“He hasn’t eaten in two days,” she said, explaining the frenzy of cooking that had taken place that afternoon. “I baked his favorites just the way Mom would have.”

“How’s Grady dealing with this?”

A sadness came over her and some of the excitement drained from her voice. “Not very well, unfortunately. He won’t let Richard stay more than the night. He’s forcing him to sleep in the bunkhouse. Richard said he was willing to work for his keep, and I think if I reason with him, Grady might let him stay on until his severance check arrives. I’m hoping he will, but it’s hard to tell with Grady.”

“Savannah!” Footsteps echoed as Richard Weston bounded down the stairs from the upstairs bedroom and burst into the kitchen. “I found my old guitar.” He slid the strap over his shoulder and ran the pick over the tight strings, laughing with childish delight.

“I couldn’t make myself throw away your things,” Savannah admitted.

Walking about in his stocking feet, Richard circled the kitchen playing a mellow country hit Laredo recognized from the early nineties. A song of Reba’s, if memory served him.

The family resemblance was strong, Laredo noticed. Richard was a younger, slimmer, blonder version of Grady, good-looking and suave. Apparently he’d inherited a double portion of charm, as well. He serenaded his sister, causing Savannah to blush unmercifully. Laredo knew he should leave, but he found himself enjoying the scene.

When Richard finished the song, he set the guitar aside and glanced in Laredo’s direction, his eyes questioning.

Savannah’s gaze followed her brother’s. “This is Laredo Smith,” she said. She reached for Laredo’s hand, tucking it in both of hers. “He works for me.”

“Really, Savannah,” Richard joked. “I never suspected my older sister would have her own boy-toy.” He laughed then, as if he found the comment hilarious.

Any goodwill Laredo had felt toward the other man vanished with the ugly suggestiveness of his remark. Savannah’s face turned a deep shade of scarlet, and it was all Laredo could do to keep his mouth shut.

“It’s n-not that way with us,” she stammered.

“Whatever you say, big sister,” Richard responded. “Hey, when’s dinner? I could eat the entire roast myself.” He gripped Savannah by the shoulder and noisily kissed her cheek. “I can’t tell you how good it is to be home. I’ve missed you, Savannah, almost as much as I’ve missed your melt-in-the-mouth buttermilk biscuits.”

“I need to be getting back,” Laredo said, eager to check on Roanie. “I just stopped by to tell you I won’t be here for dinner.”

“You won’t?” Savannah’s eyes pleaded with him, and he realized she’d been counting on his support at the dinner table. She appeared to have forgotten that Grady had no particular fondness for him, either. He wished he could help her, but feared he’d do her cause more harm than good.

“Wiley invited me to play poker with him and his friends tonight,” he explained to justify his absence. “The game’s over at the Double Z bunkhouse.”

She forgave him with a brave smile. “Have fun.”

“Will everything be all right here?” He watched Richard walk past Rocket and give the old dog a vicious shove with his foot. His anger flared again, but he said nothing.

“Everything’s going to be just fine,” Richard answered on her behalf. “Grady can be downright stubborn at times, but he’ll come around. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure big brother doesn’t hassle her.” He placed his arm around his sister’s shoulders and squeezed hard. Savannah winced and Laredo battled the urge to grab the man by the shirtfront and jerk him away.

***

Although Laredo didn’t see Savannah again that evening, it didn’t mean she wasn’t on his mind. He worried about her dinner with her brothers, which burdened his concentration to the point that he lost at poker. Twenty bucks was more than he could afford to throw away in a poker game. By the end of the evening he regretted accepting Wiley’s invitation.

He and Wiley returned to find Richard in the bunkhouse, sitting on the edge of his bed, strumming his guitar and singing drunkenly at the top of his lungs. Wiley snorted in contempt and headed immediately for his small room. Richard didn’t seem to notice. He interrupted his song every so often to reach for a whiskey bottle and gulp down a swig. He held it up in silent invitation when he saw Laredo.

“Care to join me?” he asked. “I broke into Grady’s private stock. By the time he misses it, we’ll both be long gone.” He laughed as if stealing liquor from his brother was some kind of triumph.

“No, thanks,” Laredo muttered in disgust.

“I should’ve been a country singer,” Richard announced at the end of a barely recognizable Garth Brooks tune. Not that his singing voice was all that unpleasant, but the words were badly slurred.

“I’ve got talent, you know?” He lifted the bottle to his mouth, gulped down another swallow and threw back his head. “Ahh.” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Powerful stuff. My big brother only buys the best.” He set the guitar down on the floor, holding it carelessly by the neck.

Laredo was tired; he’d put in a full day and his thoughts were heavy. In addition, he was worried about Savannah and how the animosity between the two brothers would affect her. She was the one stuck in the middle between two angry men, struggling to maintain the peace. One brother was stubborn and unyielding, the other manipulative and demanding.

He wished there was some way he could protect her.

Twice Laredo had to ask Richard to turn out the light. “Give me five minutes,” was the response both times. The light Laredo could handle; it was a small matter to turn on his side and put his back to the harsh glare. But the drunken singing and guitar strumming weren’t as easily ignored.

By midnight he’d had enough. He threw back the covers, walked over to the wall and flicked off the switch himself. “You got a problem with that?” he challenged. His day had started at five that morning and he desperately needed to sleep.

A tense silence followed. “Whatever,” Richard muttered. He dropped or shoved something onto the floor, and the crash echoed through the room. Frankly, Laredo didn’t care. He was through with the niceties as far as Richard Weston was concerned.

Laredo awoke at dawn, showered, shaved and was preparing for his day when he happened to notice Richard. He stopped, squinting as he took a closer look. He’d heard movie stars and the like used such devices, but he’d never personally seen one.

Richard Weston lay sprawled across the bed, his arms and legs dangling over the edge of the small mattress. He wore silk pajamas and, of all things, a black satin sleep mask to protect his eyes against the sunlight. Never in all his life had Laredo seen a more incongruous sight in a bunkhouse.

Shaking his head, he stopped in the barn to check on Roanie before he made his way to the kitchen for coffee. Squatting down, he gently tested the roan’s leg, working with practiced hands, exploring the damage to the delicate muscle. The swelling was down and the pain had apparently lessened.

After coffee and a solitary breakfast, Laredo worked in the rose garden; he installed the trellises he’d built earlier in the week and transplanted some shrubs Savannah wanted him to move. She hadn’t come outside and he guessed she was still busy in the house. Actually he hoped she’d treat herself and sleep in. She must have been exhausted yesterday, cooking for her ungrateful brother. He gritted his teeth just thinking about the other man.

Shortly after noon Richard wandered out of the bunkhouse, looking as if he hadn’t been awake more than a few minutes. His hair was mussed and he yawned as he strolled across the yard, his shirt unbuttoned. He wore canvas shoes without socks.

Before going to the house for lunch, Laredo decided to rewrap Roanie’s leg and apply the ointment again. He was half-finished when he felt someone’s presence. He turned around and found Grady standing outside the stall watching him.