Texas Bluff. Linda Warren

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      “And they’ll sire some mighty fine calves.” His dad’s voice grew excited.

      “You bet.”

      Henry ate a portion of the food then motioned for Luke to move the tray. “Lucy, where’s my walker?”

      Luke moved the tray out of harm’s way as Lucy brought the walker. Henry shuffled toward the hall with Lucy behind him. His mother was becoming so thin. Waiting on Henry was wearing her down. He tried to relieve her of some of her chores, but she always resisted his efforts. He had to try harder.

      “The miracle worker, the favorite son has returned,” Hank derided.

      “Shut up, Hank.”

      “What are your plans? Are you just gonna sponge off Mom and Pa?”

      “Like you?” he fired back without a thought.

      Hank bristled just as Luke knew he would. “I work my damn ass off to keep this ranch running. Since Pa’s stroke I’ve had to do everything. You’ve been no help whatsoever.”

      He kept his cool. “I’m here to help Mom, and this is my home.”

      “So that means you have no plans.”

      Luke stood eye-to-eye with his brother. They were the same height with the same dark hair and eyes. Luke may not have Chisum blood but he was matched perfectly with similar features. He had age on his side, broad shoulders and tight muscles. At fifty, Hank was getting soft around the middle, but what he lacked in muscle he made up for in sheer arrogance.

      “I told you I’m here to help Mom. Can’t you see how tired she is?”

      “She has help. Clover’s here and Paco’s wife helps out when Mom needs her. In the morning you get your ass in the saddle ready to ride. You’ll inherit this ranch and it’s time you earned it. Everything’s been given to you on a silver platter.”

      Luke didn’t rise to the bait. “You want me to be one of the hired hands?”

      “Something wrong with that?”

      “Damn right. You’re not giving me orders twenty-four hours a day.”

      Hank scowled. “You’re a spoiled rich kid, Luke. You can’t handle the work. You can’t handle being a cowboy.”

      Luke got in his face. “If I can handle a war, big brother, I can handle anything you can dish out.”

      “What’s all the shoutin’ about?” Clover stood in the doorway. “I got a cast-iron skillet that can stop this arguing, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

      Hank turned toward the door then swung back. “We’re putting a new fence between us and the Parker place. It’s been down for some time. Do you think you could dredge up enough energy to ride over and tell the Parkers?”

      Several objections popped into his head like red flags, but he didn’t voice them. The mere thought of old Sheriff Parker made him feel eighteen and afraid. It wasn’t a fear of the man himself. It was that he’d proved the man right. Luke wasn’t worthy of his daughter.

      “I’m sure the Parkers can figure out what’s going on without me telling them.”

      “Since the fence has been down, Becky’s kid rides his all-terrain vehicle on our property. If he doesn’t know the fence is up, he’ll fly through there and the barbed wire will rip him to shreds. Is that what you want?”

      Luke clenched his jaw until his head hurt, but Hank took his silence as an affirmative answer. He’d rather do anything than go over to the Parkers’. Becky lived with her father, so she’d be there. A polite phone call would work just as well. Besides, seeing Becky twice in one day was more than his blood pressure could take.

      LUKE KEPT HIS DAD OUT on the ranch, determined he wasn’t going to sit in the house all day. They looked at the young bulls and his dad was excited, taking an interest. After lunch, Luke took him to see the paint horses, his dad’s pet project.

      The horses were kept separate from the cattle operation in their own pasture, corral and barn. Luke stopped the truck, helped his dad out and they walked to the pipe fence.

      A brown-and-white stallion threw up his head and stood on his hind legs. “Cochise needs to be ridden,” Henry said. “It’ll take some of that fire out of him.”

      Cochise pranced along the fence line. The tobiano paint had a white star on his forehead, and showed a marked degree of refinement and beauty in his strong-boned and well-balanced body. Paints were known for their distinctive coat pattern. Cochise’s face, neck, chest, belly and one flank were brown. The rest of his coat was white, including four stocking feet.

      Luke hoped he was seeing the beautiful colors correctly, but he still had a problem distinguishing the hues of reds and greens. It was a minor disability compared to what other soldiers had to deal with.

      And it was a whole lot better than dying.

      Leaning on the fence, he thought it strange that when he looked at Becky, he saw her in brilliant color. Could that be from memory? He quickly brushed the question away.

      He glanced at his dad. “I’ll ask the doctor when you can start riding again.”

      Henry grunted. “Not anytime soon. Can barely use my arm and leg.”

      “That’ll improve, just like your speech has.”

      “Maybe. But I want you to ride Cochise.”

      “Sure. I’ll give him a workout.”

      His dad grew tired and Luke drove him back to the house. Lucy met them at the door.

      “Did you enjoy yourself?” she asked eagerly.

      “Don’t fuss, Lu.” Henry slumped into his chair. “Bring me a cup of coffee.”

      “I’ll get it,” Luke said. His dad had a tendency to bellow orders at his mother and it kept her running all day.

      When he carried the coffee to him, Henry was asleep. Luke set it on the TV tray.

      “He’s just worn-out,” Lucy said.

      “That’s good for him.”

      Lucy suddenly hugged Luke around his waist. A petite woman, her head barely came to his shoulders. “I’m glad you’re home. Henry responds to you. Hank makes him so angry.”

      Luke hugged her back. Except for Becky, he’d missed his mom the most while he’d been away from home. “The past few months have been rough on everyone.”

      “Yes.” Lucy glanced at her husband. “He’s just been so depressed. I was thinking of calling Becky to see if I needed to speak to the doctor about it.”

      “Mom, you don’t have to speak to Becky. Just call the doctor.” It irritated him that she depended on Becky for advice.

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