do you think you’re doing?” She pitched the mare forward with every intention of running over the intruder. “This is private property. No trespassing.”
The tall, haughty man didn’t seem the least bit disturbed by the close proximity of the horse. Instead, he smiled and hitched the bulky bag onto his back. “I could tell you the same.”
Mattie glared at the stranger. “I don’t know who you are, but you don’t want to mess with John McCray.” She motioned toward the aircraft now setting up for lift-off. “I suggest you hurry, or you’re going to miss your ride.”
The broad-shouldered man instead began walking in the direction of the house. After a few moments, Mattie dug her heels into Tulip’s side and caught up with him. She guessed the fellow to be in his late thirties and couldn’t help but notice how the brown curls against his forehead accented his blue eyes. “What did you say your name was?”
He stopped and turned. “I didn’t, but since you brought it up, who are you, and why are you riding my father’s horse?”
Mattie’s eyebrows scrunched in doubt. Could this be the star quarterback the whole county admired? The man who abandoned his father’s ranch, who couldn’t call his own dad in the hospital? Upon closer examination, he did bear a grand resemblance to John. They both possessed thin upper lips, bushy eyebrows, and the very same cleft in their chins.
“Gil?”
“One and the same.”
Mattie wished she had a cowboy hat to cover her embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“That’s quite all right. It’s refreshing not to be recognized for a change, Miss . . .”
“Mattie Evans. I’m a friend of your father’s.”
Gil’s brow wrinkled as though trying to put a face with the name, then his lips flattened into a straight line. “That’s funny — I didn’t think the old man had any friends.” He continued his trek across the pasture.
Unable to let the comment pass without rebuttal, she clicked her tongue to move Tulip forward. “Not that you’d know or care, but your father has lots of friends. It’s a shame he can’t say the same about family.”
Gil stopped abruptly. “What are you implying, Miss Evans?”
“Only that you couldn’t be bothered to visit your father when he needed you most.” Mattie raised her chin, daring him to deny the statement.
“What makes you an expert on my family?” His sudden irritation could have torn the hide off one of John’s steers.
“I told you — I’m a friend. I care about your father.”
“And I don’t? You don’t know the first thing about me and my father — how things are with us.”
Mattie fidgeted in her seat. Perhaps she’d gone too far. “I know this. If you walk up to your father’s doorstep unannounced, you’ll likely send him into cardiac arrest.”
Gil’s sudden arrival had certainly jump-started her heart. In fact, it took her breath away. She hated to think what John’s reaction might be. Patting the mare’s sleek neck, she stole a peek at the quarterback’s chiseled face.
“If you don’t mind, I’ll ride ahead and let John know you’re here.”
“I’d be obliged if you would,” Gil said, a forced politeness in his tone. “I could use a little time to get my thoughts in order.”
“I imagine your dad would appreciate the same.” With a flick of the reins, Mattie moved ahead of him, past a squeaky windmill.
“The prodigal son returns.” His sarcastic tone echoed against the clear blue sky.
Mattie glanced back and saw his cynical grin. Galloping onward, she whispered a prayer that the two McCray men wouldn’t butt heads like two bulls in a pasture.
MATTIE LED HER MOUNT INTO THE MCCRAY BARN, SURPRISED TO see John sitting on a hay bale.
“How did Tulip do? The mare didn’t fool you into thinking she was tired, did she?” John teased, a muffin crumb stuck to the stubble on his chin.
“No, she didn’t pull any tricks.” Mattie took her time unbuckling the leather saddle strap, unsure how to inform the man of his son’s arrival.
“Tell that to Gil. Last time he was here, he wanted to sell her. Insisted Tulip was too lazy to catch up to those steers. A lot he knows — got sidetracked with football and lost interest in cowboy ways.”
Mattie remembered going to the local rodeos as a girl but was too young to recall Gil. “My sisters said he could have gone pro.”
The aged rancher stood and leaned on his wooden cane. “I guess he had other ideas.” John’s heavy fist slammed against