A Family In Wyoming

Wyatt swiveled his chair around to face her. “She won two games,” he said. When Susannah frowned in doubt, he held up a hand. “Fair and square. Then she wanted to use her crayons, so I gave her some paper.” He glanced down at Amber, and his usually solemn expression softened into a smile. “She’s having a good time.”

“So I see.” Flustered by his smile, Susannah hunkered down beside her daughter and gathered together the drawings. “You could put a picture on both sides, Amber. Can you do that?”

“Don’t want to.” Amber pulled open the bottom drawer of the desk and brought out more sheets. “I like it this way.”

“I don’t mind,” Wyatt said. “As long as she’s happy.”

“She’s making a mess and wasting supplies. And trees.” Aware of how bitchy that sounded, Susannah stacked the pages and flipped them over, blank side up. “Draw on these, Amber. You don’t want to use up all of Mr. Wyatt’s paper.”

Lower lip stuck out and eyes wide, Amber clutched the blank pages to her chest. “No.”

Great. An argument, in front of Wyatt. Susannah kept her voice gentle. “You have plenty, sweetie. Leave the rest alone.”

“I want more.” In a quick move, she scattered the pages she was holding, turned to the open drawer and reached inside. “More!”

Face flaming, Susannah straightened up. “I’m sorry,” she said, not meeting Wyatt’s eyes. “You’ve been very good to play with her, but I think a break is in order.” She picked up her wailing-and-kicking daughter by the waist. “I’ll deal with this chaos in a few minutes.”

“I can get—” he started, but stopped. “No, I can’t,” he said gruffly. “Damn this brace, anyway.”

Having ruined a perfectly peaceful scene for her daughter and for him, Susannah took Amber to the room they shared and shut the door. A few minutes of sobs and sniffles followed, during a heart-to-heart talk about listening to Mommy, before her little girl fell asleep with the tears still drying on her face. Some days, a grown-up five-year-old still needed a nap.

Now she had to go back and face Wyatt while she restored order to his office. He kept his life organized, she’d discovered since she’d been here. Much of her cleaning had been out of a sense of duty more than actual necessity because the house was amazingly tidy, especially considering bachelors lived there. Despite what he’d said, having the floor carpeted with childish scribblings had probably driven him crazy. Susannah knew she shouldn’t have allowed her daughter to demand so much of his time. She’d make sure she kept closer tabs on Amber in the future.

In the next few days, that resolution proved much easier to make than to keep. Whenever Amber’s bright voice had gone quiet, Susannah would discover her playing with Wyatt. She found them in the living room one afternoon, where Wyatt sat in the rocking chair with the baby doll, wrapped in a bath towel, resting on his shoulder. Amber stood beside him, patting the baby’s shoulder as he moved back and forth.

“What are you doing?” had become her standard question.

“Shh!” Amber put a finger to her lips. “Baby is sick. Her daddy is rocking her to make her feel better.”

“Ah.” She kept her voice down. “And who are you?”

“I’m the sister. He’s my daddy, too.”

Struck to the heart, Susannah found her gaze locked with Wyatt’s, but she couldn’t read his expression. In desperation, she put a hand on Amber’s shoulder.

“Sweetie, maybe the baby wants a drink of water. Why don’t you go get her bottle from the bedroom?”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” Susannah said as soon as Amber was gone. “I can’t imagine where she comes up with these ideas.”

“I expect you hold her when she’s sick and that comforts her.” The doll still rested on his shoulder. “Good parents do those things for their kids. And you’re a very good parent.”

“But I’m sorry you’re getting caught up in her silly games. Really, you don’t have to—”

“Susannah.” His firm tone halted the frenzy of her speech. “You’ve said ‘I’m sorry’ twice in the last two minutes. Seems we never have a conversation lately without you saying ‘I’m sorry.’”

She opened her mouth but couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t an apology, so she closed it again.

“Don’t worry so much. Not about me.” He glanced down at the doll and smiled. “I enjoy playing with Amber, seeing how a little girl’s mind works. I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do.”

“If you’re sure...”

“I’m sure you can stop apologizing. You and your kids are not a burden and you’re not intruding. Just make yourself at home. Settle in. Or else I’m going to get mad.” He sent her a wink. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m mad.”

* * *

EVEN AS THE words left his mouth, Wyatt realized his mistake.

“I’m so sorry.” His turn to apologize. “That was a stupid thing to say. It’s a joke between my brothers and me—from an old TV show.”

To his great surprise, she laughed. “I know. I watched The Incredible Hulk reruns when I was a kid. I loved how he grew all big and green and furious.”

Despite her good humor, his guilt persisted. “I didn’t intend to threaten you.” He considered the phrase again. “Although that’s exactly the way it sounded.”

“You were teasing, Wyatt. I got that.” Her smile faded. “Travis doesn’t threaten. He just...explodes.”

“I hate reminding you of him.” And hated remembering his own dad’s hair-trigger temper.

“It’s not as if I ever really forget.” She drew a deep breath and then made an obvious effort to improve the mood. “You seem pretty experienced at holding babies. Did you spend a lot of time taking care of your younger brothers?”

“My mom was sick for a while before she passed away, so I did a fair amount of babysitting. Especially with Dylan.”

“No wonder you’re so good with Amber! Though after taking care of three younger brothers, I would expect you’d had enough of dealing with children. Yet here you are sponsoring a summer camp.”

“Kids are important.” He’d planned on having a full house, back in his twenties when he’d believed getting married was part of his future. Too bad for him, the girl he’d loved wanted a different kind of life. Now everything he did was for the ranch and his brothers. “Caroline and Garrett proposed having the Circle M host the teenagers, and I decided we owed it to Henry to help the kids the way he helped us.” And that was as close as he’d ever come to that long-ago dream.

Susannah gave him a puzzled frown. “Henry?”

“While I was growing up, we lived in town, where my dad repaired cars at the service station. After he died, I went to work out here for Henry MacPherson. Eventually he had all of us move in with him. And he left the four of us the ranch in his will.”

“You lost both parents?” Her blue eyes widened. “That’s so sad. How old—” She broke off the question as Amber returned to the living room. “Did you find the bottle, sweetie? That’s good. Sick babies need to drink.”

Now feeling a little foolish, Wyatt shifted the doll to the crook of his arm. “Maybe you should rock the baby for a while, Amber. I think that might help her get well.” With a push on the chair arm, he got awkwardly to his feet.

“It’s a him,” Amber said, clambering into the rocker. “Russell.” With a serious, concerned expression, she cradled the doll against her body and offered him the bottle.

“I could use something to drink, myself,” Wyatt said, keeping his voice low. “Coffee, maybe?”

“I’ve just made a fresh pot.” Susannah led the way through the dining room. “Russell was her friend when we lived in Gillette,” she said. “His family had the house next door and the two of them would play together most of the day. That was two years ago, but she still asks about him sometimes.”

“Changes are hard on kids.” Wyatt reached above her head to push open the kitchen door.

“You would know. And I’m afraid, since we’ve moved so often...” she said, walking past him. “But now—” She stopped short, just inside the doorway. “Well, hello, Dylan!”

His brother’s voice came from the kitchen. “Afternoon, Ms. Susannah. How’s your day going?”

Following, Wyatt didn’t stop as quickly, so he bumped into her, knocking her off balance. He put his hands on her narrow waist to steady her. “Sorry about that. You okay?” The world seemed to halt for a moment as he held her. Under his palms, she drew a deep breath and blew it out again.

“Of course. I’m fine.” She stepped out of his hold. “Dylan, what are you doing hanging around the kitchen in the middle of the afternoon?”

Dylan saluted Wyatt with a lift of his coffee cup. Then he refocused his attention on Susannah. “Actually, I’m on a mission—I was sent to find cookies. Garrett said you were baking this morning and the kids were hoping...”

Arms crossed, she eyed him skeptically. “The kids?”

He winked at her. “Of course. Pure altruism on my part.”

“I’m sure.” She nodded toward a plastic container on the counter. “Those are the cookies. All ready for the kids.” Her emphasis on the last two words drew Dylan’s grin.

“I’m sure they will appreciate the effort, and I’ll say thanks in their place.”

Susannah smiled at him. “They’re welcome.”

Still standing by the kitchen door, Wyatt felt very much outside the conversation, as if he wasn’t in the room at all. Dylan had always been a ladies’ man, able to win a smile from females nine years old to ninety. That had never bothered him before. Wyatt wasn’t sure why he resented his brother’s easy charm this afternoon.

“I had a couple of other things to talk over with you, if you’ve got a minute,” Dylan was saying.

“Sure.” Susannah leaned a hip against the counter. “What’s going on?”

Wyatt remembered he’d come in for coffee. Jaw set, he stalked across the kitchen and elbowed his brother away from the machine so he could pour a cup.

Prodded into motion, Dylan joined Susannah by the breakfast bar. “First off, that reporter is gonna show up here tomorrow to interview me. So if you could freshen up the other guest room, that would be great.”

“No problem,” she told him. “But I’ve been wondering, how did this house end up with two guest rooms?”

Wyatt started to answer, but Dylan spoke first. “You and Amber are staying in what used to be my room before I moved into the loft in my studio. Comfortable, isn’t it?”

“Incredibly comfortable. We appreciate you sharing with us.”

“Anytime.” His grin could only be called flirtatious. “Meanwhile, we grown-up types were talking about giving the kids a picnic on Thursday, down at the creek, on the other side of the barn.”

“Where the picnic tables are? That sounds like fun. I’ve walked there with Amber. She wants to play in the water.”

“I imagine they all will. We also thought we’d give them a day off from making their own meals and put you in charge of the food, if you don’t mind. Sandwiches, fruit, that kind of thing. More cookies would be good.” Another of those grins.

And Susannah smiled in response. “I don’t mind at all. I’m glad to help with the camp in any way I can. You’ll want everything ready by noon?”

“Sounds about right. We’ll show up and let the kids carry everything down to the creek. There are a couple of picnic baskets around here somewhere, I believe. And I’m sure we’ve got at least one big water cooler, plus an ice chest or two. Wyatt probably knows where they are. Right, Boss?”

Wyatt cleared his throat. “I do, yes.” He couldn’t believe he sounded so pitiful. “That kind of stuff is stored in the attic. I can bring it all down.”

Dylan frowned at him. “I’m pretty sure climbing ladders is on the list of things you’re not supposed to do for the next few months, along with riding horses. I’ll fetch what we need. In fact, I’ll do that right now.” He set down his mug. “Come on, Susannah. Let’s get this project underway.”

Wyatt stayed where he was, fuming at...well, at the situation, more than anything else. At himself, for getting hurt. At being stuck in the house like an old man. Maybe he wasn’t a kid anymore, but he could hold his own against any of his brothers when it came to ranch chores.

And, yeah, he was ticked off at his youngest brother, though he wasn’t sure why. Dylan was just being himself—easygoing and sociable. His beguiling approach with women had never bothered Wyatt in the past.

Susannah, though... Susannah deserved to be treated with respect and deference. Not that Dylan had been disrespectful, exactly, but sometimes women took his flirting more seriously than he intended. As she recovered from a miserable marriage, she didn’t have to be confused by casual gallantry. Should he say something to Dylan?

Should he warn Susannah?

He couldn’t bring himself to speak to either of them, but in the days following he kept an eye on them when they were together, trying to judge how things were going.

But then the reporter from New York arrived, and Dylan immediately fell head over heels in love with her. Susannah didn’t seem bothered by that obvious fact. When everyone sat on the front porch in the evening to enjoy hand-cranked ice cream, or when they gathered in the living room for a sing-along by the fireplace, Wyatt couldn’t detect any difference between the way she behaved with Dylan and with Garrett or Ford. Or himself.

Which was as it should be. The only way it could be, for Susannah’s sake.

* * *

ONCE SHE’D CLEANED every other space in the house, Susannah had no choice but to tackle Wyatt’s bedroom. Just proposing the idea to him made her palms damp and her throat tight.

“I wondered—” she started one night during supper, while Amber was busy with her favorite meal of noodles topped by marinara sauce. “I wondered if I could spend some time in your room tomorrow.”

Wyatt looked up from his lasagna, a startled expression on his face.

“Cleaning, I mean. I’ve done Ford’s room and Garrett’s. It’s...um...your turn.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Well, sure. That’ll be great. I can work somewhere else while you’re in there.”

“I’ll start with your desk area and try to finish as fast as I can. I don’t want to interrupt you.”

“These days, with the bad news I’m getting over the internet, being interrupted isn’t such a problem.” He was toying with his food, forking through it but not eating much.

Susannah rested her folded arms on the table. “What kind of bad news?”

“Prices, for one thing. Grass-fed beef, the kind we raise, is more expensive than conventional feedlot meat. A good portion of our market is the restaurant industry, but they’re rejecting the higher prices and serving other proteins, like pork and chicken. So demand for the product is down, meaning lower prices. But the cost of living—not to mention the cost of producing these cattle—doesn’t go down.”

“I’m not much help with economics,” she said. “But for what it’s worth, yours is the tenderest, most flavorful meat I’ve ever cooked with.”

Wyatt let out a big laugh. “That’s the best thing you could have said. Maybe what we need is an advertising program to appeal to the public. You can star in the TV commercials.”

Susannah felt herself blushing. “Not very likely.”

“Why not? You’re certainly pretty enough.”

She stared at him, her breath caught in her chest. Wyatt’s expression said he’d surprised himself.

“You are pretty, Mommy.” Amber chose that moment to join the conversation. “I want to watch you on TV.”

Thankful for the intrusion, Susannah turned to her daughter. “And I want to watch you finish up your green beans. Can you do that?”

Amber heaved a put-upon sigh. “Okay.”

Wyatt didn’t so much as glance up from his plate for the rest of the meal.

He was still avoiding her gaze when she saw him at breakfast the next morning. “I’ll get started on your room right away,” she said, hoping for interaction of some kind. “And work as fast as I can.”

“Dylan plugged in my laptop in the dining room.” Buttering his biscuit seemed to require all his attention. “And Amber is going to bring her coloring in to keep me company.” Despite himself, he flashed a quick smile in her direction. “We’ll be fine.”

As soon as the kitchen was set to rights, she started in Wyatt’s room. With some hesitation, she approached the big desk, where a computer screen and keyboard, along with multiple stacks of papers, books and magazines, obscured most of the space. In order to thoroughly dust the top, she would have to move them all. Did they have to be returned to exactly the same spots? How would she remember what went where?

She’d just moved the first pile to its corresponding position on the bed when Wyatt’s footsteps sounded in the hall. “I need a couple of reports,” he said as he entered the room. Then he stopped, hands on his narrow hips, surveying her and the desk. “You have to move all my stuff?”

Susannah decided to take the firm approach. “Yes,” she said simply and then relented at his worried frown. “I’ll replace them exactly the same way. I promise.”

He blew out a short breath. “I’ll do it.” Stepping to the desk, he reached for a stack of magazines about a foot high.

Having him in the room while she worked would be...distracting. But she couldn’t just shoo him away. “Those will be heavy. You shouldn’t—”

Without a word, he lifted the pile and, following her lead, set it down on the mattress. They worked together in silence for a few minutes, moving back and forth past each other, sometimes brushing shoulders, until Susannah’s nerves got the better of her.

“I didn’t realize ranching involved so much paperwork,” she volunteered in desperation.

“Most of it is done on the computer now. But I often refer to Henry MacPherson’s record books. They cover more than four decades.” Wyatt moved another set of papers. “I started out on paper, because he was teaching me. About five years ago I switched to the computer.” He surveyed the contents of the bed. “Doesn’t look like it, I guess. I’m still transferring relevant information from paper to digital.”

“What kind of information?” Conversation made him seem less overwhelming. “What do ranchers keep track of?”

“Everything to do with the cattle—breeding, birthing, weaning, vaccinations, weigh-ins, culling, castrating, branding, health records, sales and purchases. Files on the machinery and vehicles we use, plus purchase forms and maintenance. Tax documents and all the receipts to go with them.” He slid the keyboard and screen for the computer on the desk out of her way, so she could dust underneath. “And then there are deeds and notices for the grazing land we lease from the government. A couple of those piles of paper are from the Bureau of Land Management—and that’s from just this year.”

“Amazing.” Moving between the desk and the wall, she cleaned the window frame and sill, and then she started on the panes. “You said Mr. MacPherson taught you, but you must have the education to manage such a complicated business. Not to mention knowing how to use the computer software. Did you get a business degree?”

Behind her, Wyatt chuckled. “Not hardly.”

Susannah looked at him over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

“I quit school when I was sixteen to go to work. I’ve been a cowboy ever since.”

She pivoted to face him. “I didn’t realize. You were that young when your dad died?”

He nodded. “Dylan was eight.”

“The four of you grew up without your parents. And you’ve learned to manage all this—” she said with a gesture at the view of the rolling pastures framed by the window “—on your own.”

“Henry taught me pretty much everything I know.”

“Is this what you always wanted to do? Did you dream of being a cowboy as a little boy?”

His gaze seemed to turn inward. “Not that I remember. We played soldiers, or ball games, I think.” He shrugged. “But ranch work was available when I needed a job, so that’s what I did.”

“Still...” The scope of his responsibilities amazed her. “You raised your brothers by yourself. From such a young age.”

“We raised each other. That’s why we stick together.”

Some men were just born to be responsible. And some men weren’t—like her husband.

Coming out from behind the desk, she didn’t realize she’d revealed her state of mind until Wyatt said, “What’s brought that frown to your face?”

“Oh.” Her turn to confess. “Thinking about Travis, of course. His parenting skills—or lack of them.”

“A good reason to keep him out of your life as much as possible.”

“That’s not—”

A sudden clatter sounded in the front of the house, followed by Amber’s voice. “Uh oh.”

Susannah rushed down the hallway and into the dining room. “What happened?”

Amber stood by the wall, a coloring book dangling from her hand. At her feet lay a laptop computer.

Wyatt’s laptop computer.

“I tried to go over it,” she said, pointing to the cord, which was plugged into the wall. “But my foot catched it.” Judging from her big eyes and frightened expression, she understood the seriousness of the problem.

Wyatt joined them. “I can’t get down there with this stupid brace on,” he said in a quiet voice. “Could you set it on the table?”

Susannah bent to pick up the computer. As she straightened, she glanced at the machine and gasped. The screen was cracked and crazed, the image totally destroyed.

A long, low whistle escaped Wyatt’s lips. “That doesn’t look good.” She put it on the table and he pressed some keys, typed a string of letters. The screen went dead. “Not good at all.”

Chapter Three

Wyatt looked up from the busted computer to find Susannah and Amber staring at him with nearly identical expressions on their faces. There was dread, even fear in their eyes.

They expected him to explode, like Travis Bradley would. Like his father had, that last night, before stomping out of the house in a drunken rage.

Their reaction cut him to the bone. For a few seconds, he couldn’t find the words to respond. He was not his father.

“I sorry,” Amber said in a tiny voice, her tone a plea. “Can you fix it?”

He pulled in a deep breath. “Maybe. I’ll take it to the computer shop in Casper, see what they can do.” Then he met the little girl’s gaze. “It was an accident,” he said as gently as he could. “They happen. It’s okay.”

“Use my wages to buy a new one.” Susannah put a hand on Amber’s shoulder. “I insist.”

“That won’t happen. Really. It’s okay.”

“You’re kind to say so.” Her frown eased slightly. “But it’s not, really.”

“We’re not going to argue over this.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “I think I’ll spend some time in the barn, watch the kids ride. And I’ll eat lunch with them in the bunkhouse.”

“Wyatt—”

“If you’ll unplug the cord—” He hated having to ask. “Thanks.” With the cover closed and the cord coiled on top, he pushed the laptop to the center of the table. “You two have a good afternoon.”

Walking up the hill to the barn, he acknowledged the anger simmering in his chest. Anger at Travis Bradley, for conditioning his family to expect violence when they made a mistake. How could such a man live with himself?

He also had to admit to being angry that Susannah would put him in the same category as Bradley, if only by reflex. Wyatt had done his best, since she’d been here, to be reassuring, to appear totally safe. He was safe, dammit. Why would she think otherwise?

A single step into the shadows of the barn brought the sweet aroma of hay to his nose. Almost immediately, his temper started to cool. Walking along the side aisle, breathing deeply, he let the peace of the place soothe him. He’d spent too much time in the house this last month. Of course he was irritable.

At the back of the barn, he wanted to prop his arms on the half door leading out to the corral, but the brace restrained him from bowing his shoulders. So he stood stiff as a stick, instead, watching the teenagers ride their horses. With Dylan leading the line on his Appaloosa, Leo, the kids rode patterns around the ring—circles, diagonals, even serpentines. And they were jogging, which constituted great progress since Wyatt had last observed them.