“Do we have to talk about this at the dinner table?” Beatrice asked.
“Ma’s right, Cul. Mind your manners.” Nix smacked his brother on the back of the head.
“Bro, touch me again—”
“All of you cool it,” Bo said in a quiet, but mighty, tone. “Show your ma some respect.”
“Sorry, Dad,” each brother mumbled in staggered unison.
“For the life of me, I can’t understand why my sons aren’t married.” Beatrice shook her head.
Zander picked up the chicken casserole dish, scooped out some onto his plate then passed it down the line. Once the clanging of utensils against china stopped, Bo asked, “How’s the hiatus, son?”
“Hiatus? Is that what their calling a suspension from duty these days?” Kace scoffed.
“I’m not suspended,” Zander retorted. “After a disagreement with my supervisor, Johnson, over the Tattleman’s Farm case, I decided I needed to use a few weeks of my vacation time. It’s a clever strategy. He’ll appreciate me more when I come back.” He munched on a biscuit.
“Good plan, son. You deserve a break,” Beatrice added.
“I’d like to hear about those horses. How many you have over on the new property now?” Bo smothered a biscuit in butter.
“Five,” Zander said around a mouthful of food. Swallowing with a drink of lemonade, he added, “Just bought another roan.”
“Great investment to buy that property. You’ll make your money back in two years once you hire on a few ranchers and buy some livestock.” Bo proudly patted Zander on the back.
He’d bought the property last year at an auction after the owner, Agnes Makelti, passed away. The first thing he did when he had the deed in hand was build a fence and buy himself a few horses. Then he hired builders to construct a cabin. Two months ago, they finished construction. He was glad to take some time to get his place in order. “Now that I have the time, I plan to start the ball rolling on hiring some men and getting livestock. I’ve already talked to a rancher who is downsizing.”
“How are you managing living over in Crooked Creek?” Bo asked over the rim of his coffee cup.
“It’s an amazing area. It’s quiet.” Zander, Special Agent with the Wyoming Division of Criminal Investigation bought the property to have a hassle-free place where he could unwind and do some of the things he enjoyed like working with horses.
“I’d like to come out there sometime soon and check things out,” Bo said.
“Come on out, Pa.”
“Better call first.” Nixon elbowed Cullen. “Maybe he’ll find someone who can stand to look at that ugly mug and he’ll have some fun.”
“I did always think you and Zander looked the most alike,” Beatrice directed her words toward Nixon.
“Good one, Mom,” Kace chimed in.
“Has anyone heard from Phoenix? I’d like to know where my son has disappeared to.” Beatrice thrummed her fingers on the table. “You all are going to send me to an early grave.”
“Ma, you don’t have to worry about us. We’re careful. Phoenix is just working on a case,” Zander said, hoping to help ease some of her stress. His mom had been both encouraging and paranoid ever since he could remember. Sometimes she forgot how tough she and Bo raised their kids to be.
“I hear you, son. I’m talking less career here and more grandchildren. If you’d all stop living and breathing your jobs, your dad and I might have some grandchildren by now,” she gave Bo a sweet smile.
“That’s putting the cart before the horse, Ma, considering none of us are even hitched,” Nixon stuffed his mouth with casserole.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. It won’t be your gun and star that keep you warm at night,” she sighed.
All but Zander lowered their heads and inhaled their food. He laughed. “Being that I’m the youngest, I deserve some slack here.”
Beatrice pushed her plate away. “You used the excuse that the uniform kept you from settling down, but now that you’re out of the SEALs, what’s your excuse? At thirty-four, your clock is ticking.”
He swiped a hand down his whiskered jaw knowing he’d walked himself right into the “lecture” trap. “I’m still wearing a uniform. It might be a different color, but a lot of the same challenges, and risks, are there,” he muttered.
“Hogwash. You own the uniform. The uniform doesn’t own you.”
Zander looked at each of his brothers. They sunk their heads down as if they couldn’t see her then she couldn’t see them. Cowards. He knew when it was best to admit defeat and keep his mouth closed.
After dinner was over, Nixon asked Zander to join him on the porch. The sun was setting on the family ranch and his mind naturally wandered to his mother’s words about his lack of relationship. He’d heard the lecture at least a hundred times, but lately, her words were sinking in. Not exactly wanting to settle down any time soon, but he could see her point.
“You’re not letting Ma’s words get to you, are you?” Nixon asked.
Zander propped his dusty boots on the rail and relaxed into the chair that had seen better days. The rotten wood creaked under his weight. Nothing seemed to last long with six siblings, and five of those rough and tough males. “No, yeah…maybe. She has been married for forty years and they’re still as happy as ever. Gotta say, out there at my new place the silence is pretty loud.”
“I thought you wanted the peace and quiet.”
“Sure, to a certain extent.”
Nixon snorted. “Ma sees us as lonely men, but little does she know we keep busy behind closed doors.”
“Speak for yourself,” Zander grumbled and shifted his boots.
“You and Mindy aren’t hanging out still?”
“Not for six months.”
“Hell man, I had no clue.”
