she had to organize something to occupy their time when they weren’t out helping their dad with ranch chores. Once a week, they went someplace the kids had not been to or wanted to visit again—the Tamastslikt Cultural Institute on the reservation, with its exhibits on the history of the American Indians who had lived in the area for centuries, was one. There were picnics, trips to the library, an occasional movie. They built raised beds in the garden and planted vegetables in them. She even started giving the boys cooking lessons.
Caught up in the busiest time of the year on his ranch, Jack wasn’t around much except first thing in the morning and late in the afternoon, just before she left. Once a week or so, she had dinner with the family, reminding her of how strong the attraction to him was. A reminder she kept pushing out of her mind so she could focus on her job and the importance it had for both her and her family.
When the end of July arrived, so did Jack’s nephews. Except for the increase in laundry and the huge amounts of food it took to keep four active boys from being hungry, they were easy to deal with. Each morning, they enthusiastically worked with Jack getting ready for harvest, and they often rode horses with their Aunt Barbara and her boys at Barbara’s ranch where there were enough horses for everyone. They didn’t mind mucking out the stables because, as they told Quanna, it made them feel like real cowboys. Even when Jack’s other three nephews were in Quanna’s charge, which happened a couple times during the visit, it was more pleasure than problem.
The two-week visit seemed to rush by. Before Quanna knew it, she was packing clothes for Daniel and Lucas’s stay in Portland and then hugging all four boys goodbye before they piled into Jack’s truck for a trip to the big city.
• • •
“For chrissake, Jack, light someplace, will you? I have a crick in my neck from trying to follow your pacing, and you’re driving Chihuly nuts.”
Jack dropped into the leather couch opposite the one his brother Sam was occupying. The two men looked so much alike they would have been hard pressed to deny their relationship. Jack had two inches and a few years on his younger sibling, but that was about all that was different.
Well, except for the expressions currently on their faces. Sam looked relaxed and content with himself. Jack was sure he projected neither quality.
Before he responded to his brother’s complaint, Jack motioned for Chihuly, the curly-coated retriever Sam had acquired when he married Amanda St. Clair, to sit beside him. “Sorry. I guess I’m restless today.” He scratched a spot between the dog’s ears, hoping to make up for his pacing.
“No shit, Sherlock. It doesn’t take my finely honed investigative skills to figure that out. What’s going on?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Jack concentrated on the dog’s head, avoiding his brother’s eyes. “I’m not much of a city guy, I guess. I love your house, but I’m happier at the ranch.”
“I get it, but this is more than wanting to be home in the wide open spaces of Umatilla County.” Sam cocked his head and furrowed his brow. “It can’t be money troubles. The last accountant’s report on the ranch looked healthy. Is there something going on with the wheat crop this year?”
Jack shook his head, still not looking at his brother.
“Not money. Not wheat. Haven’t heard of any cattle disease. And your boys are healthy and happy. That leaves woman troubles. You got something you want to talk about?”
Jack had never hid his personal life from his siblings, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be totally open with his brother right now. So he just kept scratching the dog’s head and looking down. “Not really.”
“Jack, I’m a cop. Every damn day of my life, I get lied to or have to put up with people trying to avoid telling me what I want to know. That’s why we’re given this bullshit meter when we
Caught up in the busiest time of the year on his ranch, Jack wasn’t around much except first thing in the morning and late in the afternoon, just before she left. Once a week or so, she had dinner with the family, reminding her of how strong the attraction to him was. A reminder she kept pushing out of her mind so she could focus on her job and the importance it had for both her and her family.
When the end of July arrived, so did Jack’s nephews. Except for the increase in laundry and the huge amounts of food it took to keep four active boys from being hungry, they were easy to deal with. Each morning, they enthusiastically worked with Jack getting ready for harvest, and they often rode horses with their Aunt Barbara and her boys at Barbara’s ranch where there were enough horses for everyone. They didn’t mind mucking out the stables because, as they told Quanna, it made them feel like real cowboys. Even when Jack’s other three nephews were in Quanna’s charge, which happened a couple times during the visit, it was more pleasure than problem.
The two-week visit seemed to rush by. Before Quanna knew it, she was packing clothes for Daniel and Lucas’s stay in Portland and then hugging all four boys goodbye before they piled into Jack’s truck for a trip to the big city.
• • •
“For chrissake, Jack, light someplace, will you? I have a crick in my neck from trying to follow your pacing, and you’re driving Chihuly nuts.”
Jack dropped into the leather couch opposite the one his brother Sam was occupying. The two men looked so much alike they would have been hard pressed to deny their relationship. Jack had two inches and a few years on his younger sibling, but that was about all that was different.
Well, except for the expressions currently on their faces. Sam looked relaxed and content with himself. Jack was sure he projected neither quality.
Before he responded to his brother’s complaint, Jack motioned for Chihuly, the curly-coated retriever Sam had acquired when he married Amanda St. Clair, to sit beside him. “Sorry. I guess I’m restless today.” He scratched a spot between the dog’s ears, hoping to make up for his pacing.
“No shit, Sherlock. It doesn’t take my finely honed investigative skills to figure that out. What’s going on?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Jack concentrated on the dog’s head, avoiding his brother’s eyes. “I’m not much of a city guy, I guess. I love your house, but I’m happier at the ranch.”
“I get it, but this is more than wanting to be home in the wide open spaces of Umatilla County.” Sam cocked his head and furrowed his brow. “It can’t be money troubles. The last accountant’s report on the ranch looked healthy. Is there something going on with the wheat crop this year?”
Jack shook his head, still not looking at his brother.
“Not money. Not wheat. Haven’t heard of any cattle disease. And your boys are healthy and happy. That leaves woman troubles. You got something you want to talk about?”
Jack had never hid his personal life from his siblings, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to be totally open with his brother right now. So he just kept scratching the dog’s head and looking down. “Not really.”
“Jack, I’m a cop. Every damn day of my life, I get lied to or have to put up with people trying to avoid telling me what I want to know. That’s why we’re given this bullshit meter when we
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