Chapter Eleven
“Un-freaking-believable.” Micah stomped away with his heart in his throat, ignoring the calls from both Tucker and AJ. Not only was Tucker keeping secrets, he was trying to use his money to get his way. Micah couldn’t decide what hurt most. Tucker had promised to keep Micah informed and swore he wasn’t trying to take over. Tucker had always treated Micah like a kid, making the decisions without Micah’s input. Just like the night Tucker left.
Micah jerked the back door open and let the screen slam behind him. Why had he thought things had changed? Because they’d fucked? That’s clearly all it was to Tucker. Micah snorted at himself. It hurt to think the relationship they had the past few days, the closeness, was all a lie. When was Micah going to learn? Heat surged up his neck and face. Not only was Tucker treating him like a mindless idiot, he was doing exactly what Micah’s mother’s family had done. Duncan may be an ass, and hell maybe he’d take the money and be happy, but it hurt to think Tucker was trying to throw money around to get what he wanted. It just seemed wrong. If Ferguson really wanted things to go to Duncan, then who were they to change that?
Micah stepped into the kitchen and locked gazes with Duncan.
“Well, well, if it isn’t the newlywed faggot.” Duncan took a drink from his coffee mug and set it on the table in front of him.
Fury washed over Micah like a tidal wave. “Fuck you, you son of a bitch. I’ve had enough of your mouth.” He didn’t even think, he just walked right over to Duncan and picked him up by the front of his shirt.
“Ah shit.” The door slammed, boots pounded on the tile floor, then Tucker’s arms wound around Micah’s waist.
“Let go, you queer.” Duncan batted at Micah’s hands and shoved at him, trying to get him off. It shouldn’t have been hard, Micah was quite a bit smaller than Duncan, but Micah was beyond pissed. He’d had enough of Duncan Delany to last him a lifetime. Micah hauled back his fist, ready to belt Duncan a good one, and his elbow connected with skin.
“Goddamn it.” The hold on Micah’s waist vanished, followed by muffled cursing.
Micah didn’t take the time to look back at Tucker. He let his fist fly, catching Duncan right square in the nose. The sickening thwack and the spray of blood was like fuel to the fire. The son of a bitch had called Micah names and threatened him for the last time. He shoved Duncan away from him, pleased as can be when Duncan tripped over his chair and landed on his ass with a thud that rattled the table and chairs. Reaching for Duncan again, Micah was brought up short by Tucker grabbing him and pinning his arms to his sides. “Let me go!”
Eyes wide, Duncan scrambled up, clutching his nose. Blood poured over his hand and his eyes narrowed. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer. I intend to contest the will. There’s no way I’m letting the ranch go to a couple of fags.” He turned and stormed out of the kitchen.
“Fuck you.” Rage boiled in Micah and he struggled to get loose of Tucker’s grasp. His glasses fell off, clattering to the ground. “Let me go, Tucker.” Micah struggled and fought, wanting to rip Duncan to pieces, but Tucker retained his grip. If Micah got out of the hold, he was gonna beat Tucker’s ass too. Sweat dripped down his forehead, making him blink to keep from slinging it in his eyes. His whole body was like an inferno, hot and ready to explode, but Tucker held firm, not even fazed by Micah’s struggles.
“Stop it. Goddamn it, Micah. Be still.”
That pissed Micah off even more, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get loose. Finally, when he was panting for breath and his limbs were exhausted, he sagged in Tucker’s arms. Micah was tired and he wanted to destroy something. Everything had gone to shit. Damn Duncan. Damn Tucker. And damn Ferguson for dying.
Tucker loosed his grip but didn’t let go. He brushed Micah’s sweaty hair off his forehead and pushed his head back onto Tucker’s shoulder. “It’s okay, baby.”
Tears welled up in Micah’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. No, it wasn’t okay. It would never be okay again. With one last heave he shoved out of Tucker’s arms and stomped up the stairs to his room.
Tucker was hot on his heels, clearing the door only seconds behind Micah. “Micah…”
“What?” Micah snapped.
“
What?
Are you fucking kidding me?” Tucker slammed the door shut and glared. “Why in the hell did you do that? Now he’s going to contest the will for sure, just to get back at you. And I’ll be surprised if the asshole doesn’t press assault charges.”
“Good. Let him file charges. I don’t give a shit anymore.”
“Look, you’re right the asshole was asking for it, but I’d just assume you not be in jail.” Striding past Micah, Tucker crossed to the window, opened the curtain and looked out.
The fight went right out of Micah and he flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. He didn’t want to mess things up for his family, but he wanted to uphold Ferguson’s wishes. The courts weren’t the way to do that, and neither was flaunting the almighty dollar. Slapping his hand against the mattress once, Micah let his arm fall back to his side. He just felt so damn helpless. “Do you think Duncan will be able to contest the will and get the ranch? Did my punching him hurt our chances of keeping The Bar D?” Micah struggled to hold in his tears. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit him.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m not going to let him take The Bar D.”
Yeah, that was what Micah was afraid Tucker would say. Logically, Micah knew Tucker was right. Duncan wasn’t the innocent party. Jeff deserved The Bar D. He’d worked it and devoted his life to it. Ferguson wouldn’t do this to them, which was why the will had been worded the way it was, but why didn’t he protect all of them? Surely, he’d known the will could be contested. Or could it? Micah didn’t know. “Have you talked to your lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“And?” Micah closed his eyes against the tears.
“Duncan can contest it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? What happened to keeping me in the loop? Don’t I mean enough to you for you to tell me the truth?”
“What?” Tucker’s footsteps came closer until he was peering down at Micah. “Is that what this is about? You’re pissed because I was trying to protect you?”
Meeting Tucker’s gaze, Micah sat up. “You’re treating me like a child.”
“I’m treating you like someone who had a bleeding ulcer from stress.” Tucker put his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes.
The anger that had been fading was now flaring to life again. Micah stood, forcing Tucker to step back. Micah’s chest hurt like someone had stabbed him in it. He couldn’t draw a deep breath. The truth of the situation hit him like a brick upside the head. “You never meant to let me help. You’d always intended to take over and do things your way all along. I’m just a convenient husband to you.”
“Micah, that’s not tr—”
Shoving past Tucker and knocking their shoulders together, Micah hurried for the door with tears blurring his vision. He couldn’t stay here. Tucker was back where he belonged, but there was no longer a place here for Micah. Without turning around, he opened the door. “You win. You no longer have to worry about me being in the way.”
Chapter Twelve
Micah made it as far as the porch before he realized that he didn’t even have his truck. “
¡Chingada Madre!
” He shut the door and started around the back of the wraparound porch. For several moments he just stood there, unsure what to do. Leaving tonight obviously wasn’t an option. Perhaps a ride on Waldo would do him some good until he could figure out what he wanted. No way in hell was he going back inside.
As Micah got to the side of the porch, Duncan’s angry voice brought him up short. “Why should I?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do. You don’t want the ranch. You’re just being an ass. The Bar D is Jeff’s home. This is all he has, Duncan.” Juan sounded exasperated, like he was explaining something to an idiot. Micah remembered that tone well. Juan had used it on him a time or two during Micah’s youth.
Micah stayed where he was. The scent of cigarette smoke drifted toward him, making him wrinkle his nose, but he stayed quiet. He probably shouldn’t eavesdrop, but Micah didn’t think making his presence known was too good of an idea either, considering his and Duncan’s last encounter. Duncan was a volatile son of a bitch. What if he started some shit with
Tio
?
“But it should be mine, I’m the oldest. The ranch is my birthright.”
Good Lord, Duncan was a pompous jerk. Micah snorted. How could Duncan possibly think that, given how he left the ranch and his family? Forcing himself to un-fist his hands, Micah took a deep breath and leaned against the porch rail. He stayed on the side of the house and out of sight, but ready in case his uncle needed him.
“Bullshit! Your daddy didn’t owe you a damn thing. He gave you everything you ever wanted and would’ve continued to do so. You’re the one who screwed that up by leaving here with Vanessa. Drop it, Duncan. Please.” The pitch of his uncle’s voice was…unusual. The anger had faded to more of a softer, pleading timbre.
Micah nearly gasped when he realized what that tone meant. Juan cared for Duncan. How had Micah not seen that? It made sense.
Tio
had known Duncan since he was a baby. Come to think on it, Duncan didn’t sound like himself either. He didn’t sound condescending. He sounded as though he was having an honest discussion with someone he knew…an old friend.
“No. You know I respect you, Juan. But I want The Bar D. I need—”
“You aren’t Ferguson’s child.”
What?
This had the potential to be ugly.
Micah’s muscles bunched in anticipation, and he pushed away from the rail, certain there would be trouble.
“What? What’d you say?” Duncan’s voice rose with each word.
Micah hurried around the corner in time to see Duncan slump against the porch newel post. He shook his head, not even looking at
Tio
. “That’s not true. You lie, Juan. You—”
“You know better than that, boy. I’ve never lied to you and I’m not now. Ferguson never wanted you to know. He loved you like his own. I didn’t want to tell you, but I’ll be damned if I let you torment your brother.”
Tio
sat on the porch rail with a cigarette in hand and a bottle of beer on the railing. He turned his head and met Micah’s gaze.
Duncan didn’t seem to notice Micah, just shook his head and looked away out toward the pasture. “That’s a lie. My dad—” The protest went right out of Duncan. “Why didn’t he tell me?” His shoulders sank and he looked defeated. Micah actually felt sorry for him.
“Because there was no need for you to know until you started threatening to take the ranch from your brother.”
“Why? How, Juan? Tell me. Please.”
“Rita was pregnant with you when Ferguson married her. Her daddy was a mean sumbitch. If he’d found out she got pregnant by some drifter, he would’ve beat that girl black and blue. Ferguson married her to protect her and you. She was a good woman and she made a hell of a wife. A more understanding woman I’ve never met.” Juan took a drink of his beer and looked back at Duncan. “He didn’t want you to know. He loved you. To him you were his son. I shouldn’t have told you, but I’ll damn sure tell everyone before I let you screw over your brother. Never understood you. You’ve been acting like a horse’s ass too long, Duncan. It’s time to knock that shit out. It’s what your daddy wanted. He wanted you to come back and make amends.”
Duncan sat on the railing. “What about Jeff? Is he…?”
“Jeff? Oh, you mean is he Ferguson’s son? Yeah, Jeffery is Ferguson’s natural son.”
Glancing up, Duncan spotted Micah. His eyes grew wide and he hopped to his feet. “What do you want?” he snarled, but his heart just didn’t seem to be in it.
Micah shrugged. It was on the tip of his tongue to say something cutting, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He knew all too well what it was like not to have family. It was obviously a big blow to Duncan to find out the man who he’d thought was his father wasn’t. “Nothing. I was going to go for a ride and I heard y’all talking.” Micah glanced at his uncle then back to Duncan.
Duncan nodded. “Go ahead and gloat.” He sat back on the rail. Tears streamed down his cheeks.
Shaking his head, Micah swallowed the lump in his throat. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“I would.” Duncan snorted. “If it were you, I’d gloat.”
“I’m not like you. I’m sorry you had to learn the truth.” And he was, but he also wanted to know if Duncan really believed
Tio
and if he was going to continue to contest the will. Micah didn’t dare ask though. It just didn’t seem like the right time to bring it up. Duncan seemed to be hurting. He may not have any compassion, but Micah did.
Standing, Duncan wiped away the tears on his cheeks. He reached out to Juan. “I’m sorry, Juan. I won’t make any more trouble, I just— Never mind.” He turned to go down the steps then stopped and looked at Juan.
Tio
set his beer and cigarette down and walked toward Duncan. He held his arms out and just like that Duncan walked into them. He hugged Juan and rested his tear-streaked face on Juan’s shoulder for several seconds.
Juan patted Duncan’s back. “It’s our secret. No sense in everyone knowing.”
Nodding, Duncan stepped back. He shot one last glance at Micah, then walked toward his car.
Sitting back down on the rail, Juan waved as Duncan drove away. He sat there quietly for several minutes. “What brings you out here,
mijo
?”
Shrugging, Micah extracted the bottle from his uncle and took a drink before handing it back. His chest sank at what he’d just learned. How was it possible for him to actually feel bad for Duncan? Duncan was such a shit. Micah felt…numb.
Tio
frowned, and almost as an afterthought added, “And no more beer. Ain’t good for your ulcer.”
Micah groaned. “You sound like Tucker.”
“Tucker always was a smart one. Now give it up. What has you out here instead of spending time with your husband?”
Should he tell his uncle? Sighing, Micah looked away. He didn’t want to sound like some pathetic lovesick fool. “Was all that true? You know, about Duncan not being Ferguson’s son?”
“Of course it’s true.”
Tio
sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. “I don’t want you saying anything to the others.”
“I won’t.” Micah didn’t figure it was his place. “You think he really believed you?”
“He knows I wouldn’t lie to him and I don’t think he’ll cause any more problems.”
“I hope you’re right.” Micah sent up a silent prayer that his
tio
was correct about Duncan not causing more complications.
“I’m right. Now, tell me why you’re out here at this time a night. I ’magine it’s about Tucker. It usually is where you’re concerned.”
Shock washed over Micah and he gazed up at his
tio
. “What makes you say that?”
“Because I know you. You’ve been in love with Tucker since the day I brought you home.” Juan took a drink of his beer.
Smiling, Micah shook his head. “I have not.”
“Well fine, since a month after I brought you here. What about Tucker has you so upset? You’re married. I thought that was a good thing.”
“He lied to me.” Micah closed his eyes. Damn, it hurt to even say it. “He’s still treating me like a damn kid. Like I’m in the way.”
“You sure about that?”
“What do you mean?”
“He seems to have a lot of respect for your opinion. People don’t ask kids what to do to make a ranch profitable again. Million dollar decisions aren’t usually left in the hands of kids.” Taking a puff from his smoke, Juan exhaled. “Tucker’s a businessman, he’s not an idiot.”
“But he promised to tell me what his lawyer said about—” Oh no. No one knew that Micah had gotten a copy of the will beforehand.
“The will. Yes, go on.”
“But how did—?” Micah asked.
Tio
had told Micah where to look. “You knew. You knew I’d take it to Tucker.”
“I hoped. I knew you’d ask him for help eventually with the ranch. Only a moron would let his home rot because of pride. You’re no moron,
mijo
.”
“But how’d you know it’d be me who asked for Tucker’s help?” If Micah hadn’t been sitting, he was certain his legs would have given out.
“You’re the one handling the money. Figured you know better than anyone how bad things had gotten. I thought the will might speed things up though.”
Tio
grinned again. “Glad they did. Listen, and listen carefully. Life’s too short to waste,
perrito
. Don’t let a misunderstanding get in the way of your heart’s desire. Love isn’t always easy, but it’s worth it.” His voice wavered again and he turned his head away, like there was something interesting out in the pasture.
Micah looked toward the field. There was nothing there. “You’re too much,
Tio
. I thought cowboys were supposed to be anti-gay. Shouldn’t you be damning me to hell and all that good stuff?”
Tio
chuckled, but it sounded rusty, not his usual merry self. “I’m no hypocrite,
mijo
. ’Sides, I love you. I want you to be happy.”
Hypocrite?
Micah nearly fell off the rail. Why hadn’t he seen it before? What foreman slept in the main house with a connecting bathroom to the master suite? His uncle and Ferguson had been lovers. “Well, I’ll be damned. Did his wife know?” It made perfect sense now that he thought about it.
“’Course she did. She was a good woman. Why do you think the bed in my room is bigger than the one in the master bedroom? Only time she ever shared his bed was to get us Jeffery.”
Oh, damn.
Tio
must hurt worse than anyone. Micah couldn’t imagine what he’d feel like if something happened to Tucker. Even Tucker being gone wasn’t so bad, not compared to death. If Tucker died… It felt like Micah had swallowed glass, and his heart hurt.
Micah shook his head, trying to get rid of the thought of Tucker dying. “I guess this means I shouldn’t set you up with Mrs. Higgins.”
“Good Lord, boy, she must be eighty!”
They both snickered, then fell silent for several moments.
“He should’ve told me what he’d found out about Duncan and the will,” Micah whispered. “He’s just taken over like I’m not even a part of the family.”
“Did you ever consider he was trying to keep from getting you worked up? You have an ulcer, son. You’ve enough stress to deal with. You and your damnable Latin temperament. Nothing you do is halfway. It’s full tilt or not at all. What would it have done for him to tell you? You’d have just worried on it. Or maybe I should say, you’d have worried even more than you already were.”
Micah’s shoulders slumped. His
tio
was right. Tucker had let him help with the ranch business. Tucker had as much as said he was protecting Micah. How could Micah get it across to Tucker that he didn’t need protecting?
“Before you say it…it’s a natural thing. We all try to protect those we love.”
Good grief, now
Tio
was a mind reader. “How do you do that? It’s weird.”
Tio
shrugged. “I’ve been where you are now. And I know you. Didn’t raise you without learning a few things about you.”
Tears sprang to Micah’s eyes and he sniffed them back. He should thank his mother’s family for what they did. Otherwise he’d have never had what his uncle gave him. “I love you,
Tio
.”
“I love you too,
mijo
, but I’m not the person you need to be telling that to right now.”
All the wind rushed from Micah’s sails again. “I don’t even know if he’s staying.”
The porch door opened and slammed shut. “He’s staying and he’s sorry.” Tucker’s voice was a little shaky.
Turning a startled glance to Tucker, Micah froze, not believing he’d heard right. How long had Tucker been there? What had he heard? Micah’s throat closed up, refusing to allow air in. Uncertainty rose within him. He’d been set to leave, at least until Tucker was gone, but—
Could it really be this easy?