Carefully, very slowly, he began to lift one foot and try to fit it into one leg of his jeans. He caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror and nearly scared himself with his scowl. This was insane. If he didn’t want to see his family, why had he come home?
Because he’d wanted a place to heal, not a party.
“Go on and wash up and try to pull yourself together,” Delia called. “We took a thermos cup for ’em to put your coffee in, so it’s still good and hot.”
He heard rustling noises.
“I think your main surprise is still warm, too,” LydaAnn said. “Can you smell what it is?”
He couldn’t, but he realized then where they’d been. They were happy he was home and this was another welcome—they’d gone down the road to Hugo’s to get the cinnamon rolls he had always loved. He ought to be ashamed of himself for being such a sorehead.
But the hard knot in his stomach only tightened and he took his time with his morning ablutions. He didn’t have a choice about how long it took, did he? He couldn’t move fast enough to catch a snail.
Finally, he raked his hands through his hair, tried to contort his face into some semblance of pleasantness and went out to meet them.
The sight did make him smile. There sat his sisters, each cross-legged on either end of his bed with a picnic of cinnamon rolls and coffee set out between them on a towel spread between the paper wrappings and the bare mattress. Bobbie Ann’s daughters. No, if they truly were, they’d have brought a tablecloth and the good silver from the house. Then he noticed that they had real mugs for the coffee.
They’d dragged one of the old straight chairs out of the bunkhouse kitchen for him and set it on the floor halfway between them, facing the bed.
“So,” he drawled, as he limped toward them, “I’m supposed to sit here in the hot seat?”
“Relax,” Delia drawled back at him. “We won’t jump on you too hard yet—we’ll wait ’til you’re able to defend yourself.”
“Well, that’s mighty good of you,” he said. “I appreciate it.”
“Everybody at Hugo’s said to tell you ‘hey,’” LydaAnn said. “Bill Ed Traywick wants to talk to you about when you rode The Twister.”
Monte’s scowl came back.
“What about it?”
“Bill Ed rode him, too, one time at the Mesquite Rodeo.”
“Rode ’im or got on ’im?”
Both girls laughed.
“Got on him,” Delia said. “Bill Ed said he never knew a man could spin so fast and not have his head torn off his body.”
That made Monte laugh, too. A little. But he wasn’t going to start hanging out at Hugo’s, jawing with the boys. The very thought made him want to crawl in a hole.
Delia, who like Bobbie Ann was able to read a man’s mind, watched him as he carefully sat down.
“Don’t worry, Mont,” she said, “we told them all that you aren’t receiving visitors at this time.”
“I don’t know if Jennifer Taylor will exactly respect your wish for privacy, though,” LydaAnn said, grinning widely. “She was remembering you fondly to everyone there. Something about a nighttime swim in the Guadalupe River.”
“Jennifer Taylor was married before I ever left here,” Monte growled.
“Well, she’s not married anymore. And she told us twice to tell you ‘hey.’”
Delia nodded.
“Jennifer would love even just one date so everybody could be talking about it,” she said. “Her sister, Carrie, has gotten all the attention for so long.”
“How’s that?” Monte asked, just to be halfway polite.
But as long as his sisters were talking, he didn’t have to.
“The money,” LydaAnn said. “Did you hear about that embezzlement scandal at the courthouse? A year ago. Lots of people think it was Carrie who got the money, but if she did, she let Larry Riley go to prison for it.”
“Yeah, Monte, surely you heard about that,” Delia said. “The trial was on TV all over Texas. Remember—Carrie was married to Larry’s cousin, Steve. That’s how she got the job in the first place.”
Monte got that swimming feeling in his head again. He reached for the coffee mug LydaAnn was filling.
“Too much gossip,” he said. “Y’all’re makin’ me dizzy. Give me a break, okay?”
They both frowned at him.
“Don’t you even care?” LydaAnn said.
“No! And how come you even told everybody I was here?”
Delia shook her head and gazed at him with pity in her eyes.
“I could’ve kept you undercover if you’d called me to come and get you,” she said. “But appearing out of nowhere at the Bandera sale and hitching a ride home for you and your horse did sorta put you in the public eye, brother dear.”
He took a great gulp of the steaming strong coffee and immediately felt a little bit better.
“My mistake,” he said, shaking his head. “What was I thinking?”
“We’d love to know,” said LydaAnn.
The silence grew as she poured another cup of coffee and handed it to Delia.
“For the last six years we’ve wondered that very thing,” LydaAnn said.
Monte’s gut turned to concrete but he kept on drinking coffee.
“Hey, I thought y’all said I could get my strength back before I had to defend myself.”
“We did,” Delia said with a sharp glance at her sister. “And we will.”
She folded back the foil that covered each huge cinnamon roll and passed them out with handfuls of napkins. Then, to his great amusement, she did hand around the good silver forks with the Rocking M brand on them. Monte relaxed a little and set his coffee on the towel so he could eat.
“A little bit of a social life will be good for you, though, Mont, whenever you’re feeling a little better,” LydaAnn said encouragingly.
He just let that slide. No way was he arguing with them about that now. These two were into music and barrel racing and cutting horses and fun of all kinds. They knew everything about everybody for miles around, and they’d be trying to drag him into all of their lives, too, just to make him feel at home.
“Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind,” he said.
What he had to do was feel human again.
In the middle of the morning, he was out in the pen behind the bunkhouse brushing Annie when his mother appeared at his elbow. He startled.
“If I’d been a snake…” she said, her smile bright.
It made him smile back at her, even though he didn’t want any company—not even his mom.
“If you’d bit me, you’d have a bad taste in your mouth,” he said. “I’m pretty sour.”
“You’re a sweet sight to me,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re home.”
He liked to hear it but it made him feel guilty, too. And trapped.
“The place looks good,” he said, and walked around the mare to work on her long, tangled mane.
As always, his mother sensed his mood.
“Well,