their ancestry. Even so, Bram couldn’t make heads or tails of the whole thing, for why would any outsider give a whit about any of the Coltons, none of whom had anything to hide? It was a damn weird mess, Bram decided again, having reached that conclusion quite a few times in the past few weeks.
Then, even through that maze of thoughts, Jenna’s image threatened again, and Bram groaned and sought another subject to dwell on until he fell asleep. Fishing was a good nerve-settling topic, and Bram grasped at it, pondered it for a while and then decided to ask Will if he could go fishing this coming weekend. They had a couple of favorite fishing spots, and Bram never cared if Will took one or more of his sons with them. Maybe they could leave on Saturday and camp out that night. He would check his work schedule at the sheriff’s station in the morning, and if he was free this weekend, he’d give Will a call or stop by his place.
The next day Bram checked the duty roster and saw that he had the weekend off. Feeling good about it, he drove by Will’s house on his way home from work that afternoon. Will’s three boys, nine-year-old Billy, eight-year-old Stevie and six-year-old Hank came running from the backyard yelling, “Bram! Bram! Daddy, Bram’s here!”
Bram grinned. Dressed in cutoff jeans and T-shirts, the trio were barefoot and dirty. Before bed Bram knew that their mother, Ellie, would see to baths and fresh pajamas, but during the day there was no keeping her wildcats clean.
“Didja shoot your gun today, Bram?” Hank asked.
“Not today, Hank.”
“Aw, heck,” the youngster said.
Will had come out of the house and approached the group. “Hi, Bram. How’re tricks?”
Will Mitchell was as fair as Bram was dark. Will had straw-colored hair, pale hazel eyes and skin that never tanned. The two had been friends since high school.
“My tricks are nonexistent,” Bram said dryly. “You’re the man with the tricks…three of them, to be specific.”
Will grinned. “Boys, your mother asked me to tell you to go in and wash up for supper.”
“Aw, heck,” Hank said again. But he raced to the house only a step behind his older brothers, shouting, “Bye, Bram. See ya later.”
“Want to come in and eat with us?” Will asked.
“Thanks, not tonight. I’ve got this weekend off and I was thinking about a fishing trip. With two days, we could go to Ridge Reservoir and camp out overnight. The boys would like that.”
“Hey, they sure would. So would I. Let me talk to Ellie and see if she’s got anything planned for the weekend. I’ll give you a call. Two days at the reservoir would be great, wouldn’t they?”
“Yeah, they would.”
“I wish Ellie liked camping and fishing.” Will paused, then grinned again. “She said to not say a word to anyone until she’s certain, but I don’t think she meant you. Bram, she’s pretty sure she’s pregnant. She says this time it has to be a girl. You know how she longs for a daughter.”
Bram looked at his friend’s excited face and felt the strangest ache in his gut. He covered it with a teasing wisecrack. “You’re just full of tricks, Mitchell.”
“You could be, too. There isn’t a gal in the county who wouldn’t jump at the chance to marry you and you know it.”
“Bull,” Bram exclaimed. “No one’s pining to marry me. Hell, I can’t even get dates for the Saturday night dances at the Grange Hall.”
“You’re so full of it, it’s coming out of your ears, Colton. You don’t have a girlfriend only because you don’t want a girlfriend. You’re afraid she’ll rope and hog-tie you, and you’re scared spitless of commitment and a wedding ring.”
“Will, blow it out your ear.” This was a common conversation for them. Will thought Bram—at thirty-seven years of age—should be married, and when Bram got tired of the subject he ended it with that one directive—“Blow it out your ear.” Will always laughed and that was the end of it…until the next time.
Ellie called from the front door of the house. “Supper’s on the table, hon. Hi, Bram, come on in and eat with us.”
“Thanks, Ellie, but can’t do it tonight. Some other time, okay?”
“Anytime, Bram.”
Will said, “I’ll call as soon as I know about the fishing trip.”
Bram nodded and climbed into his car. “Great. Talk to you then.”
As he drove away he thought about Will and Ellie having another child and Will being so thrilled about it. Bram wanted kids, too, but not with just any woman. And since he couldn’t have the one woman he wanted, he’d probably never have kids.
He muttered a curse, then told himself to cool down. What made him think he needed kids of his own? When his parents were killed in that plane crash in 1987 he’d been twenty-two and had taken over as head of the household. He’d seen to it that his four siblings—Ashe, Jared, Logan and Willow—finished their education and continued to live as good, decent citizens, just as their mother and dad had taught them.
No, he didn’t need kids, and he sure as hell didn’t need a wife he didn’t love. He would take bachelorhood for the rest of his days over that sort of mess.
He ate dinner with his grandmother, and it was only after he left and was driving out to the ranch that he realized she had looked a little peaked. Or maybe it was just his imagination; Gloria had bustled around her kitchen as always, hadn’t she?
Will phoned the following evening, which was Friday. “Ellie’s got a quilting thing—some kind of craft show at the fairgrounds—tomorrow. She said to take the boys and go fishing, with her blessing.” Will chuckled. “Sounds like she’s looking forward to a quiet weekend.”
After they hung up Bram began gathering his camping and fishing gear. He grinned when he realized that he was probably as excited about the coming weekend as Will’s boys undoubtedly were. Nellie was in the house, sniffing the sleeping bags and fishing poles Bram piled on the floor in the middle of the living room, and it was apparent to Bram from the collie’s happy gyrations that she knew a fishing trip was in the making. Bram always took her along, and she wore herself out trying to herd chipmunks, squirrels and gophers. The boys would wear her out, too, but that was a two-way street, for Nellie wore them out, as well. Truth was, they would all have a great time.
Bram finally had everything in a pile, except for the food he would take with him. He’d get up early, pack the three ice chests with ice and food, and load his SUV. Then he’d drive over to Will’s house and pick up him, the boys and all their gear. Eyeing the mound of items, Bram was about to go for a down-filled jacket—just in case the weather changed over the weekend and it got cold—when the telephone rang.
He picked it up. “Hello?”
“Bram…oh my Lord…Bram, Gran’s on her way to the hospital. I found her—”
“Willow, slow down!” Bram’s heart leaped into his throat. “What happened?”
“She went upstairs early, and I figured something was wrong then. But I was busy with customers, and when I finally had a moment to check on her I found her on the floor. The ambulance driver said something about a stroke. I’m hoping he was only guessing, but oh, Bram…” Willow began weeping.
“Okay, take it easy. Have you called the rest of the family?”
“I called you first.”
“Good. I’ll leave for the hospital as soon as we hang up. You stay there and call everyone. They all should be told.”
“What about Great-grandfather? Should I try to reach him?”
George WhiteBear wouldn’t permit electronic gadgets in his small, simply furnished house on a hundred sixty acres of