Page 2 of The Cowboy Fix

“Have a seat in the chair,” Jonas indicated the overstuffed armchair near the hospital bed Nathan had crawled out of that morning. “Do you want a soda?”

“I can get my own soda, Jonas.” Concealing how tired he was from the short walk to the parking area in front of the barn, Nathan followed his brother into the kitchen and pulled a bottle out of the fridge. He held it out to Jonas. “You want one?”

“Thanks.” Jonas took the drink and leaned against the counter.

Closing the fridge with a disgruntled sigh, Nathan sat at the table. “I want to dismantle the hospital bed and return it to the medical supply company this afternoon.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jonas asked, a brief, hard stare pointed in Nathan’s direction before his brother got into the fridge and pulled out the ingredients he needed for the burritos. “Just because Malorie has left, doesn’t mean that you can push yourself too far.”

Leaning back in the chair, his soda left unopened on the table, Nathan crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not. I just think it’s time for things to get back to normal.”

Whatever normal looked like. He hadn’t seen normal for a long time. Maybe not since losing his parents.

And where were his brothers been when he needed them the most during that time? Hell-bent on going to law school, Jonas couldn’t wait to escape the ranch after their mom had died. He’d only hung around that long to help pick up the slack left by their dad’s passing.

And Blake... well so lost in his grief, Nathan hadn’t known what happened to Blake after he was kicked off the ranch by his brothers. Before bringing him back, Jonas had admitted his ignorance too.

Nathan could have been a better brother, except why hadn’t Blake tried to come back after he’d cooled off? Instead, he’d gone on with his life, married, helped raise his young brother-in-law, then lost his wife, all before finally returning to the Triple L at Jonas’s insistence that he take care of the ranch while Nathan was recovering.

As far as he could tell, Blake had never planned to come back, so why did he care so many years later about what happened to their parents’ dream?

He didn’t have to look far for the answer. Blake wanted Timmy to finish growing up on the ranch near family. Nathan couldn’t argue with that. He loved that kid. Grudgingly, he gave his brother points for being a good dad. If he ever had kids of his own, orwhenhe did, he hoped to follow in Blake’s footsteps and be a good father.

What he didn’t want was the tongue-lashing he was about to get that evening. He was the one who’d stayed, the one who did everything he could to preserve their heritage.

It was a sensitive subject, for him anyway.

“Your bedroom’s upstairs. Are you able to go up and back down?” Jonas was a persistent son of a gun.

Past the point of being polite, he cast a side look at Jonas that didn’t invite any more discussion of the matter. “I want to sleep in my own bed.”

All the bedrooms were upstairs, including the primary with an attached bathroom. That was his room. Nathan didn’t care if the stairs became problematic. He would work it out.

The remaining two rooms shared a bath. When Jonas was in town, he stayed in his old room. Blake had decided he and Timmy would continue to stay in the apartment over the barn until he and Malorie got married. That left Blake’s childhood room empty.

“All right,” Jonas agreed with a shrug before focusing on building the burritos. “We’ll get started after lunch.”

Nathan let his breath out in relief. One argument down and a gazillion to go.

They’d finished loading the dismantled bed into their dad’s classic truck when Blake parked beside the baby-blue 1955 Ford pickup that Blake had crashed the night of their mother’s funeral. With the help of the kids, Blake had just finished the restoration.

He pocketed the keys to his Wrangler as he approached. “What are you guys up to?”

“We’re taking the hospital bed back to the medical supply company,” Jonas said, closing the tailgate.

Blake stared at them both. Nathan could imagine what was swirling behind his blank expression. Nathan honestly didn’t care. He was tired. Fatigue was probably written all over his face. And he’d left his cane inside the house, so he had nothing to lean on but his own two feet and pride. He shoved his hands in his back pockets.

Clearly biting his tongue, Blake took a deep breath but didn’t comment, which was good because Nathan was not interested in proving he didn’t need to be coddled.

“Blake can go with you. I have some work to do in the house,” he said, cutting his brother off before Blake lost the fight to keep his opinion to himself and launched into whatever it was he was trying not to say.

“What kind of work?” Blake and Jonas said together.

Nathan turned on his heel and tossed over his shoulder. “Laundry. If that’s okay with you boys.”

He heard them mumble but didn’t try to catch the words. As the engine started, determined not to fall flat on his face, and without looking back, he carefully made his way to the porch, up the stairs, and into the house. He grabbed his cane from where he’d left it just inside the door.

Wouldn’t that be hilarious? Nathan Lohmen, foreman of the Triple L, not even able to get around on his own without tripping and making a complete fool of himself.

---