Carson West had a plan. He had a plan to walk up to his father, hand him back the letter he’d sent—offering him a job as the physician of a clinic in Hope, Oklahoma—and tell him “Not in this lifetime.” No way would he give up the opportunity he’d been offered in Chicago for a job in a town that had seen better days fifty years ago.
No way would he settle in the town his mother had fled twenty years ago. She had taken her three children and nothing else. They hadn’t even been allowed to pack a suitcase. They hadn’t told friends they were leaving. They’d just gone in the middle of the night, like thieves fleeing the scene of the crime.
It seemed like a lifetime ago, but today he was back and he planned on letting Jack West know how it had felt to lose a father, even one who had randomly yelled, drank until he passed out, or woke them up at night with nightmares no one could sleep through. Because of his two tours in Vietnam, those behaviors hadn’t been in Jack’s control. But letting his family go without ever trying to contact them? Carson did blame him for that.
As he eased his SUV up the drive of the once rundown farm, he noticed several obvious differences. The white farmhouse with faded paint had been remodeled. The garage appeared to now be apartments. A short distance away stood a log home with stone trim and an attached three-car garage.
He’d been thirteen when they left, and it hadn’t been easy leaving this place. His father had been tough, sometimes angry, never predictable, but he’d still been their father. After a while Carson had buried the best of his memories and tried to push this place from his mind.
But after all of these years, had he expected to find it unchanged? Had he expected the old dog Pete to still be sleeping on the front porch? Did he think there would still be the same overgrown lawn, broken-down tractors and aging farm trucks?
Instead of finding the farm he remembered, he saw a place that had become something completely different. Most significantly, there had been a sign at the front of the property welcoming him to Mercy Ranch.
Carson slowed as he drove past the house but kept going, in the direction of the supersized and modern stable that stood where the old barn used to be. He could see people milling about and guessed it would be the best place to find Jack.
He parked, ignoring the curious glances of the men who were pulling sacks of grain from the back of a truck and carrying them inside. He got out and opened the passenger door of the Escalade. His daughter, Maggie, grinned up at him, her blond ringlets sticking to her face where she’d gotten sticky with juice. Almost three years old, she giggled often and jabbered nonstop. Her brown eyes were warm and her nose pert. She looked just like Anna, and each time he realized that, it hurt. Not as much as it had at first, but the pain was definitely still there.
He unbuckled her from the car seat and she held out her arms to him. As he settled her on his left side, she patted his arm and reminded him to get her brother, Andy.
His son Andy would be five in six months and he was Maggie’s complete opposite. With Carson’s dark hair and gray eyes, he was the serious one, quiet, always watching, always thinking. Even now his gaze focused on the window, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed this new place.
Carson pocketed the letter from his father and helped his son out of the SUV. In the arena a couple of horses and riders worked cattle with the late afternoon sun beating down on them. He could hear calves calling for their mamas and a horse whinnying somewhere in the distance. It was the sounds of Carson’s youth, and yet nothing appeared to be the same since when his mom had taken them away.
Carson beat back his anger. He guessed that sentiment had been on low heat since he’d left Dallas that morning, heading north to Hope. What a ridiculous name for a washed-out resort town with tumbledown buildings, no stoplights and bad memories. Hope. There was no hope here.
The only thing here was the past. And he’d come home to confront it, to confront his father.
Carson, his brother Colt and little sister Daisy were all jacked up because of this place, the man who lived here and the past.
“Hello?” He heard a soft voice from behind him.
“Hi,” Maggie said as she peeked over his shoulder. She patted his arm to get his attention. “Daddy. Look.”
Andy, ever unsure of strangers, had climbed out of the SUV and was holding tight to his leg. Carson did an awkward turn, holding one child in his arms while the other clung to his jeans like they were a lifeline. His gaze dropped to the woman who barely reached his shoulder. Light brown hair lifted in the breeze and drifted across her face.
A Labrador puppy tumbled