A nondescript card with a galloping palomino horse remarkably like Dolly fell onto the counter, and she picked it up, curious. A card? He must have been well and truly fried when he wrote all these, because the quaintness of the card was unlike the no-nonsense man it was from. She opened it and a folded piece of paper fell out, but the card was blank.
“Want me to read it?” she asked. “I don’t mind.”
Everyone was silent as she flipped the paper, not unfolding it, just feeling the ominous silence from everyone. She looked at her mother, who was twisting the edge of the blanket she’d brought out for Jake, worriedly biting her lip.
“No,” Jake said firmly, flicking his eyes over to her mother, closing his hand over hers holding the paper. “Read it to yourself.”
Shit. She stuffed the card and letter back into the envelope, and then reached her hand out to her mother, who grasped it with a firmness she’d not felt from her in months. She pulled her mother into a hug, squeezing her gently. Jake had seen her mother’s distress before she had, once again.
“I’m sorry, Mom. Let’s sit down later and read them together, okay?”
“Of course, dear,” her mother replied, her voice tired and strained. Peony quickly picked up her own letter and stuffed it into the pocket of her cardigan.
“Here. Tanner, can you give Brady his when he comes home? I think we all need to read them in private,” Jake stated, and handed Tanner two of the envelopes. Jake had two in his hand—one looked older than the others—and Liz left her mother’s side and went to his, sliding her arm around his waist. He immediately tucked her into his side and bent over to kiss the top of her head.
“I’m going to take some time now to read this alone, if that’s okay?” he asked her quietly.
“Of course. If you need to talk, just come over, I’ll leave the light on and the door unlocked,” she replied, and he squeezed her in thanks.
Tanner tapped the letters against the counter and nodded. “Night check, Liz. Let’s go.”
Liz leaned into Jake a few moments more and kissed him. He held her close, the scent of him echoing into her, and she breathed in as he buried his head into her neck for a moment.
“You okay?” she asked.
“I’m good. If anything, this may answer some big questions for all of us, yeah?” he replied into her neck.
She leaned back a bit, and their eyes met. He smiled and smoothed some of her hair back behind her ear. “Don’t worry too much. I’m sure whatever is in here doesn’t change anything,” he rumbled, and kissed her gently.
Her heart skipped a beat as he let her go. They were alone in the kitchen. Tanner impatiently cleared his throat from the back mud porch, so she reluctantly headed that way as Jake picked up the crocheted blanket and tucked it under his arm.
“Come over if you need me, Jake, I mean it,” she said, and he stopped, eyes swiveling to her.
“You already know I do,” he said, his voice rough, and then walked out of the room.
She stood a moment more, the words echoing in her head, the implied meaning of them clear.
“I need you too,” she whispered, and moved to follow Tanner out the door.
Chapter Thirty-six
Jake,
By now, hopefully you’re on the ranch and know about your brothers, are owner of your birthright as the eldest of my sons, and have busted into my private study and found the safe. If not, then my wishes were not followed and whatever the situation is, I hope you are at least reading this on West Line soil.
I don’t know what to say to you or write to you, but I’ll try. For an old man, addled as I am in the head, it doesn’t come easy now.
I’ve never known you as an adult, only held you in my arms as a baby, watched you waddle around in the garden as a tiny boy, and set you on your first horse when you were only as high as my knee. For days all you wanted was to climb back up on that mare, screaming “Dolly! Dolly!” whenever your mother would bring you down to the barn to see us. She never got on with horses despite my cajoling; it was a rare thing when she came to watch us men ride.
You were my pride and joy, my firstborn son, and I was never so full of hope for the future of our home.
But Heather took you from me before I could teach you to be a man. Before I could teach you right from wrong, to read the land, or master a rope. I looked for you for a long time, and I didn’t find you until now. She hid you from everyone in our families, disappeared without a trace.
You weren’t named Jake when you were born. We named you Henry, after my father, Henry Michael. But your mother registered your birth certificate without me knowing, and you were only ever Jacob Christopher West, hence why I couldn’t find you easily, and even then, you never went by your full name. At least she kept your last name the same.
I’m sorry I was never there. I don’t know what your life was like, what hardships you endured or didn’t. My investigator says you have become a successful man, well-off, live in nice places, and are well liked. You are a businessman like me, and that is solace I can take with me when I go. I read the article inThe New Yorkerabout you, from a few years ago. My investigator forwarded it to me. It was how we found you, because you looked just like me.
I would never have expected one of my sons to become a master chef. I’m proud of you nonetheless, because a West always does their best at whatever they do, no exceptions. I just hope you know how to properly cook beef.
