Colton's Cowboy Code. Melissa Cutler

in a hurry, but this isn’t the only unsolved violent crime the Oklahoma State Bureau of Investigation is running DNA tests on. I’m doing the best I can. As far as we can tell, the ranch is safe.”

      “It is if you don’t count the downed fence lines. Last week was the third occurrence since Mother’s attack of our fences being tampered with.”

      “Maybe that’s the ghost that Maria keeps swearing she sees walking the fields at night,” Jack said, a gallows humor grin on his face.

      With a huff, Dad shook his head. “I swear, Maria is the most superstitious person I’ve ever met.”

      “Even still,” Daniel said, “I think Brett’s right. And I think we need to take action.”

      Being that this was the first time Daniel had seen fit to open his mouth that day, the chatter in the room died instantly as everyone gave him their full attention.

      Jack dropped back down to the sofa. “What do you propose?”

      “While the police do their thing, we circle the wagons. No more vandalism. No more hit men or violent robberies. We need to protect the ranch and the people in it.”

      “Agreed,” Brett said. He’d promised Hannah that she’d be safe here, and he planned on delivering. “I vote for nightly patrols in groups of two.”

      “That works for me,” Daniel said. “And we should consider installing alarm systems to every house and motion sensor lights in the yard, and running background checks of every Lucky C employee.”

      “This ranch employs a lot of people,” Dad said. “We can’t account for everyone, all the time.”

      “Well, we sure as hell better start trying,” Brett said. “Daniel’s right. It’s time to cowboy up and take care of our own. No one hurts the Coltons and gets away with it.”

      “I’ll help as much as I can,” Ryan said. “Meanwhile, my theory is that since we found one piece of Abra’s jewelry, there’s got to be more. I’ll get some uniforms in our department to search local pawnshops again. I’ve already got a techie going through the hospital’s external security footage.”

      “I’ll take first patrol tonight,” Jack said.

      Dad stood. “I’ll join you. This old house is too quiet these days without Abra.”

      Nobody argued with that, even though their mother was a nonentity in the house most days. She and Dad hadn’t slept in the same quarters as long as Brett could remember, and she rarely left her bedroom suite, especially in the evenings.

      In the awkward silence that descended over the room, Daniel stood and set his empty coffee mug on the tray. Eric followed suit, busing his mug then checking his phone.

      Brett drew a deep breath. The mood wasn’t even close to relaxed and jovial, but it was time to get this next conversation over with. “Wait, everyone. Eric, Daniel. I have something big I need to tell you.”

      “You’re gay,” Daniel deadpanned under his breath, quiet enough that Brett was probably the only person who heard him.

      “What? Yeah. Exactly.” He slapped Daniel on the back. “Way to call it, bro.”

      Daniel shrugged, flashing a hint of a devilish smile that was gone just as fast. He might be Brett’s funniest sibling, if only he’d let his guard down around the rest of the family.

      Jack released a deep sigh. “This better not be any more of your harebrained schemes to make changes around the ranch. I already agreed to purchase a stud horse, so don’t push your luck.”

      “It’s not about the business. Well, I mean it is, but not like that.” He bit his lip to stop his blathering while everyone resettled.

      Edith chose that moment to bustle in and beelined for the coffee service. “Are you done with the coffee, everyone?”

      “That depends,” Dad said. “Brett, is this going to be quick or should I pour myself another cuppa?”

      Brett checked the time out of habit. He was scheduled to pick Hannah up in ninety minutes, give or take. “Have another cup, Pops. And Edith, you might as well stick around to hear this, too.”

      In no time, all eyes were on him. Last night and that morning, he’d visualized broaching the topic of his impending fatherhood from dozens of different angles, but the only conclusion he’d reached was that there was no good, easy way to reveal the news.

      “I hired an accountant for the ranch.” He shook his head and nearly smacked it. What the heck was that, stupid? That’s how you’re going to tell your family you’re going to be a father?

      Jack scowled at him, his mouth agape. “How do you figure you have a right to make a decision like that without consulting us?”

      No backing down now, especially with Jack in full jackass older-brother mode again. “Number one—because we could use the help. Pops, you spend half your time at the hospital tending to Mom, as you should be, and you have enough to worry about without messing with a bunch of ledgers and spreadsheets.”

      “That’s my call,” Dad said. “Don’t tell me what I can and can’t handle. I’ll retire when I’m good and ready, and I’m not expecting to anytime soon. I’m with Jack. What were you thinking, making such a huge decision like that on your own?”

      A wave of panic hit Brett. He’d expected his dad to stubbornly cling to his job, but not to be so fundamentally offended by the idea of Brett hiring help. A part of him had held out hope that his dad would be relieved to have the burden taken off his shoulders.

      “With all the new tax laws and corporate regulations this country is levying on small farms, the ranch’s books have become a helluva lot more complicated than simple addition and subtraction,” Brett said. “If we want this ranch to thrive in the future, then we have to modernize every aspect of the business in a competitive, forward-thinking way—our breeding programs, our business model and our financial plan.”

      Jack groaned. “Here we go again. I thought you agreed to lay off the ‘futuristic business’ talk until we see how that goes.”

      “I know, and you’ll see that I’m right, but hiring an accountant is different. Tax planning, retirement planning, workers comp insurance,” Brett enumerated on his fingers. “Pops, you don’t want to have to deal with all that, do you? Furthermore, you’re not qualified to. None of us are.”

      Jack set his mug on the coffee table hard enough that the spoons on the tray rattled. “I’ll give you that, but I still don’t understand why you saw it as your right to go behind our backs to do the hiring. Even if you are right about us needing a full-time accountant.”

      Brett squelched a look of utter shock. Jack conceding a point to Brett? It was inconceivable. He was afraid to look outside, lest he see the ranch’s hogs taking to the skies upon wings. “You won’t regret it. She’s highly qualified.”

      Ryan and Jack both threw up their hands as though they’d choreographed their disgust. “She. Okay, I get it now, hotshot,” Ryan said. “So by highly qualified you mean she’s young and hot.”

      Hannah was young and hot, but he kept that part to himself.

      Jack stabbed the air with his index finger. “We are not—I repeat, not—hiring your good-timing girl of the week to be responsible for our ranch’s financial health. Deal off.”

      Well, this is going about as well as I expected, Brett thought grimly. Time to solidify their stellar opinion of me. At least Hannah wasn’t around yet to witness the ass chewing he was about to get.

      He slid her résumé onto the table. “She’s not my good-timing girl of the week.” She had been exactly that give or take nineteen weeks earlier, but that was beside the point. “Her name is Hannah Grayson. She has a bachelor’s degree in accounting from Tulsa United’s online program,