Page 28 of Baker (Bastian Brothers #1)

Chapter Thirteen

T here are some moments that carve memories deep into your brain.

Seated on the front porch swing, wearing a thin jacket and holding a cup of coffee in my hand with a full belly, I felt that this time was one of those moments.

Dodge had come back from the airport over by the rez with his son Dahn, a scraggly Asian boy of ten with a mop of black hair, a shy smile, and an instant love of goats and chickens.

He was leery of the cows and horses, but that was understandable.

They were big. We’d introduce him to the horses slowly with treats and pets to fuzzy noses while he was here.

Hopefully, that will help ease him into loving them as much as he did the goats, which were, as much as I hated to admit it, damn cute.

The air was April fresh, and Granny’s tulips were up and open, filling the beds with shades of red, yellow, and purple.

Spring had sprung, and I was happy for it.

Winter was tough on a ranch. Snow and ice made chores twice as difficult and the long, cold, lonely nights seemed to drag on forever.

Seeing those bluebirds moving into their boxes always lifted the spirit.

As did watching a father be a good father to his son.

Dahn and Dodge had spent most of this Holy Saturday with the animals and were now in the front yard beside a lone pile of brush—all that remained of the mighty oak—supposedly tossing a football.

What I saw was Dodge trying to get the boy into a game of catch, but Dahn had found an old baton in the junk room/sewing room and was doing his best to twirl said baton.

The door behind me squeaked. I glanced over from the father and son to see Bella emerge.

She, too, had a cup of coffee or tea in her tiny hands.

I gave her a smile and jerked my chin at the empty space beside me.

She patted over, tucked her sweater around her lean body, and sat.

She was in a navy-toned ethereal kind of Stevie Nicks dress and soft blue flats.

Her hair was braided neatly, her face smooth as a baby’s backside, and her makeup delicately done.

She was quite pretty tonight. She was pretty every day, to be honest.

“He reminds me of myself at that age,” she said, blowing over her mug. The smell of peppermint wafted under my nose. So tea then. “I used to dream of being a baton twirler in elementary school, but my father beat that notion out of me.”

I felt that confession like a horse kick to the gut. “I’m sorry.” It was all I could think of to say.

Her gaze touched on me before flittering back to Dodge and Dahn.

“Me too, but we all have daddy issues.” I nodded sadly.

That was no lie. “Well, perhaps not Ford so much as you other Bastians. He was barely out of the womb when Cash exited stage left, but his mother moved on quickly. His stepfather is an amazing man. Took Ford as his own child. He got him that carpentry job with a cousin. Speaking of which, you should come see the fountain he created in the boutique. He has lots of skills. I told him he could be a stone mason as well as a carpenter. The fountain is gorgeous. All natural stones that we picked up on the hedgerows.”

“I’ll drop over real soon,” I vowed.

Shrewd jade eyes slid to me. “Are you upset over having a man who dreams of being a woman selling ladieswear on your property?” Her voice was soft, but her question was sharp.

“No, of course not. Why would that bother me?” The low of a cow rolled over the ranch, a sound that I had missed and was happy to have back.

“I saw that manly chest thumping moment with Mr. Manfred the other day.” A small sigh escaped her. “If I’m going to bring trouble to you or Granny, I can find a place to rent in town, perhaps.”

I turned on the swing to face her as Dahn tossed the baton into the air and caught it. Dodge had by now abandoned the football to cheer on his son. Good parenting 101 there. Encourage the child’s interests and don’t force yours.

“Don’t be silly. Manfred is a dumbass bigot who’s always been flinging his hateful shit around like a monkey in a zoo.

” That made the lines of worry on her smooth brow melt as the corners of her lips tweaked upward.

“He’s been shitty to anyone who isn’t the same as him for as long as I can remember.

You can ask Ollie or any of the Cherokee who has to deal with him.

Also, and this is probably the most important thing, if you left, who would touch up Granny’s gray roots or teach her how to make them cat eyeliner things on her eyelids?

Sure as hell not me or any of the other baboons on this ranch. ”

“I love how you’re like a porcupine on the outside but inside you’re an overripe avocado.”

My eyes flared. “I am not,” I indignantly huffed.

She giggled into her mug. “You so are, and it’s very sweet.

” She reached out to pat my knee before returning her palm to her mug.

She looked chilly, but serene. “You pretend not to care about anything but cows and horses, but I can see through that mask you wear. Little boys who are left behind by those they thought would take care of them build thick walls to protect their tiny hearts.”

“Mpfh.” Since I had nothing to say to counter her rather astute words, I just grunted and rocked a bit harder.

We watched the boy and his dad in pleasant silence, Bella taking up humming a song that I couldn’t place.

Dodge was now trying his hand at the baton and failing miserably.

Guess knowing how to fill a cavity didn’t help one whit when trying to do fancy majorette moves.

Not that I could have done better. I’d have had that old baton flung through Granny’s beloved bow window.

“This is nice,” she said after a few moments had passed. “Thank you for being so understanding about my reluctance to speak to the sheriff.”

I shrugged my good shoulder. The one not attached to an arm that ached from overuse today. “You had to do what was right for you. Not like I’m in any place to tell anyone how to handle their shit.”

“Well, seeing them now makes me feel better about giving my consent.” She curled into her sweater a little deeper.

“I’m glad. If you ever need to talk to anyone about whatever you left behind in the Big Apple, I’m not too bad at listening. We do a lot of that in group. Listening that is.” She bobbed her head. “I might not say much, but I listen good.”

“I think you say plenty, just not in too wordy of a way.” She leaned over to peck my cheek.

I felt my face grow warm. Kisses from pretty women and handsome men did that to me.

“I asked Ford to build a little room in the boutique for me to sleep in. I know it’s crowded in the house, and I do take a lot of time in the bathroom.

So I’m adding a small bath and bed space. ”

Dahn and his dad were twirling the heck out of that baton.

Not well or with any kind of skill, but man, they were having fun.

I felt funny seeing them. Like, on one hand, I was happy for my half-brother, but on the other hand, I was kind of jealous of Dahn.

That was the little boy inside me that Bella had been talking about, being envious of something he never had.

“You don’t have to move out of the house. We’re making do.”

“I know, but I need some space of my own. You understand.”

I did. We all needed space. Some more than others. “Okay then, as long as it’s what you want.”

“It is. So please do come see the boutique soon. I’d love your thoughts.”

I agreed to visit tomorrow. She took her cup and mine and went inside to sew and chat with Granny.

The sun was dipping behind the horizon when the sound of two women and an old sewing machine reached my ears.

The sky was a brilliant red, which led me to believe that Easter Sunday would be a delight.

The screen door opened. Granny stuck her head out.

“Eggs are ready for dyeing!” she yelled and got a whoop from Dodge, Dahn, and me.

It had been years since we’d dyed eggs. Not to toot my own horn, but I’d been damn good at finding all the eggs Granny aka The Easter Bunny had hidden back in the day.

I suspected I would win the hunt in the morning and get an extra special bunny-shaped pancake.

***

Sadly, my reign of being king of the egg hunt came to an inglorious end.

Dahn found two more than I did—I may have accidentally overlooked a bright pink egg hidden in the bag of goat chow—and got the special pancake. The rest of us losers had plain old, round flapjacks. I hid the pain of my loss with far too much syrup for a man my age.

We finished chores and then, at the behest of my grandmother, we started getting ready for church.

The others in the house seemed ill-at-ease, so I informed them that it was not mandatory to attend the Easter service.

I was only going to placate Granny. She knew my feelings about organized religion, but I was a big enough man to escort her on special days.

As the other men readied themselves, I moseyed over to the springhouse.

Bella bounced along at my side, chattering away about the fountain, the sign they were working on, and the pretty chiffon that she and Granny had uncovered in a tote.

Not that I really knew much about chiffon other than it was sheer and brides liked it. I was a flannel and denim guy.

When she unlocked the deadbolt, a new addition to the worn door, the tinkle of water met me first. Then, as we stepped inside, a dozen dress dummies scared the shit out of me.

Bella laughed merrily as my heart nearly leaped out of my chest. The forms were wearing dresses of bright colors with sashes around the middle.

They looked very vintage. Like something Audrey Hepburn would have worn in Roman Holiday.