the envelope further, his cell phone rang.
“Hold your horses, Porter. I’ll be there in a minute.” Wednesday night was poker night and his brothers and brother-in-law were waiting for him in the bunkhouse. If not for the weekly card game, they’d hardly see each other.
His sister, Dixie, and her husband, Gavin, lived in Yuma—forty-five minutes away. Will’s eldest brother, Johnny, had married his boss’s daughter, and he and Shannon lived in the foreman’s cabin at the Triple D Ranch. And Mack spent most of the week and every other weekend as a trail hand at the Black Jack Mountain Dude Ranch. That left Will, Buck and Porter living in the bunkhouse on the farm.
He tossed the mail aside and drove on—slowly. The days of racing along the dirt road had ended when Conway married Isi and they moved into the farmhouse with the twins and a black Lab named Bandit. He parked in the yard and as soon as he got out of the pickup, his nephews ambushed him.
“Uncle Will, guess what we made?”
Will walked up to the porch where the boys sat on the steps with the dog wedged between them. The twins wore blue jeans and identical Western shirts in different colors—Javier liked red and Miguel preferred blue. “What are you guys up to?”
Miguel held out a piece of paper. “It’s Bandit’s new doghouse.”
Will examined the crude drawing. “Who’s gonna build it?”
“Our dad said you could build Bandit a house.”
Of course he did. Will worked in construction, so naturally he was the go-to guy in the family for projects involving a hammer and nails.
“We can help.” Javier’s big brown eyes pleaded with Will.
“Okay, I’ll build Bandit a house, but you’ll have to wait awhile.” Will worked for a family-owned construction company run by Ben Wallace—a guy he’d gone to high school with. Ben had landed a new job to construct a classroom wing on the Mission Community Church. The work would keep them busy for weeks.
“I’ll give your dad a list of supplies to buy at the lumberyard,” Will said.
The boys raced down the porch steps and threw their arms around his legs. “Thanks, Uncle Will,” Miguel said.
“You’re welcome. Now go inside.”
Javier shook his head. “We have to stay out here ’cause baby Nate’s sleeping.”
While the men played cards the women sat in the house and did whatever it was that married women did—probably talk about their husbands. “Don’t get into trouble.” Will walked over to the bunkhouse, opening the letter addressed to him. When he removed the note inside, a photo fell out and landed on his steel-toed boot. He snatched it off the ground and stared at the teenage boy.
What the heck?
Dear Will... He read a few more lines but the words blurred and a loud buzzing filled his ears. The kid in the picture was named Ryan and he was fourteen years old.
Slowly Will’s eyes focused and he studied the photo. The young man had the same brownish-blond hair as Will’s but his eyes weren’t brown—they were blue like his mother’s.
“Buck!” he shouted. “Get your ass out here right now!”
The farmhouse door opened and his sister stepped outside. “Willie Nelson Cash, don’t you dare swear in front of the boys.”
“Take the twins inside, Dixie.” She must have sensed his dark mood, because she did as he asked without mouthing off. Will stared at the bunkhouse, afraid if he went inside he’d tear the place apart. When Buck came out, the rest of the Cash brothers and their brother-in-law, Gavin, followed.
“What’s wrong?” Johnny’s blue eyes darkened with concern.
Will ignored his eldest brother—if Johnny had his way he’d take control of the situation like he’d done all through their childhood. This was Will’s fight with Buck and no one else’s.
“What’s got you fired up?” Porter ran a hand through his shaggy hair and flashed his boyish grin—the one that stopped women from one to ninety-nine in their tracks. “Steam’s spewing from your ears.”
“Shut up, Porter.” Will glared at his younger brother. “This is between me and Buck.”
“I’ve never seen you this pissed.” Conway glanced at his brothers. “Maybe you ought to take a couple of deep breaths before you go off half-cocked.”
“Is that what you tell the twins when they’re itching for a fight?” Now that the handsomest Cash brother had settled down and become a father, he liked to believe he was the mature one.
“Conway’s right.” Mack’s deep baritone voice carried over the heads of his brothers. “Whatever’s got you riled, Will, it’s not like you to attack one of us.”
What Mack said was true, but Will had never been in a pickle like this before. His musician brother could write a song about the news he’d just received and make a fortune off Will’s misery.
“This concerns Buck and me.” Will shook the letter. “You knew all along.”
Buck stepped forward, using his broad shoulders to push his brothers out of the way. “Knew what?” Of all his siblings, Buck was the quietest and through the years he’d assumed the role of family peacemaker. Too bad this was one dispute he wouldn’t be able to settle to Will’s satisfaction.
“Remember Marsha Bugler?”
“Of course. Why?”
“She said you’d vouch for her that she’s telling the truth.”
His brother’s eye twitched—a sure sign of guilt. “The truth about what?”
“That after I got her pregnant, she kept the baby.”
The color drained from Buck’s face.
The tenuous hold Will had on his temper broke, and he let Buck have it. “You’ve kept in touch with Marsha since high school. How the hell could you not tell me that I had a son!”
Buck’s pleading gaze swung to Johnny. “Honest to God, I didn’t know Ryan was Will’s son until a short while ago.”
“What do you mean by that?” Will’s intestines twisted into a giant knot.
“Marsha didn’t tell me you were Ryan’s father until I saw her in March.”
“This past March?”
“A year ago March,” Buck muttered.
Will lunged for Buck, but Johnny held him tight. “You knew I had a son for over a year!”
“She made me promise not to spill the beans until she had a chance to tell you,” Buck said.
“To heck with promising Marsha, I’m your brother.” Will’s chest physically ached at the thought of his own flesh and blood keeping the truth from him.
“Marsha never planned to tell me at first, but I confronted her when I noticed Ryan looked like you.”
Will wasn’t buying his brother’s story. “It took you thirteen years to make the connection between me and Ryan?”
“I only looked up Marsha a few times since she’d moved to Los Angeles and Ryan was never there when I stopped by until...March.”
“How good of friends are you with Marsha? Have you slept with her?”
“It’s not like that between us, Will.”
Will had known the answer before he’d asked the question, but he was desperate to find a way out of this mess. “Is there a chance Ryan isn’t my kid?”
“Marsha’s not a slut.” Buck jabbed his finger in the air.
“If