The Cattleman (Sons of Texas Book 2) (34 page)

Drake’s wife met him at the front door. She was dressed in black slacks and a green T-shirt. Every time Pic saw her, he was struck again by what a beautiful woman his brother had married. And she seemed to be a warm and friendly person. Pic, as well as his dad, wanted to know her better, which was one of the reasons why he had been looking forward to Drake bringing her down to the ranch tomorrow. He would be disappointed if Mom and her friends’ visit somehow threw a kink into that.

Wearing a T-shirt, her swollen belly showed, reminding Pic that in a few months, he would be an uncle. He couldn’t imagine how that would feel or what it would be like to have a baby in the family. He lifted off his cap and brushed cheeks with her. “Hope I’m not intruding, ma’am.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said, smiling. “You’re always welcome. And you don’t have to call me ma’am.” She took his cap and set it on a table in the entry. “Drake’s in his office. You know where it is. Just go back there.”

Pic sauntered up the long hallway to his brother’s office, his boot heels thudding on the hardwood floor. He stepped into the office, looking around. Drake’s home domain wasn’t as large as his office in downtown Fort Worth, but it was bigger than the offices at the ranch. It was brown and tan with dark wooden furniture. One long wall of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Camden Lake. Both a desktop computer and monitor as well as a laptop sat on his expansive desk.

Three flat-screen TVs were mounted on the solid wall to the left of the desk, one streaming video after video of buildings and shopping centers, another broadcasting current news and the third tuned to some financial channel.
All three had been dark when Pic had been in the office previously, but now with all of them on, the room felt alive.

Pic found Drake’s office fascinating. It reminded him just how much Drake was responsible for and how diversified his business was. Pic couldn’t imagine what would cause him personally to need so much electronic information all at one time, though he used his computer
almost every day.

Drake rose from his desk, rounded one end and they man-hugged and back-slapped.

Pic stepped back, grinning. “Hey, man, guess what. There’s a black SUV parked outside by your driveway.”

Chuckling, Drake rested his hands on his hips. He was wearing long shorts and a T-shirt, clothing Pic had rarely seen him wear since high school. In shower shoes, he was a good three inches shorter than Pic in cowboy boots. “What the hell,” he said. “If a Texas Ranger thinks your ass might be in danger, you ought to take him seriously, right?”

“I guess so,” Pic replied, mirroring his brother’s stance. “But those rigs are driving all of us crazy. They’ve put a cramp in Dad’s social life big time. Kate’s, too. All of a sudden she has to be a little more discreet about who she drags home with her.”

“I know y’all take issue with the whole idea,” Drake said. “But we have to tolerate it. Just remember, these guys are the best I could find. Most of them are ex-military and they’re serious about what they do.”

“They look it, too. Mandy thinks they look ominous.”

“We’re counting on the bad guys thinking the same thing. I thought at first they would mostly keep an eye on Shannon and her grandmother, but lately, one of them insists on following me or driving me when I go to Fort Worth or Dallas. I finally decided it’s easier to let them drive me than it is to argue with them.”

Pic shook his head, unable to stop a laugh. “Jeez, Drake. That’s wild. A few years ago, who would’ve thought we’d be doing this? Who would’ve thought I’d be taking classes in self-defense with a gun or carrying when I drive from Drinkwell to Camden?”

Since Blake and Jack had concluded that the whole family was in some kind of danger, Pic, along with his dad and all of his siblings, had taken classes on defending themselves and he was now a better marksman than he had ever been. Shooting in self-defense, he had soon learned, was different from hunting and sport shooting.

“Sign of the times,” Drake said. “It’s taken some getting used to, I admit.”

“It would be nice to know what we’re trying to be secure from, wouldn’t it?”

“I think they’re close to solving it.” Drake said.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Pic gestured toward the moving array on the wall. “What’s all that?”

Drake clicked a remote at the screen that showed buildings. An architect’s rendering of several multi-story buildings came up. “Look at this. This is the new medical facility campus I’ve been telling y’all about. We’re getting ready to move forward.” He grinned.

Pic grinned, too. His brother was in his element. He would never have been content to stay at the Double-Barrel and be a rancher.

Pic and his siblings and parents owned a piece of the new facility. It would house many physicians and services and bring one of the premiere cancer treatment centers to Fort Worth. It would cost hundreds of millions to build. The forecasted return on their respective investments was substantial. That was how it was with everything Drake had anything to do with. Some press person had jokingly called him “The Donald Trump of Texas.” Everybody said he had the Midas touch, but one visit to his offices revealed how much work he put into every project. Blind luck had little to do with his success.

“Looks great,” Pic told him.

“It’s going to be extremely profitable,” Drake said. He touched the drawing that Pic had tucked under his arm. “Whatcha got?”

“Blueprint.”

“Something for me to look at?” He pulled it from under Pic’s arm. “Let’s go into the dining room where we can spread it out.”

Pic had planned to ease into a conversation about the construction of a swimming pool behind the ranch house, but now that Drake had grabbed the drawing, the prospect was out there. Drake wasn’t a guy to beat around the bush.

Carrying the blueprint, Drake led the way to the dining room and a long table. He removed the rubber band that encircled it and unrolled the drawing, using the dining table’s floral centerpiece to anchor one corner. Shannon came from somewhere and fit herself against his side. He looped his arm around her and kissed her temple, then turned his attention back to the drawing, studying it. “This looks like a swimming pool….Behind the garage.…At the ranch?”

Pic shrugged. “Remember last year when I asked you for a designer’s name? This is what I hired him to do. Whaddaya think about it?”

Drake looked up at him, his eyes narrowed. “You’re wanting to build a swimming pool at the ranch? You don’t like water. And you don’t know how to swim. And neither does Dad.”

Pic frowned. “Well, I can learn. So can Dad. Especially if we’ve got a good teacher.”

“What the hell, Pic? What are you not telling?”

In for a penny, in for a pound.
Pic swallowed the knot in his throat and shrugged again. “I was thinking it would make a good wedding present if Mandy and I got married.”

Pic held his breath as a few beats passed. Then Drake’s face broke into a huge grin and he laughed. “
No shit? Y’all decided to get married? It’s about time.”

“I’m thinking about it. Since I’m so busy at the ranch, I can’t get to town that often. I think she’s getting impatient. I guess I’m lucky she’s stuck with me. For sure, it’d be nice if she lived at the ranch and I didn’t have to drive nearly forty miles to town just to see her and spend a little time with her. But I haven’t said anything to her yet.”

“God, Pic, you’re such a dumbass,” Drake said, laughing. “I can’t believe you’re up here talking to me before you’ve talked to her.”

“This is a wonderful idea,” Shannon said,
sliding on glasses, bending forward and looking closely at the drawing. “It’s so romantic. Isn’t she a swimmer?”

“Swims almost every day,” Pic answered. “That’s why I thought asking her to move out of town and live at the ranch might be more appealing if we had a pool.”

“Actually, I think it’s a great idea, Pic,” Drake said, thoughtful. “I don’t know why we didn’t do it before. If we’d had a pool and learned how to swim, maybe we’d have gotten over what happened.”

Drake looked up and Pic stared into his eyes, knowing they were both re-living a memory from childhood when their friend Johnny Mize had drowned. Drake was ten and Pic was eight. Johnny’s mom had taken the three of them to a movie in Camden. On the way home in a torrential rain
that brought on a flash flood, her van drowned out when she tried to cross a low-water bridge over a dry wash. A raging torrent of water caught the van and floated it into the current. All of them somehow escaped and found trees and brush to cling to. Johnny’s mother, hanging on to his hand, lost her grip and Johnny was swept away by the roiling water. In a touch and go situation, Pic, Drake and Johnny’s mother had been rescued by chopper.

From that day forward, Pic had never had a desire to dip his toe in water other than a shower
. Or a bathtub only occasionally. Even now, he had nightmares about drowning.

Not liking the memory, Pic swallowed. “That isn’t the only thing I came up here to talk to you about, Drake.”

To Pic’s relief, Drake switched gears. “We can go into the study.” He released Shannon, re-rolled the drawing, snapped the rubber band around it and handed it to Pic. “This is a good idea, Brother.” He turned to his wife. “Will you excuse us for a little while, sweetheart? Can we use your study?”

“Absolutely,” she said. “I’ll go watch TV with Grammy. Do y’all want a beer or something?”

“No, thanks,” Pic said. “I just finished working out.”

Chapter 21

Pic followed as Drake led the way. He had seen the room they called Shannon’s study from the hallway, but he hadn’t been in it. The cozy space had a nineteenth century look. Two walls were lined with dark wood shelves that sat atop ornately-carved closed-door cabinets. Books filled the shelves. A fragile-looking desk—an antique maybe—stood across the room. Since Shannon had moved out of an old Victorian house, she probably liked antiques and old things.

Besides a soft-looking sofa that had big red flowers all over it, he spotted other feminine touches like the ones Mom used to try to bring to the Double-Barrel ranch house—flowers, candles and doo-dads
. Mom had taken most of that with her when she left and it had never been replaced.

The room reminded him of how it had been to have a woman’s influence in the house
and immediately he felt comfortable. Johnnie Sue and her crew kept the ranch house spotlessly clean, but did nothing toward creating a soft atmosphere. The longer Mom had been gone, the more masculine and utilitarian the Double-Barrel ranch house had become. Pic didn’t know about his dad, but he personally missed a few feminine touches. Instantly, he envisioned all of Mandy’s cute and colorful chicken décor brightening up the stark ranch house kitchen.

Like Drake’s office, one wall of his wife’s study looked out onto the lake. Tonight, a three-quarter moon appeared to be near enough to touch. It cast a long white-gold reflection the width of the lake and distant lights from homes across the water showed in the black night. Drake’s office had the same lake view, but
with so much activity on three TV screens, Pic hadn’t noticed the moon’s beauty. The moonscape and the room’s serene ambience conveyed calm. It seeped into Pic’s psyche. He needed a little tranquility. The day had been a sonofabitch.

Two cushy chairs with fat arms and wide seats sat in front of the two adjoining walls of bookcases and cabinets. A lamp table hunkered between them, light coming from an ornate stand lamp spotlighting it. Drake pointed to the chairs. “Have a seat.”

Pic plopped down, placed the drawing on the floor beside the chair and propped his ankle over the opposite knee. “This is a nice quiet room. I like the feel of it.”

Drake took the adjacent seat. “It’s Shannon’s domain. Her grandmother’s house was full of antiques. She left most of them behind for the museum, but she did bring a few of her favorite pieces here.”

Pic laughed. “I wasn’t talking about the furniture.”

Never one to fail to get straight to the point, Drake asked, “So, what’s going on with you, Brother? What did you want to talk about?”

Pic leaned forward, his forearms braced on his thighs. “I stare at those plans for the swimming pool and think about getting married and my head starts spinning. What would you think about me and Mandy living in the ranch house? Do you think the family would be pissed off?”

Drake opened his hands, his elbows resting on the chair arms. “God, Pic, it isn’t up to them.
Is living there a problem?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never even hinted about bringing someone else into the ranch house to live. Dad likes Mandy and all, but—

“I understand. Talk to him. Feel him out”

“It’s such a big house,” Pic went on. Now he couldn’t stop venting his thoughts aloud for the first time. “Dad and I are lost in it. Already, there are parts of it we never go to. A squatter could be living with us and unless he started robbing the fridge, we wouldn’t know it. If I moved out, leaving Dad there all by himself, he’d be even more lost. But when I think about Mandy moving in, I can’t keep from wondering if some kind of a damn blow-up would happen every time Mom came around.”

“You’re right about the size of that house. If you got married, it seems a waste for you and your wife not to live there. What about Mandy? How would she feel about moving into the ranch house?”