“About three weeks—give or take. Cowboy Christmas can stretch clear up until the Days of ’76 Rodeo in Deadwood the end of July.”

“Huh. Hank’s never gone off like this before in the summer, during this . . . what’d you call it? Cowboy Christmas? I wonder what the big deal is now. Why this year?”

Kyle’s ears burned. Hank had volunteered to drag him from rodeo to rodeo because he knew Kyle wouldn’t go alone.

“Don’t mind tellin’ ya, since they bought that new parcel out by Green Bluffs, it’s getting harder for Abe to handle the ranch when Hank ain’t here.”

“Does Hank know that?”

“Abe ain’t exactly the type to run off at the mouth about his feelin’s.”

“No kiddin’. So what’s Abe been doin’ about it instead of talking?”

“Workin’. More workin’. Hell, what else can he do? What can any of us do?”

Growing up within a ranching community, Kyle knew the amount of time, money, and energy it took to run a ranch, even a small one. No days off. No sick days. Livelihood depended on the whims of the weather and the cattle market. His friends had either made the choice to stay on when tragedy struck—like Abe and Hank did after their parents died—or move on—like their friend Max Godfrey, who sold the family land to pursue his love of leatherwork. Or like Bran, raised by his grandparents and living on the ranch that’d been in his family for over a century. Kyle couldn’t count how many times over the years, over many beers, he’d heard his buddies discussing the pressures of the legacy left to them, whether they found it to be daunting, confining, or stimulating.

Bran sighed. “So, Hank said anything to you?”

“Hank is a world-class bullfighter, but he’s a rancher first. He cares more about this piece of Wyoming dirt than he does about hooking horns every weekend.”

“Sorry I said anything. Don’t say nothin’ to him.”

“No worries. Even on the road Hank ain’t any chattier than Abe, believe it or not.”

The porch door banged. They both looked in that direction.

“Who’s she?” Bran asked, keeping his gaze focused on the couple headed toward them.

“Lainie. She’s traveling with us.”

“Ah. It makes perfect sense why Hank’s ready to hit the road and ditch his brother. She’s the woman he’s been goin’ on about the last few months?”

That green-eyed monster reared its ugly head when Kyle realized Hank had talked to Bran about Lainie. Did that mean Hank was more serious about Lainie than he’d let on?

Aren’t you?

Hank kept his arm around Lainie’s shoulders. “Bran. Glad you could help out today.”

“No problem. Abe mentioned he was whipping up a batch of Wyoming jambalaya. Speaking as a bachelor, I’ll do anything not to eat my own cooking.” Bran thrust out his hand to Lainie. “Bran Turner. Friend and neighbor of the Lawsons.”

“Interesting how you threw in the bachelor part of your bio right away,” Hank said sarcastically. “This is Lainie Capshaw.”

Bran cranked the Turner charm to high, kissing Lainie’s knuckles. “I am so pleased to make your acquaintance, lovely Lainie. Are you by any chance related to—”

“Jason Capshaw?” she supplied.

He paused thoughtfully. “No. The Capshaws by Mule Creek Junction.”

“Never heard that one, but I’m afraid I don’t know them.”

“Pity. If you think you might be kin to ’em, I’d be more’n happy to drive you over and introduce you while Hank is off chasin’ his bulls.”

“Quit trying to steal my girl, Bran.” Hank dropped his hands low on Lainie’s hips protectively.

The situation would’ve amused Kyle highly if he hadn’t wanted his arms around Lainie. If he hadn’t been dying to introduce Lainie as his girlfriend. He managed a tight smile. “We gonna do this camper thing or what?”

“We’re waiting on Eli and Max.”

“Really think it’ll take six guys?”

“I can help,” Lainie offered.

“Like hell,” came from three different men.

“But—”

“I’m showing you the chauvinist side Celia referred to, Lainie, by saying no way. We’ve done this before and it’ll go lickety-split if I’m not worried about those magic hands of yours getting crushed,” Hank said.

Lainie didn’t rail or argue like spitfire Celia would have. She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“If we’re waiting on Eli and Max to get here, I need to catch up on some other stuff before we take off tomorrow.” Kyle wandered back inside, pausing when he heard Abe’s angry voice in the kitchen.

“Fuck that, Janie. No way. Why? Because you lost that f**kin’ right when you walked out on me.” Angry footsteps stopped.

Holy shit. Abe was arguing with his ex-wife? Far as Kyle knew, Abe and Janie had severed all contact after the divorce. He hated to interrupt the phone call, but the access to the basement was through the kitchen. Before Kyle booked it downstairs, he saw Abe press his forehead to the sliding glass door in total defeat.

In the guest bedroom, he dumped the contents of his duffel on the floor. Sorted the clothing from the other junk he’d shoved inside the bag. It’d all fit in one load. He stripped to his boxers, gathered the dirty clothes, and trudged to the laundry room.