his hat in his hands. “Can we talk in private?”
Jason looked around, and Wyatt shrugged. Jason followed the man out into the yard. The big lights were still on, bathing everything in a white glow. Night sounds and a soft breeze broke the prairie quiet.
“What can I help you with? John, right?” Jason knew the man was seeking help—he’d seen that desperate look in too many clients’ eyes.
“It’s not me, sir.” The man twisted his hat around again. “My boss sent me.”
“Who’s your boss?”
“Pal Haymaker.”
Jason cursed. Jason didn’t want anything to do with Haymaker, a man who’d tried to run Wyatt out of business and had nearly killed Lane and Mandy with his stupidity.
“I’m not interested in working for him.” Jason didn’t even try to keep the contempt out of his voice.
“Please, sir.” The man stepped forward. “He’s not doing so good.” The man looked up at the sky as if hoping to see an answer written in the heavens. “I know he ain’t been good to you and yours. But he asked me to tell you it’s not about your family.” The cowboy swallowed and Jason saw the man’s Adam’s apple bob. “He said he don’t trust no one but you with this.”
Jason cringed. He hated when a potential case piqued his interest this way. It made it hard to keep his distance and objectivity and turn it down.
“You have any idea what it’s about?”
The cowboy shook his head. “He asked me to have you come see him tomorrow mornin’. If you can.”
Jason sighed. What could it hurt? “I can be there around nine?”
The cowboy grinned. “Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.” Relief rolled off the man’s broad shoulders.
Jason watched the cowboy amble away and climb into a battered pickup. A cloud of smoke rose up behind the vehicle as it left the yard.
What would Haymaker have done to the guy if Jason hadn’t agreed? He didn’t want to know.
“What the hell was that about?” Wyatt spoke from the now-open screen door.
Jason slowly walked back to the house. “Apparently, Pal Haymaker has a legal matter he only trusts me to handle.”
“He’s up to something.”
“Yeah. But I’m curious enough. I think I’ll go see him.”
“You’re not going by yourself.”
“Why not? I meet with clients on my own all the time.”
“I don’t trust Pal and you know why. You might need a witness.”
Wyatt did have a point. “Well, you can’t go—he’d probably shoot you on sight. And same goes for Lane, especially since their last go-round after the fire. And DJ’s not exactly available.”
Wyatt laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah. Take Chet with you. He and Pal go way back. He’s the only one of us the old man won’t try to blast into the next county.”
Jason nodded. “I can do that.”
“John give you any idea what it’s about?”
“No.” Jason stared at the empty driveway, a frown on his brow. He was usually good at reading people, and that cowboy hadn’t just been doing his boss’s bidding. He’d been scared.
“I thought Pal was half-dead.”
“Yeah, well, until he’s actually six feet under, don’t count that bastard out. He’s still powerful around here.”
The silence settled around them, comfortably. Jason had always respected Wyatt. Only in the last few years had Jason gotten the chance to get to know his older brother better. Man to man.
Wyatt had stepped into the role of parent when their dad died. Wyatt had been fifteen, while Jason had been eleven. Those roles still permeated their relationship.
“How’re things going out there in LA?” Wyatt tried to sound casual. Jason almost laughed. Wyatt couldn’t fathom the idea of living in a city. Jason loved the pace, the pseudo privacy, the beauty of the big, active city.
“You and Emily should visit. I’ll show you around.”
“That’d be nice.” Emily’s voice came out of the darkness, as she stepped outside to lean against Wyatt. His arm went around her almost as a reflex. They were as comfortable as any long-married couple.
And then it hit him. “Wait.” Jason stared at them. “Wyatt, you rat.” Jason punched his brother in the arm, just like when they were kids. “You two aren’t going through this insanity. It’s already a done deal.”
Wyatt laughed and Emily blushed, her cheeks shadowed in the dim night light.
Jason was surprised at the hitch of some unusual emotion ripping through him as the two shared a look. “When?”
“A couple weeks ago,” Emily whispered, not taking her gaze from Wyatt’s. “My boss performed the ceremony one afternoon. Convenient working for a county judge.” She shrugged and smiled.
Jason glanced over at his brother who looked totally smitten.
“Congratulations. But, why?”
Wyatt looked down at Emily. “It seemed like the right thing to do. We didn’t want to interfere with DJ and Tammie’s day. They needed the big to-do. We just needed—” Wyatt paused and his smile softened. Jason felt himself smile, too, pleased that this woman made his brother happy.
“Each other,” Emily finished for him on a whisper, gazing up, just as besotted, at her new husband.
“I—uh—think I’ll turn in.” Jason headed into the house, fairly certain neither of them heard him leave.
Inside, Tara and Addie cleaned up the few dishes, their dresses rustling in tune as they moved, while Mandy fed the baby and Lane sat nearby. It was comfortable, safe. Home.
The day was winding down. Jason wouldn’t tell anyone that Wyatt and Emily had eloped—that was their news. Though he was tempted to tell Tara she would need to buy one fewer bridesmaid’s dress. She’d be relieved.
After saying his goodnights, he went upstairs to the guest room, his mind full of coffee and curiosity. What the hell was Pal Haymaker up to? And how would it affect the people downstairs? His family.
Jason didn’t live here in Texas. He wasn’t a provider like Wyatt, nor a soldier like DJ had been, but he had his own way of protecting the people he cared about. He’d studied the law and every one of his siblings had benefited from his advice at some point—Wyatt with the business of the ranch, Tara with her restaurant idea and Mandy with her son’s future.
Jason knew he’d do just about anything, even work for an asshole like Pal Haymaker, if it kept those people downstairs, nearly all the people he loved, happy and safe.
* * *
ACCORDING TO WYATT, Pal had been banned from the big house. Pal Jr. had paid the bail money and hired a high-profile attorney, but wasn’t speaking to his father after he’d nearly burned up the entire county. As for Trey Haymaker, Pal’s grandson and DJ’s friend, he had disappeared. If anyone knew where he was, they weren’t telling. Jason didn’t blame him.
The old man had done a number on everyone.
The original hundred-year-old ranch house was still impressive, though. It dwarfed even Wyatt’s place, and the trees had easily been around for an additional century. An older woman answered the door, nodding but not smiling as she let Jason in. He followed her as she slowly walked down the long hallway, her serviceable shoes squeaking against the polished wood floors.
She stopped at the wide entry of a room, waving