Montana Cowboy Daddy (Wyatt Brothers of Montana #3) - Jane Porter Page 0,19

Beck’s diapers, and then after giving him a bottle, walked him around, including a look at all the framed family photos in the hall, that also went up the stairs. Baby photos and family photos. Faded color photos of boys in football uniforms, as well as team wrestling photos. There were other photos of showing animals, and early rodeo wins. A photo of Christmas that had to be back from the seventies by the collared shirts the guys were wearing.

Granddad joined her in the hall. “Those are my boys,” he said gruffly, pointing to two handsome teenagers holding trophies in a rodeo arena. “JC and Samuel. Their first national win in team roping before they were invited to join the professional association.”

She glanced at Melvin, heart tender. “How old were they there?”

“JC would have been about nineteen. Sam seventeen.”

“They were good.”

“They were good boys.” Melvin’s voice deepened. “Did everything together. A lot like Billy and Tommy. Best friends.”

She searched Melvin’s strong features, his skin weathered from years outdoors. In her research on the Wyatts, she’d read how Melvin’s sons had died together in an accident when they were in their late twenties. JC and Summer already had four little boys. Sam hadn’t yet married, but had been seeing someone for a while. “It must have been devastating,” she said softly.

“Hard losing them both like that, yes.” He reached out and ran his hand lightly across the top of Beck’s head. “But they went to be with my Bess, and hopefully they’re in a better place.”

“And then you raised JC’s boys.”

“Family first always.”

Again her heart ached, and she had to hold her breath, to keep emotion in check. “They’re lucky to have you.”

“They saved me. Without them, I doubt I’d still be here. They gave me purpose. They kept me busy. They gave me a lot of love.” He looked down at her, with the same blue eyes Billy had, with the same blue eyes Beck had. “At the end of the day, love is what matters. Integrity, honesty, respect… those all matter, but they mean nothing without love.”

For the second time that day Erika was on the verge of tears, and she didn’t want to cry. She didn’t like feeling so emotional. “I hope Beck is your great-grandson, if only that he could have you for a great-grandfather. He’d be so lucky to be part of this family.”

“Well, if he is, you are, too. We’d be family together.”

*

Dinner that night was less rowdy than the night before. Sam and Ivy were missing, and Joe and Sophie were eating dinner together at their place. Tommy had made dinner, his favorite, fried chicken with mashed potatoes, and Erika silently marveled that the Wyatt men all seemed to cook. She didn’t say this, of course, since her own culinary skill was next to nothing, but she admired Summer for making sure her sons knew how to fend for themselves.

It was during dessert, over coffee and leftover birthday cake, that Tommy brought up Erika’s studies. “Billy said you were in graduate school, working on your PhD. That’s pretty impressive.”

She blushed as all attention shifted to her. “It’s been a commitment.”

“What drew you to psychology?”

“I liked the idea of helping people. It’s an interesting field.”

“How much more do you have left?” Summer asked.

“I’m in the writing phase of my dissertation. All the research is done.”

“I don’t really know what that entails,” Melvin said, “but I suspect it means you spend a lot of time at a computer.”

Erika smiled at him. “That’s exactly what it entails. Lots of drafting, lots of rewriting, lots of double-checking my research, sometimes finding huge holes in my work.”

Summer was listening intently. “That can’t be easy when you’re caring for a baby on your own.”

“It’s not,” Erika admitted. “I haven’t done anything in the past month. I’m trying not to panic, but I’m behind.”

“I hate that feeling,” Tommy said, leaning forward to take another sliver of cake. “I don’t like being behind. Makes me irritable.”

“Makes you an ass,” Billy corrected. “But that’s also what makes you such a good competitor. You never say die.”

“You can’t,” Tommy agreed, licking the frosting from his fork prongs. “Wyatts never quit, and we never give up.” He looked up, a dimple flashing in his cheek. “Even when we should.”

“So, what’s next?” Melvin asked her.

“I’m trying not to get anxious, but I do need to get back to work soon. I need to graduate on time. I need to start earning money—and to do that I