LITMIR.BIZ

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out to their biological fathers, they’d been rejected. “I’m slowly coming to grips with the possibility that I’ll never know who my dad is.”

      “What about the stuff Grandma left in the attic?”

      “I went through the boxes a couple of years ago. There’s no information about any of our fathers.”

      “If you decide to search for him, I’ll help in any way I can.”

      “Thanks.” Porter figured his brother would remain in the bunkhouse forever if he didn’t nudge him toward the door. “I need to finish packing.”

      Johnny put on his hat. “Don’t forget to text Dixie when you arrive in Grand Junction. She’ll send out a search party if you don’t.”

      He wouldn’t forget, because he didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of Wendy if his brothers showed up out of the blue to check on him.

      Why do you care what Wendy thinks?

      He didn’t care. “I’ll keep Dixie informed of my whereabouts.”

      Johnny opened the bunkhouse door. “Does Dixie know Wendy’s going with you?”

      “Not unless Wendy told her.” If the two had talked, Porter was sure his sister would have warned him to mind his manners with her friend. “Say hi to Shannon and give Addy a hug from Uncle Porter.”

      “Will do. Drive safe.”

      Once the door shut behind Johnny, Porter sprawled across the couch. He hated that one of his sister’s girlfriends would be monitoring his every move and groaned when he thought of spending a week with the no-nonsense woman. He closed his eyes and conjured up an image of Wendy in her suit pants and silk blouse.

      This was going to be the longest road trip of his life.

      * * *

      “YOUR TRUCK SMELLS brand-new,” Wendy said after she climbed into Porter’s Dodge Ram.

      “I bought it three months ago. It’s my new babe magnet,” he joked.

      Babe magnet aside, Wendy marveled at how a rodeo bum/livestock hauler could afford a new pickup. Maybe he’d saved for years to cover the down payment. Or maybe Buddy Davidson had paid Porter a bonus when he’d signed on to work at Del Mar Rodeo. Or...maybe Porter had been told if he asked no questions and did his job well he’d receive a kickback after Buddy collected the insurance money from the missing bulls. Wendy had a tough time believing her friend’s brother was a criminal.

      “Wave goodbye to the twins.” Porter nodded to Conway’s sons, standing on the porch in their pajamas.

      She waggled her fingers out the window. “What are they doing up at five-thirty in the morning on a school day?”

      “Their twin sisters’ crying probably woke them. The walls in the farmhouse are pretty thin.”

      Dixie had posted a cute picture of the girls to her Facebook page the day Isi gave birth to them.

      Porter started the truck, shifted gear, then honked as he drove out of the yard.

      “I bet Isi doesn’t get much sleep with infant twins and two rambunctious six-year-olds to take care of.”

      “The boys being in school full-time helps. During the day Conway focuses on the farm, then when Mig and Javi get off the bus, he keeps them out of Isi’s hair.”

      “I doubt Conway and Isi have much time to themselves.”

      “Every couple of weeks I have a sleepover in the bunkhouse with the boys so their parents can have a date night.”

      The scent of Porter’s cologne filled the cab and the earthy smell distracted Wendy. She should be asking questions about his job, not his family. “Sounds as if you like being an uncle.”

      He chuckled, the gravelly noise rolling over her skin and making her shiver. “Are you cold?” He switched off the air conditioner. The fact that he noticed made it even more difficult to focus on her job.

      “How long have you been working for an insurance company?” He turned onto the highway.

      “Four years. I hired on with American Livestock after college.”

      “I’m sure Dixie mentioned it, but where did you go to school?”

      “Arizona State University. I graduated from the W. P. Carey School of Business.” Was it her imagination or were Porter’s knuckles turning white against the steering wheel? “Did you go to college?”

      “I couldn’t decide what I wanted to study. Then I got caught up in rodeoing with my brothers—” he shrugged “—and never ended up registering for any classes at the junior college.”

      “I was surprised when I saw your name on Buddy’s roster of drivers. Last I’d heard you were working with Mack at the Black Jack Mountain Dude Ranch.”

      “About twenty hours a week,” he said. “I filled in when they needed an extra hand.”

      “Do you like cowboying?”

      “I do. And I liked socializing with the ranch guests.”

      That didn’t shock her. Of all the Cash brothers, Porter was the friendliest—former Mr. Popular in high school. She’d rarely seen him walk the halls alone and students had always gathered at his locker between classes. And he never sat by himself in the cafeteria, which made him taking a job that required driving long hours alone odd.

      “If you enjoyed the dude ranch, how did you end up going to work for Del Mar?” she asked.

      “I’d been on the lookout for a permanent job for a while.”

      “Was the position advertised in the newspaper? Online? Did you hear about it from a friend?”

      Porter’s eyebrows drew together. “Actually, it was the strangest thing. I ran into Hank Martin at a bar. He said Buddy was hiring drivers and suggested I apply.”

      Wendy knew that Hank Martin was Buddy’s right-hand man and handled the rodeo scheduling.

      Porter nodded to the iPad Wendy had opened on her lap. “Are you documenting my answers on that thing?”

      “No.”

      “Do you ask all the drivers you ride with the same questions?”

      Porter’s inquisitiveness would only get her in trouble and she didn’t want to lie any more than she had to, so she changed the subject. “How many hours of training did Del Mar provide you with?”

      “None. Hank asked if I’d ever driven a rig before and I said no but that I’d hauled my share of horse trailers. That seemed to satisfy him.”

      Had Buddy known that Hank had sent Porter out with little to no training? Rodeo bulls were expensive, especially those with winning records. It didn’t make sense for Hank to trust the bulls with an inexperienced driver.

      “How many trips have you gone on?” she asked.

      “Twelve. They were short runs. Didn’t have any trouble.”

      When Porter reached the Yuma city limits, he turned onto the county road that would take them to Buddy’s ranch. Fifteen miles later he parked the pickup next to the hay barn.

      Hoping she wouldn’t run into Buddy and have to make up a lie as to why she hadn’t informed him that she was tagging along with Porter, she said, “I’ll wait in the pickup while you get the keys to the stock trailer.”

      “The keys are in the trailer. Hank and Buddy left for Idaho yesterday. They’re checking out a new bull at a ranch up there.” Porter grabbed their overnight bags and stowed them in the cab of the trailer.

      Wendy stood aside while Porter inspected the tires and made sure the latch on the trailer was secure. “Do you check in with Buddy each day when you’re on the road?”

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