Page 4 of Rancher's Return

“You must be Reggie, Marcus and Colton,” his mom said, going right over to the boys and forcing them into a hug as well. “You can call me Nana.”

He could sense the boys’ discomfort, but this was what he was here for. For the boys to have grandparents. To have family.

“You can call me Abe,” his dad said.

And that made the boys chuckle.

He heard a commotion at the door and looked up. There were all his brothers, filing out of the house: Boone, Jace, Chance, Kit and Flint. Buck was about to say something, when a fist connected with his jaw, and he found himself hurtling toward the ground as pain burst behind his eyelids.

“Boone!” He heard a woman’s shocked voice, though he couldn’t see her from where he was lying sprawled out on the ground.

“Ohshit!” That, he knew was Reggie.

“Fair call,” Buck said, sitting up and raising his hand in a “hold on” gesture. “Fair call, Boone.”

“Violence isn’t the answer, Boone,” came a lecturing teenage voice.

“Sometimes it is,” returned an equally lecturing different teenage voice. “Sometimes a person deserves to get punched in the face.”

“Maybe not right now,” the angry female voice said.

Buck stood up. And looked his brother square in the face.

“Good to see you again, Boone,” he said.

“Don’t think I won’t hit you again,” Boone said.

“Hey,” said his brother Jace, moving over to Boone and putting his hand on Boone’s shoulder. “Why don’t you guys punch it out on your own time.”

“I don’t have anyone to punch,” Buck said. “And I’ll take one. Maybe two. But no more than that.”

Chance and Kit exchanged glances, like they were considering getting in a punch of their own. For his part, Flint looked neutral.

For the first time, Buck got a look at the woman who had defended him.

“I’m Wendy,” she said. “I’m Boone’s wife.”

And he had a feeling the two lecturing teenage girls were Boone’s stepchildren. His mother had filled him in on everybody’s situation, more or less.

Right then, another woman came out of the house with a baby on her hip.

Callie.

His baby sister. Who had been maybe five years old when he’d left. He knew it was her. She was a mother herself. He had missed her whole damn life.

He was sad for himself, not for her.

There hadn’t been a damn thing he could’ve taught her. He hadn’t been worth anything at the point when he’d left. But he sure as hell felt sorry for himself. For missing out.

“Buck,” she said. Her eyes were soft, no anger in them whatsoever.

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s me.”

And he realized this whole reunion was going to be both more rewarding and more difficult than he had imagined.

Because his family wasn’t a vague, cloudy shape in the rearview mirror of his past anymore. His family was made up of a whole lot of people. People with thoughts and feelings about this situation. About him.

Hell. He had spent a little bit of time with the therapist himself.