TWO MONTHS LATER
“All done, Mr. Brett.”
Brett glanced up from the ledger sheets documenting the latest calf arrivals to see Earl McCauley standing in the doorway of the study. The gray-headed man had been a friend of the family for years and owned McCauley’s Seed and Sow—the one and only landscaping service in town. He’d been working for the past few days, weeding and tilling and turning the overgrown patch where Brett’s Pappy spent so much time into the viable tomato garden that it had once been.
“The rows are all done, the spikes in place.” The man sat a small cardboard box at his feet before pulling a red handkerchief from his pocket and mopping his brow. “We put in the state-of-the-art watering system that you wanted, as well as the six-foot fence to make sure the deer don’t get at the seedlings.”
“Thanks so much, Mr. McCauley. I know Pappy will be very happy.”
The older man nodded. “My pleasure. Your pappy’s a good man.” He shook his head. “It ain’t fair what’s happened to him.”
It wasn’t. Not by a long shot.
At the same time, Brett had stopped regretting the past. Instead, he was focused on making each day forward the best that it could be for his grandfather. Sometimes that meant confusion and chaos. But once in a while, on those rare occasions, it meant a calm peace that stole through the house and reminded Brett of how truly blessed he was to still have the old man in his life.
Like today.
A chair squeaked as the old man rocked on the back porch. Willie Nelson’s “On the Road Again” drifted through the screen door.
Life wasn’t perfect all the time, but it had its moments.
Brett’s gaze shifted to the screensaver on his nearby laptop. It was a selfie that Callie had taken of the two of them down by the creek that night after he’d proposed to her. They held each other close and smiled as she held up the ring he’d slipped on her finger just before asking her to marry him.
After all this time, they were finally together the way they should have been in the first place.
A smile touched his lips as he lifted his attention back to the landscaper. “Just give me a few minutes and I’ll write you a check for the invoice.”
Brett had sold his touring bus just last month and had made enough to get the ranch back on track for the next few months. In the meantime, he’d followed through on his plan to offer up two of Bootleg’s prized bulls for breeding to the highest bidders. The projected income would be just enough to give the ranch an actual profit for the coming year.
His pappy had been right. Brett was every bit the rancher his father had been and then some.
A fact he was no longer ashamed to admit. He was Berle Sawyer’s son, and while he had no desire to turn into his old man, he had inherited a few of his better qualities. And that was okay.
Family was family.
Good and bad.
Callie had helped him see that, just as he’d helped her. She was every bit as stubborn as her own grandfather had been—a Tucker through and through—and he loved her for it. He loved the way she stared him down when she thought he was too big for his britches, just as much as he loved the way her eyes darkened when he was deep, deep inside of her.
“Thanks so much,” Earl said when Brett handed him a signed check. “If you need anything else, just let me know.” Earl turned and Brett went back to the ledger sheet.
“Oh, and by the way,” Earl added, drawing Brett’s attention once again. “What do you want me to do with this stuff?” The older man lifted the box at his feet.
“What stuff?”
“Just some old coffee cups.” Earl rummaged inside. “A few pieces of what looks like some costume jewelry, a couple of faded pictures, and a few other things. We found it all when we dug up the garden. Most of it is covered in dirt and pretty much ruined. I could throw it out if you want—”
“No,” Brett cut in, pushing to his feet. He rounded the desk in a matter of seconds as his mind traveled back to the last time he’d seen the inside of his grandfather’s safe and its contents before fast-forwarding to the PBR buckle that Karen had recovered from Pappy. The one he’d been digging in the garden with.
Digging?
Or burying?
“The revenuers are coming,” his Pappy had said just a few nights ago right before he’d headed out to his garden. “We have to hide everything.”
It had been the same thing the old man had said to Karen when she’d found him with the buckle.
“Just leave it with me,” Brett said, taking the cardboard container from the man.
“You’re the boss.” Earl signaled good-bye and turned on his heel while Brett’s heart beat ninety-to-nothing as he walked back to the desk and set the box on top.
He knew even before he glanced inside what he would find. His gaze shifted and he drank in some of the contents that had once been locked away securely in the safe. His grandmother’s bracelet. Her necklace. The bronze baby boots modeled after Brett’s first pair. The treasured photographs of his great-grandparents on their wedding day, Pappy in his christening gown, Pappy’s first Christmas with his beloved wife, Martha. The small white Bible that Karen had carried during her confirmation sat tucked away amid the dirt-smeared treasures, a yellowed piece of paper sticking out from its dingy folds.
Brett’s fingers touched the ancient paper and excitement whispered through him as he slid it free.
And just like that, he found himself staring at the other half of the infamous Texas Thunder recipe.
His muscles went tight and the oxygen snagged in his lungs as reality crashed in on him.
A day late, and several thousand dollars short, but he’d found it.
He’d finally found it.