Page 21 of A Baby for the Texas Cowboy (The Texas Wolf Brothers #3)

“I didn’t want you to have to deal with all the crap from kids at school and the gossips of the town.

The coroner was kind. The police chief kinder.

For years people kept talking about Aurik dying, haunting Fury Creek.

Then Mom died only months later, overdosing in the house.

” Axel paused and closed his eyes, and Anders realized in dread that Axel had probably found her too.

She’d closed herself off in Aurik’s room, and their father had taken to sleeping in the barn.

“People in town talked about hearing her ghost wandering down in the hollow along the creek calling out for Aurik. Last thing you needed was a hangman story following you around your last couple years of high school.”

Axel paused looked at Anders, opened his mouth, then shook his head and turned back to his horse.

Axel had hated the tragedy and ghost gossip surrounding their family. August had loved it, making up even more haunting stories. Anders had never seen a ghost and hoped to keep it that way.

“We never talked like this before,” Anders said, almost marveling despite the revelations that made him feel dizzy.

His dad had left them first in a bottle, and then finally by his own hand.

And Anders had let him. He hadn’t reached out to his father at all.

He’d felt it was his father’s duty to protect his family and he hadn’t.

He’d left it all to his eldest son. The entire burden.

He held out his hand, needing the contact.

Axel reached out a large hand and hauled him to his feet like he weighed the same as a bag of oats.

“That’s on me,” Axel said. “I was in survival mode for years. After you left to chase the pro rodeo and then got your ticket to the AEbr the next year, I cleaned out the house, locked it up, even nailed shut the front door,” he said. “Too many ghosts.”

Anders hugged his brother hard. Axel stiffened and then hugged him back, then embarrassed they both moved back.

“Thank you for being my brother,” Anders said, “but you don’t need to protect me anymore. I want to share your burdens. I want to contribute to the family and the ranch.”

“You do,” Axel said. His attention was back on his horse. “You’ve invested in the ranch since you started earning, and August tells me you were his initial investor for the distillery. You pull your weight, Anders.”

“When I’m finished with the tour I was planning to move back home. Work the ranch. Expand into breeding bucking bulls. I’ve talked about it with Kane Wilder. He and his family have an expanding operation in Montana.”

“Working with you will give the Wilders more reach with less traveling stress on the bulls,” Axel deduced. “Smart. You got the capital.”

“Not all. Thought I’d have five more years to earn and invest,” he said.

“You made up your mind to quit?”

Everything inside him rebelled, but he tried to squelch his reaction.

Axel led Sundown back toward his stall, and after a moment when Anders considered the merits of hard kicking one of the planks of the arena but decided it would be immature and likely spook Nocturnal, he grabbed the bridle and led Nocturnal back to her stall farther down the row.

“Was it as hard on you as it feels now to me?” Anders found the courage to ask. “Because I feel gutted leaving.”

“Then don’t leave yet. I didn’t have a choice,” Axel said. “You’ve got Tinsley and time. You’re smart. You’ll know what the best course is for yourself and for the child when the time comes. When I made my decision, it didn’t really seem like a choice.”

“Tinsley doesn’t seem like she agrees with me about anything. She keeps shoving me away saying I can be involved —” he air-quoted the word with a sneer “—as a dad as much as I want to be when the baby’s born, like it’s some part-time gig I’m going to do when the mood strikes.”

Then he did kick part of the arena fence. The board split.

“Well, there’s your answer for what you’re going to do next,” Axel said staring at the split wood.

Anders swore under his breath. “She says she doesn’t need me.”

And she doesn’t want me.

His chest ached at that.

“She doesn’t want to need you,” Axel translated. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why doesn’t she want to need you? Why is she avoiding talking about the future? She’s smart. She knows it’s going to come. She knows you’re a good man. Find out what she’s afraid of.”

Axel walked out of the barn like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb.

*

“I thought I understood why August was so determined for you to run the tasting room and help us brand our wine after I met you at our wedding and saw the sales figures for Cowboy Wolf Whiskey,” Catalina said that evening as she and Tinsley stood outside on the transformed back patio of Verflucht.

“You are a visionary and an organizational genius. And you don’t take no for an answer. ”

Catalina surveyed the yard behind the tasting room that earlier this morning she’d dismissed with “I’m not exactly sure, maybe a patio” this morning when Tinsley had asked.

Tinsley had pulled out the ideas she’d been working on, the research she’d done, and the sketches. She and Catalina had divided the work and then had been non-stop on the phone and online placing orders and arranging deliveries and labor.

What had been a large patch of dirt this morning with a sagging, jerry-rigged fence was now was re-fenced in the old style of wood post and wrapped wire, and each distressed wood post had a grapevine planted in front of it, which as it grew would be trained to wrap around the wires.

Ten galvanized feed bins had been delivered from the local feed store, and then the hardware and gardening store had delivered a mountain of potting soil, a fig tree, two peach trees and seven olive trees from a local grower.

Catalina had texted two cellar workers to help, and between them, they’d drilled holes in the improvised, fairly cheap planters, positioned them for maximum visual impact and then planted the trees.

Outdoor furniture had been ordered and delivered, and two ranch hands had been dispatched to San Antonio to pick up two eight-foot-long gas fireplaces that would serve as focal points for two larger seating arrangements.

“And you persuaded August to have a pizza oven built out here,” Catalina said. “I feel like we are opening a restaurant.”

“Nope. We are creating a tasting room but also a wine bar,” Tinsley said.

“The tourists and locals wanting to taste and learn can start inside the tasting room—which reminds me, I’d like to discuss different seating there now that the patio is nearly done.

Customers can join our wine group, buy a bottle or two at a membership discount, order one of our snack plates made with locally sourced ingredients, and picnic and drink on the patio.

We’ll pair the food with the wine and rotate the menu seasonally to feature different local farmers as well as food from Ghost Hill—you did mention that you wanted to restore the original garden and also create a garden up near the East Barn. ”

Catalina wrapped her arms around Tinsley and hugged her hard.

“I am so, so, so excited,” she said fiercely. Tinsley felt a little startled—both by Catalina’s strength in her small, wiry body and the intensity of the hug.

Tinsley had been an only child. Her parents had been demanding, exacting—not warm or loving or fun.

She had a nanny for that—well, many nannies.

And tutors and teachers for everything from music to dance to riding and jumping and later dressage, and of course for her school subjects.

She hadn’t needed academic help—her classes had all been honors, AP or college prep, but her father and mother had been adamant that she be tutored up.

They had wanted her to attend a top-tier university.

And until five years ago when she’d left everyone and everything behind, she hadn’t disappointed.

Nor had she objected. And it occurred to her that despite all her so-called success and polish, no one had ever been happy to see her like Catalina and August had this morning.

Her parents had never hugged her for a job well done.

John’s eyes had never lit up because she walked into a room.

Tinsley slowly hugged Catalina back, not quite sure if she was overstepping. She felt awkward and wasn’t sure what to say. Then she saw one of the men she’d met this morning at the winery rolling in one large olive-colored umbrella. Another deliveryman followed.

Tinsley showed them where to place the heavy-based umbrellas.

She liked the splash of color the umbrellas would provide during the day, and they’d mitigate the heat of the sun.

Heat lamps would warm cool evenings, which would start soon, according to Catalina.

Those were being delivered tomorrow. She and Catalina had been discussing the merits of adding on a covered outdoor space.

“What if we had the boys build on to the existing structure?” Catalina asked, turning her back on the transformation of the outdoor area to look at the three-story former small granary with the original silo restored on top of the apartment.

“The boys.” Tinsley snorted. Anders, August, and, from what she’d heard, Axel, were far from boys. Both August and Anders spoke of Axel with reverence, as if they didn’t quite measure up, which was ridiculous.

Tinsley’s mouth froze before she could utter her next words. She had thought something positive about Anders. That was happening more and more, and she no longer felt the driving need to stop it.

He was the father of her baby.

There. She’d thought about the B word. Progress.

And not a panic attack in sight.

Catalina continued talking about something, ignorant of Tinsley’s epiphany.