Long Way Home. Gena Dalton

      Guilt stabbed him. He had hurt her enough to drive her straight into the arms of another man.

      He must put the past out of his mind and deal with Jo Lena here in the present. Or not deal with her. He needed to get himself together and just ignore her. Avoid her.

      His old room surrounded him peacefully. He sat down on the chair at the side of the bed, kicked the bootjack out from under it and stuck one heel into it, pulling carefully. Boots finally off, he began to peel the dirty clothes from his battered body, focusing on keeping his mind blank and all regrets and memories at bay.

      This physical pain was enough to keep him busy. He had no need to dwell on his emotional hurts, too.

      He levered himself up and went straight into the shower, standing for a long time in the tingling sluice of hot water, letting it relax some of his muscles and wash some of the ache out of his back. Soaping every inch he could reach without yelling in pain, shampooing his thick hair and rinsing took a long, blank time, and he was thankful for it.

      Finally, he made himself shut off the water, step out and towel off. Cleaning up had made him feel a lot stronger.

      And it actually made him smile to find that he still fit into his old, battered Wrangler jeans. He put on the most worn pair because they were the softest, and then, after clean socks and boots, his favorite, faded T-shirt he’d bought long ago when Billy Joe Shaver had played Gruene Hall and he and all three of his brothers had gone to hear him together.

      Long ago and far away.

      That opening line from one of the songs they’d heard started running through his head. Yes, that night seemed decades ago and thousands of miles away. But today it was now and he was here. On the Rocking M. Back home.

      He had to go downstairs and face them—all but John, who was gone forever. John wouldn’t be mad at him for not going to his funeral. John would take up for Monte if he were here this morning, even if they had been on opposite sides of the religion question.

      He walked to the window and looked out over the ranch. John had been closer to him than to the others because for so long they’d been the young ones, bossed around by the big brothers. They’d staged their little rebellions, though.

      Monte grinned to himself. Thinking about John was driving away that shaky feeling inside him. He could hold his own with Clint and Jackson.

      But then, while he walked carefully down the stairs and through the entry hall and the great room, he wasn’t so sure of that. He just needed peace. And time alone. And an empty head.

      And an empty heart. He didn’t want to look at Jo Lena and see the girl he used to know and the woman he might never know all rolled up into one magnificent package that made his heart skip a beat.

      She was the first thing that met his eye, though, when he crossed the threshold into the dining room. Jo Lena. And the rest of the women and babies. It didn’t even seem like home, there were so many women and babies.

      None of them belonged to him.

      It was as unsettling as walking into a whole herd of unpredictable bulls to try to find his place at the table. There was a baby in a high chair on one side and Lily Rae on the other. His father and John were gone. Their absences screamed at him.

      “Monte,” Lily Rae called, the minute she saw him. “I want to sit by Monte.”

      Monte’s jaw tightened. He ignored her.

      Jackson looked up, saw him and they limped toward each other to shake hands.

      “Looks like you’re about as bunged up as I am,” Jackson said. “That must’ve been a whale of an argument you had with that bull.”

      “Ah, but you oughtta see the shape he’s in,” Monte said, and everyone laughed.

      He felt himself relax a little as Jackson introduced him to his wife, Darcy, and Maegan, their curly-haired, red-headed baby girl with wide blue eyes the very color of Jackson’s. Then Delia and LydaAnn were hugging him.

      “Careful, girls, careful. Remember he’s hurt,” Bobbie Ann said, coming in from the kitchen with a big pan full of hot biscuits.

      His sisters were careful with him. And they were telling him they were glad he was home.

      But, as they let him go, they gave him looks that let him know they were pretty put-out with him for taking so long to get home. That was all right. They were truly glad to see him, even if they were probably going to give him a piece of their minds later on.

      “Monte,” Lily Rae said again. “I want to sit by Monte.”

      Bobbie Ann jumped right in, spoiling her rotten.

      “Of course you can sit by Monte,” she said, as she waited for Jo Lena to move one of the gravy bowls and a platter of sausage to make a place for the biscuits.

      She looked up at Monte, her blue eyes sparkling with happiness.

      “Son, will you sit at the end of the table? You’ve made a new young fan this morning.”

      “Monte’s my big brother,” Lily Rae, beaming, announced to the world in general.

      “You better watch him,” LydaAnn said, teasing her. “That Monte’s full of tricks.”

      “Not as much as I am,” Lily Rae said firmly.

      Everybody laughed but she ignored that. She didn’t care about getting attention right then because, small as she was, her whole purpose was to help hold the chair as Monte maneuvered his painful body into it.

      Great. This was the final humiliation—being taken care of by a child.

      “If that bull broke your leg, Monte, don’t walk on it,” Lily said, her piping voice cutting through all the rest of the conversation in the room. “I’ll get you my grandpa’s wheelchair.”

      “It’s not broke,” he snapped, much more harshly than he intended.

      He clamped his mouth shut. This was ridiculous. Why wouldn’t Jo Lena distract the child?

      “But then, what would poor Grandpa do?” Jo Lena said softly.

      “Use his walker,” Lily Rae said earnestly, “’cause he needs th’ zexercise.”

      Bobbie Ann chuckled with the others, then she said, “My heart’s so full this morning, I need to be the one to say the blessing.”

      Everyone bowed. Except Monte. He stared straight down the length of the table. He still was no hypocrite. And, six years later, it was still a fact that nobody was going to tell him what to believe.

      “Monte! Bow your head,” Lily Rae rasped in a loud whisper.

      Startled, he shot her a fierce look. She glared right back at him.

      Jo Lena gently laid her hand on the back of Lily’s head and the child bowed it then, but before she closed her eyes, she gave Monte one last, sharp glance upward from beneath her long lashes.

      In spite of his irritation, he had to suppress a grin. The kid had spunk—just like her mother.

      Bobbie Ann said the blessing, thanking God for the food and for Monte’s homecoming. Asking God to heal his body. Monte stared out the window behind his mother’s chair and tried not to think about her words.

      He would just as soon not be called to God’s attention. Look at the shape he was in. His whole life as he’d known it was gone. God wasn’t interested in him.

      As soon as Bobbie Ann was done, Lily Rae piped up. “Monte didn’t bow his head.”

      Everybody turned to look at him. He scowled at Lily Rae, which made everybody laugh but her.

      Lily Rae, frowning worriedly, turned to Bobbie Ann.

      “We have to teach him manners,” Lily said.

      That brought an even