Two To Wrangle (Hotel Rodeo #2)(7)

For the next couple of hours, Bob drove her around on a golf cart, showing her the grounds and introducing her to the ranch hands. The foreman, Bart, was a gruff, old weather-beaten cowboy who tipped his hat with a glower and mumbled condolences.

“Don’t let ol’ Bart fool you,” Bob said. “Trust me when I say he’s hurtin’. Ol’ timers like him would rather be strung up by their . . . er . . . boots than show any emotions.”

She knew the same was true of Ty, who she was certain would rather be strung up by the balls than ever be reminded of his impassioned outpouring. Cowboys. She shook her head ruefully. The breed seemed to be an odd blend of both the best and worst traits of the entire male species.

“This place is huge,” Monica remarked, as they returned back to the sprawling Spanish-style ranch house.

“It is,” Bob agreed. “The house is about four thousand square feet and sits on over five thousand acres of prime pasturelands. There are six bedrooms,” Bob continued. “Tom and Rosa’s rooms are on the east side, and there are four more in the west wing, each with a private bath.”

“I wonder why he built so many.” She also wondered if Tom had ever felt lost in it living alone.

“He always wanted a big family,” Bob said.

“It’s a shame he didn’t get that wish,” Monica replied. Although Tom had married and divorced three times, she was his only child.

Wandering the great room, she noted the distinctly masculine furnishings, mostly burnished oak and studded leather. There were also myriad painful reminders of Tom—a worn pair of boots by the door, a hat rack that held several cowboy hats, and a pair of reading glasses sitting beside a recent issue of The Cattleman.

She picked up the dog-eared book beside it, a well-worn hardback of Zane Grey’s Riders of the Purple Sage. She caressed the cracked leather-bound cover. The book reminded her of Ty’s drunken eulogy. She’d been enraged at the time. Now she only felt vague wistfulness that Ty had known Tom so much better than she had.

She deeply regretted that she hadn’t met her father until ten years ago. She was eighteen and already in college when he’d walked into her life. All her mother, Vivian, had ever told Monica was that she was the result of a mistake made in Vegas. She’d never known her biological father until Vivian discovered he was a billionaire and filed a lawsuit. Although Vivian won eighteen years of back child support, Tom hadn’t cared about money. He’d just cared about getting to know his only child.

Their relationship had developed awkwardly at first, but he’d been dogged about them getting to know each other. Tom was nothing like the other people in her life. She couldn’t help wondering what it would have been like if she’d been raised by him. What kind of person would she be today had she grown up with a father’s love?

At the stocked bar, Monica examined the bottles. Not finding any brandy, she poured two glasses of Chivas Regal and handed one to Bob, who accepted it with a nod of thanks. She took a sip with a tiny grimace, missing her usual Calvados.

“When you’re ready, I’ll need you to go through Tom’s personal effects,” Bob said. “You can start that process any time.”

“I’ll wait until Ty arrives,” she said. “He grew up here, after all. I wouldn’t feel right doing any of that without him. When do you expect him?” She anticipated Ty’s arrival with renewed anxiety. Not that the sprawling ranch wasn’t plenty big enough for her and Ty to stay well out of each other’s way.

“He called earlier to say he’d be arriving in the morning,” Bob replied.

“But didn’t he just leave Las Vegas this afternoon?”

“Yup, but he said he’d rather drive straight through and rest when he gets here.”

“He’ll be exhausted,” she said.

“Probably, but he’s done the drive plenty of times before. He lived on the road for years when he was doing the rodeo circuits.”

“Did you know him back then?” she asked, recalling what Ty had told her about those years.

“I ran into him now and again,” Bob replied cautiously.

“Is he much different now than he was then?” she couldn’t help inquiring.

Bob sat back, contemplation wrinkling his forehead. “Ty will always be Ty, but he’s no longer hell-bent on self-destruction. His marriage was a disaster, but he seems to have gotten himself together since then. Tom was real proud of the job he’s done at the hotel.”

“But the place is on the brink of bankruptcy,” she exclaimed. “Believe me, I know. I’ve reviewed the books.”

“Maybe so, but it’s not Ty’s fault. The place was struggling long before he took over. He’s all that’s kept it afloat. Without him, Tom probably would have closed it years ago.”

“You really believe that?” she asked dubiously.

“Tom believed it,” Bob replied. “It’s why he decided to let Ty call the shots.”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

“You should probably be aware that Tom made a few changes to his will in the past year.”

“What kind of changes?” she asked.

“Don’t worry, Miss Brandt. You are still Tom’s personal representative and primary beneficiary, but there’s a codicil granting Ty controlling interest in Brandt Morgan Entertainment.”