2. Ryland

TWO

RYLAND

“What’s cookin’, good lookin’?” I turn my head toward where Mom is standing. I’m watching the herd of cattle file in; we’re rotating them from the north pasture down to the south. The weather is going to be brutal this winter. Where we’re moving them provides more shelter, more water, and is easier for us to get to should something happen.

“You’re a real smooth talker, Ryland Thomas Johnson.” I crack a smile at her. She’s not fooling anyone. All of her boys have her husband in them, our father. We grew up in a home where love shined brightly. The two of them would dance in the kitchen, stay up late discussing bills at the dining room table, and even the times when they’d have an argument, we always felt the love, no matter what. One time, Mom said they should take their discussion to the bedroom and away from our ears, but Dad stayed firm in his stance, stating their boys needed to see the good and the bad. He wanted us to see that there would be good times and bad times. For better or worse, you work through the problems and make it out on the other side.

“I get it honestly.” I look over at my mom. She’s done a lot and been through a lot. Being a rancher and a rancher’s wife, along with having six boys, isn’t for the faint of heart. We didn’t get our namesake the Rowdy Johnson Brothers for nothing. Each of us had our wild days. More often than not, a fight would ensue down at the bar where someone would run their mouth, one of us would go off half-cocked, and the sheriff would break it up. More times than not, a brother would be too drunk to drive, so our choice would be to call someone to pick us up or spend the night in jail. We’d make the call, waking up Dad if we couldn’t get ahold of someone else at the ranch, and considering we brothers hung out together, got in trouble together, and drank together, Dad would be the one to pick our asses up.

“That you do. Ever think about using that charm of yours on a certain waitress?” Mom cuts right to the chase. She may as well have gone for the jugular. I’ve kept away from Down Home Diner and everything Sutton Rawlins; I refuse to use the last name of that asshole she’s tied to.

“Nope, not going there, Ma,” I reply. Not only will nothing come of this conversation, all it will do is make my blood fucking boil. I’ll want to get in my truck, storm up her walkway, bang the door down, and then my fist would meet Shane Sullivan’s face. He’d no doubt press charges, then Dad would have to bail me out, and all for what? A woman who is attached to a cock-sucking, good-for-nothing, wanna-be man.

“I’m not sure why not. It’s apparent by the new coat she’s wearing. Admit it, you somewhat care for her. Though, she could use a pair of shoes.”

“Can’t buy something I don’t know the size to. Guessed on the jacket.” I didn’t, not really. Sutton is so damn tiny now, tinier than she was in high school, making it plain as day the size she needed.

“True. I wish she’d let me in more. A part of me thinks she’s embarrassed. I warned her about Shane, or tried to. It’s hard when you’re walking a fine line,” Mom responds. The only fine line I’ve got is one between love and hate. Sutton shouldn’t be tied down to a man like her husband.

She should be with a man like me.

I shake my head free of the notion. Nope. I’m not going there. Keeping that subject firmly closed. I’ve got enough on my plate, and it seems she may as well. We would go together like oil and water.

“You can only do so much, Mom. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” I nudge her shoulder with mine before placing my arm around her, giving her a side hug of sorts.

“Yeah, sure, easier said than done. Every time I see Sutton, all I want to do is take her in my arms and hold her like Taylor would do. Except I can’t.” There’s worry in her tone. Hell, I’ve felt the same damn way. It’s why I’ve stayed away from her. She’s not mine to protect. Not yet at least.

“You’ll get her there. Thinkin’ Sutton’s about done with whatever she has going on. And if not, well, I’ll wade in, if need be.” She isn’t going to like it one bit. Sutton will be pissed at me, but I’ll be damned if she goes without basic necessities.

“You’re a good man, Ryland. Don’t forget it, either.” Mom pats my chest, then pulls away, and that’s when my boy comes barreling at us.

“I see Sutty today, Daddy.” I arch an eyebrow at my mom. She shrugs her shoulders and acts like she didn’t sugar my kid up after school. Again.

“You did, did you? And how is Miss Sutton today?” I don’t bother asking what he had for an afternoon dessert. Case is wearing most of it. Looks like a menagerie of chocolate and ketchup, quite the concoction my boy likes.

“She good. Told me I’m ggg-growin’ too much!” His speech has come a long way, and we’ve found if we have patience with Case, it’s much better. He doesn’t get flustered, and, in the end, he gets the hang of it.

“That’s because you are. Can barely keep your britches up. Going to need suspenders before too long.” Case hugs my leg. My hand goes to his back, holding him to me. I don’t care that my clothes will look more like his and less like I’ve been out with the animals. The way things are going, Case will never be the kid who donates hand-me-downs with how much wear and tear he puts his clothes through.

“Then you’ll look like Paw,” Mom states.

I tilt my head toward Case. His blue eyes look back at me, a mirror image. Damn, it’s like looking at my twin at my son’s age.

“Dad, Maw, I get sus..sus..penders like Paw?”

“Next time we’re in town, we’ll get you some.” Case is tall for his age. With that comes a narrow waist, and since he’s not a grown man, well, that means what fits in his legs doesn’t elsewhere.

“Kay, we see Sutty, too?” I look from Case to my mom. She lifts her lips in a small smile. Every last one of my family members, and even some extended, seems to be in their matchmaking phase. Mom isn’t fooling anyone, that’s for damn sure.

“Yeah, we’ll go see Sutton. We’ll have a full meal, not just fries and dessert.” Case backs away, arms going across his chest, and he’s starting to blow a puff of air. I arch an eyebrow in his direction, letting him know I’m not backing down. I choose my battles, and this is a hill I’ll die on. Love my boy with everything I’ve got, but the last thing I’m going to let slide is him copping an attitude. Especially since he’s gone from eating anything and everything to becoming Mister freaking Picky Pants.

“No, no, no,” he starts.

“Case, my man. What are you doing out here, and not out with us, riding horses?” Trey comes in at the right moment.

“Uncle Tree, I ride with you.” Case could never say his name correctly, and what he calls him now has stuck.

“As long as your daddy is okay with it, you sure can.” Trey looks from me to Mom. I nod, and Case must take notice, because just as quickly, he’s up and climbing each rung of the fence until he balances at the top. My boy may struggle with his words, but that’s the only thing attempting to hold him. Other than that, he’s all boy, getting closer to kindergarten every damn day.

“Thanks, Daddy!”

“You’re welcome. Be good for your uncle.” I don’t bother tacking on he needs to be home for supper early with it being a school night. My brothers know their nephew’s schedule as well as me.

“Well, since you promised Case dinner in town, I’ll make sure to get the size of Sutton’s sneakers, and you can drop them off with her?” Mom’s face says it all. There’s no way I’ll get out of this errand. She won’t take no for an answer.

“Or you could take her shopping,” I try to divert the conversation away from me stopping at the house she shares with Shane.

“I wish. I’ve tried that many times now. She makes excuse after excuse. I’ll do some nosing around, then you’ll take care of the rest.” Mom squeezes my arm in reassurance, for her sake or mine, I’ll never know. I should have known once she sank her teeth into an idea, there was no changing her mind.

“Fine,” I agree, begrudgingly. She doesn’t respond, instead gives me one of her smiles and heads back up to the house. I shake my head. I’ve been had. Plain and simple.