Page 3 of Unforgettable Cowboy (Montana’s Rodeo Cowboys #1)

Hayes went through the house to his old bedroom, a small room with a window that opened silently—very handy back in the day.

It had taken a lot of constant maintenance with a bar of soap to keep it that way, and the only time he’d been caught coming in when he was already supposed to be in had been after he’d slacked off on window-squeak maintenance.

Wade had been the kind of guardian who wasn’t all that concerned about school or grades—as long as Hayes and his brothers were passing, he didn’t care how much time they’d spent skipping class to practice for rodeo—but he didn’t want his boys out drinking and partying until all hours.

Hayes and his brothers knew that was because Wade had been a wild child himself.

A “do as I say, not as I do” type of situation that the brothers had taken in stride.

As they’d grown, and heard stories about their uncle, they realized the changes he’d embraced when he’d become their guardian.

Hayes’s late father had been the quiet Matthews brother, deeply into home and family; Wade could not be tied down.

Ironic that he’d ended up being a damned good father to not only Hayes and Trev, but also to Jordan, their foster brother, who’d come to them as a toddler.

Despite his spotty school attendance, Hayes had managed to nail down a couple of scholarships but had decided to go the rodeo route instead of heading to college.

He sometimes wondered if that was why Bailey had dumped him.

He’d been two years into his career the summer they’d gotten together, but rodeo wasn’t the most secure life path, and Bailey—even though she would have denied it with her dying breath—was looking for security.

She never mentioned family troubles, as if they’d go away if she didn’t speak of them, but Hayes knew that things had been rough for her the last years of high school before her stepdad had moved on to greener pastures and a younger woman.

Bailey, with her cowgirl swagger and fearless facade, had driven him nuts.

Now she was back on the Tree Fork, and he had the feeling that very little had changed in that regard.

His phone rang as he passed the small bathroom where he’d learned to shave. Finally, one of his brothers had gotten the messages he’d left concerning Wade’s accident.

“How is he?” Jordan asked. Hayes perched on the edge of the neatly made bed as he answered. He patted the covers and a pouf of dust rose in the air. It’d been a while since he’d been home.

“He was out of it when I stopped by. The surgery was successful, and I’ll see him first thing tomorrow.”

“Damn,” Jordan said. “Maybe he shouldn’t be living alone? How long is Parker supposed to be gone?”

Wade had hired Dan Parker as his live-in ranch hand around the time that the Matthews brothers had started leaving home. Dan and his wife Vera had been mainstays of the operation until late that spring when Dan had taken a half-year leave of absence to have back surgery.

“October. I think? And I wonder what he’ll be capable of when he gets back.”

“Wade may have to keep his day hands longer than anticipated.” The plan, as near as the brothers could tell, since Wade had been customarily vague about it, was for him to lease the farming to their neighbor Jim Reed, and to hire day hands to help him handle the cattle and maintenance.

“Did you know that Bailey was one of the day hands?”

“Bailey? Your Bailey?”

Not my Bailey.

“She’s been here for a couple months.”

“You talked to her?”

“Briefly.”

“How was the reunion?” Jordan spoke with a hint of caution. Hayes had denied it at the time, but his middle brother had sensed how ruined he’d been when Bailey dumped him.

“She punched me.”

“For real?”

“I startled her,” Hayes said before changing the subject. “I have things handled on this end for now. When you and Trev come for the rodeo, I’ll know more, and we can come up with a plan to keep Wade from hurting himself before he’s healed.”

“You can get that much time off?” Jordan was aware that this was the Buckhorn Ranch’s busy time as they tackled fall chores and prepped for guests for hunting season.

Hayes moistened his lips. “I quit them.”

“Did you?” Jordan did not sound surprised.

“Should have quit when the ranch sold to the investment partnership.”

“Live and learn. What’s your next move?”

“I’m sitting good financially, so I might stay here until Parker comes back.” The idea had played in his head on the drive home from the Buckhorn. He’d have to wait and see how things played out. “Keeping Wade from hurting himself will be a full-time job.”

“I imagine so, unless this broken leg humbles him.”

“Good one.” Hayes couldn’t imagine anything humbling Wade Matthews for long.

“I try,” Jordan said. “I want updates. If you think I should come to help, let me know. I’ll try to work out something.”

They both knew that would be difficult. As an independent contractor in a niche industry—shaft sinking—Jordan was constantly in demand and constantly fighting deadlines. As near as Hayes could tell, his jobs consisted of one emergency situation followed by another.

“Right. If things get tough, I’ll do that. Where do you think Trev is?”

“He and Dylan were supposed to compete at the Lewiston Roundup, I think. Hard to keep track.”

“I hope he checks his messages some century.” Unlike the rest of his generation, Trev was not a phone guy.

It was inconvenient, but Hayes was kind of impressed with his brother’s attitude toward technology, especially since he’d surprised everyone and made it his career—for the wrong reason in Hayes’s opinion.

Trev had turned himself inside out trying to be the man his now ex-fiancé had wanted him to be.

Things had not ended well, but Trev now had a decent career and a steady paycheck.

Hell, both his brothers had decent careers. Hayes did not.

After ending the call, Hayes lay back on his bed, feet still planted on the floor.

The room was stark. No childhood memorabilia remained.

He and his brothers had made a point of emptying their rooms before leaving home, donating, recycling and tossing the bits and pieces of their lives so that Wade wouldn’t be stuck curating their belongings.

Because of that, Hayes’s room contained a dresser, a bed and a layer of dust on the floor, a far cry from the custom cabin he’d lived in on the Buckhorn Ranch.

No fancy mini appliances, hardwood floors and tile.

No micromanagers. No HR department.

Hayes smiled despite his exhaustion. He’d take it.