Read Online The Rancher's Second Chance (Martin's Crossing Book 3) by Brenda Minton - Free Book Online

other day. It’s sitting there empty, and she’s worried it’ll get vandalized.”
    “I have a place.”
    “I know you do. But it isn’t big and it isn’t...”
    “It’s fine.” He pulled off the gloves. “I’ll see you at church tomorrow. I’ve got work to get done at my place.”
    “Not so quick,” Jake said as he put a hand out to stop him from walking away.
    Brody shook his head. He should have stayed in bed. “What?”
    Duke walked into the barn holding a manila envelope in his hand. He wasn’t smiling. “We have something to discuss.”
    “Great.” Brody sat down on a bale of hay. “I really don’t want to talk. The two of you are going to have to realize I’m not a kid. Worry about your women, your children and your businesses, and let me worry about my life, my health and my future.”
    Jake sat down next to him. The sun was streaming in through the open barn door and a momma cat joined them, stretching out in a sunny spot on the floor to watch birds in the rafters. Brody pulled off his gloves and waited.
    “We’re family, Brody,” Jake started with what Brody thought was the obvious. “We raised each other. We survived together. That isn’t something we can undo just to make you more comfortable with your need for privacy.”
    “Right, I get that. But for now give me space.”
    Duke tossed the manila envelope at him. Brody caught it.
    “Open it,” Duke ordered.
    Brody hesitated, then lifted the flap and pulled out the papers. He read over the information. Looked at the pictures attached. And then he shoved it all back inside the envelope.
    “Well, I guess that’s good to know,” he said, smiling at both brothers.
    Duke leaned against the wall. “You wanted to know, and I thought it was time.”
    “Right, okay. Thanks. I think I’ll walk back to my place. I’m going to work on that fence today so it’ll hold horses come spring.”
    Jake stood when Brody stood. “I can give you a ride.”
    “I can walk. I learned how about twenty-six years ago. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want explanations. I’ll see you at church tomorrow.”
    They let him walk away.
    The problem was that he didn’t really want to. He wanted to ask questions. He wanted to know how they felt about the information in that manila envelope. Since he’d taken the first step, though, he kept going.
    He went home and built the fence. And he considered how it would feel to give riding lessons to foster children in the area. He’d learned at an early age that horses could keep a kid grounded, keep them focused on something other than pain and anger. He wanted to do that for children who might not have the opportunity otherwise.
    The last thing he wanted to think about was that manila envelope on the counter in his trailer. He kept working, stretching barbed wire from post to post, one strand at a time. The work kept him focused. The pain in his hands took his mind off all the questions he’d like to ask but might never get answers to.
    By late afternoon he was worn out. He barely made it up the front steps of the trailer, ready for a glass of tea and a sandwich. As he headed for the fridge, he ignored the envelope. He wouldn’t look at it again. He wouldn’t think about that day when Sylvia Martin had headed down the drive in her old Buick. His brothers had held him as he’d cried and fought them, wanting to go after her.
    Their dad had been at a livestock auction somewhere and hadn’t known until he’d returned home late that night. By then she’d been long gone.
    Brody took out the bread and tossed two slices on a plate. The only thing in his fridge that didn’t smell sour was a package of bologna. He had some not-too-stale chips to go with it and a few pickles.
    The phone he’d tossed on the counter buzzed and vibrated across the avocado-green Formica. He took a sip of sweet tea and glanced at the contact name. Grace. He tried to continue making his sandwich, but he couldn’t ignore the call. What