Single-Dad Cowboy by Vicki Lewis Thompson
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jake insisted on giving Claire the front seat on the trip to the airport. Zeke glanced in the rearview mirror as his daughter chattered away, regaling Jake with stories about her beloved Gramma Frannie and Grampa Bud.
Jake was quick with a smile or a comment whenever Claire twisted toward the back seat. The rest of the time he sat in stoic silence, his big hands gripping his knees, his jaw clenched tight.
Zeke wasn’t crazy about the stream of praise for Bud, either. He switched on the radio to distract himself and Jake from the litany of Bud’s awesomeness. Helped a little.
At some point in the past few hours he’d switched to calling him Bud instead of my dad. It was a small act of rebellion that added distance. Clearly Jake had noticed because he’d started doing it, too.
The side-view mirror gave him a glimpse of the gleaming vintage grille of Garrett’s refurbished truck. The other six members of the Brotherhood had divided up between Garrett’s truck and Matt’s shiny black one. Leo and Rafe rode with Garrett. CJ and Nick were with Matt. All three trucks had been washed and detailed.
Every so often Jake turned around and looked through the back window. He was likely as cheered by the caravan as Zeke was. Everyone had taken CJ’s suggestion and dressed to the nines. Hats were brushed and boots polished. Zeke wore the black shirt Nell admired so much.
Claire had on her favorite yoked shirt and her newest pair of jeans. Her boots were polished and her hat brushed, too. He’d asked if she wanted to wear the dress Gramma Frannie had sent her for Easter. She’d rejected the idea, announcing that she was a wrangler, now, and wranglers didn’t wear frilly dresses.
His mom would be disappointed not to see Claire wearing it, but he didn’t push. His daughter had a right to choose. If the dress never came out of the closet, they’d donate it to charity.
They’d hit the halfway point when his tolerance for Bud stories gave out. He switched off the radio. “Hey, sweetie, remember how we sang rounds when we made the drive to Apple Grove in February?”
“I sure do. That was fun!”
He checked in the rearview. “Want to sing rounds with us, Uncle Jake?”
“You bet, little brother.”
“Yay!” Claire bounced in her seat. “I’ll start us off, then Daddy, then you. I’ll point to each of you when it’s your turn. Got it?”
Jake smiled. “Got it, Claire-bear.”
She giggled. Jake had come up with the rhyming nickname a few weeks ago in reference to her large collection of teddy bears. She clearly loved him to call her that. “You’re silly, Uncle Jake.”
“Never said I wasn’t.”
“Do you know Row, Row, Row Your Boat?”
“I believe I do. If I get stuck, I’ll just fake it.”
“I’ll tell it to you.” She recited the words slowly. “Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream. Think you can remember that?”
“I’ll do my best.”
Zeke checked in the mirror again. Jake’s expression had improved a hundred and fifty percent. His eyes had lost their haunted look. The signature Jake twinkle was back.
“When I do this chopping motion with my hand, that means we quit and go to the next song. Otherwise you’ll get sick of this one.”
“You have more songs?” Jake’s expression brightened even more.
“Oh, yeah. A ton of them.”
“Excellent.”
“Okay, here we go!” Claire belted out the first line, pointed at him and then turned to signal Jake.
Ah, much better. They didn’t sound half-bad, either. Jake was clearly into it, adding rowing motions to his backseat performance. They might make it through this part of the trip, after all.
The ride home would be a challenge, though. He and Jake had discussed the seating arrangement. They’d stick Bud at shotgun and put Claire in the back between her Gramma Frannie and Jake.
Bud wasn’t exactly a joy to have in the passenger seat, but it was better than making Jake deal with him. The few times Zeke had driven Bud somewhere, he’d spent the time offering unsolicited advice on navigating traffic. Maybe they’d sing rounds on the way back, too.
* * *
The plane was on time. So was the Brotherhood. Matt took charge, organizing the lineup at the base of the escalator and placing Zeke and Claire in the middle. After much discussion, Jake claimed the place on Claire’s other side.
Claire was in favor. “He’ll be glad to see you, Uncle Jake. He might not get to show it because he doesn’t want Gramma Frannie to know, but inside he’ll be very happy you’re there.”
Her innocent evaluation made Zeke’s heart hurt. Over the top of Claire’s head, he met Jake’s gaze. Any amusement left over from singing rounds was gone. The light of battle glowed in his brother’s eyes.
Zeke’s breath caught. “Jake…”
“No worries, little brother. I’m cool.”
Yeah, right. Cool like a tempered blade of steel.
“He’ll be fine,” Garrett murmured from his other side.
Zeke turned his head and encountered an identical steeliness in Garrett’s eyes. Come to think of it, the Brotherhood had fallen completely silent. The joking had stopped and every man faced forward in readiness.
The lineup for the arrival of the field trip bus had been nothing like this. Easy camaraderie had dominated that moment.
This was a show of force.
“Here they come!” Claire broke ranks, hurried to the edge of the marked space and hopped up and down. Taking off her Stetson, she waved it back and forth as she called out to her grandparents.
Zeke closed the gap separating him from Jake and the right side of the line shifted to maintain unity.
His parents were an attractive couple, both fit and well-dressed. He used to be proud of that. Now, seeing them together with their matching leather carry-ons, his stomach pitched.
They were a lie perpetrated by the silver-haired man he now called Bud. His mother, still blonde thanks to a talented hairdresser, and youthful because of good genes and an exercise routine, was a victim.
She waved back to Claire and blew her kisses. Bud focused on the Brotherhood and a muscle worked in his jaw.
“He’s intimidated,” Jake said in a low voice. “Excellent.”
“Does he look any different to you?”
“Other than the white hair? Nope. Eleven years have barely touched the guy. Does he still put cream on his face every night?”
“Yessir.”
“Vain bastard.”
“Guess it works.”
“Or he’s made a deal with the devil. I prefer that theory.” Jake sucked in a breath and blew it out. “Your mom looks nice.”
“She is nice.” His throat tightened as she ran to Claire, crouched down and scooped her into a hug.
“Rips your heart out.”
“Yes, it does.” He cleared his throat. “I’d better go meet her.”
He walked toward his mother as Claire wiggled out of her grasp and raced to hug her grandfather. His mom stood and gazed at him, her smile wobbly.
“Hey, Mom.” He wrapped her in his arms and breathed in the perfume that had meant mom all his life. “Missed you.”
She swallowed. “Missed you, too. I know about Jake.”
He went still. “You do?”
“Your father told me a week ago, before we made the reservations.”
He drew back and searched her face. She had tears in her eyes, but her expression was resolute and surprisingly calm. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve always suspected he had a secret from his past. Something big he was keeping from me. It’s almost a relief to know what it was.”
A secret from his past.She had less than half the story. He’d tread carefully. “I’m glad he told you, but Claire thinks you don’t know.”
She glanced over her shoulder. Behind her, Bud had crouched so he was eye-level with Claire. Clearly they were having a heart-to-heart, with Claire nodding as he talked. “He’s telling her, now.”
“Well, then. That’ll make things easier on her.”
“And you. And Jake for that matter.”
“I suppose.”
“He realized the position he was putting you in.”
“He did?”
“Oh, yeah. It was a come-to-Jesus moment for your father.”
“Hm.” He doubted Bud had ever had such a moment or ever would.
“I was desperate to see you guys and it looked like you wouldn’t be coming to us. I even said I’d come by myself if he couldn’t make it. That’s when he told me.”
“I see.”
“He didn’t want to make you and Claire responsible for keeping this big secret from me.”
Zeke wasn’t about to give Bud that much credit. More likely he was afraid his wife would follow through on her threat to come alone and stumble upon the secret while she was here. He had to cover his ass before it was handed to him.
“Hello, son.” Bud had an adoring Claire tucked in close.
Couldn’t very well punch a guy who was holding a hostage. Not that Zeke would do that. Much as he’d love to. “Hey, Bud.” He gave him a quick, one-armed hug.
Bud’s silver eyebrows arched, but he didn’t comment on the use of his first name. “Guess we need to go meet this Brotherhood we’ve been hearing so much about.”
Zeke bristled. “The Brotherhood happens to be a—”
“Yeah!” Claire gave a little hop. “My uncles! Come on, Gramma and Grampa! They got all dressed up to meet you. Don’t they look awesome?”
His mom’s approving gaze swept over them. “They’re an impressive bunch, all right.”
“True, true.” Bud’s chuckle revealed a touch of nervousness. “Wouldn’t want to get on the bad side of those guys.”
Zeke allowed himself a grim smile. Too late, Bud.
