The Twisted Oak

1

Wade

Pewter clouds hung heavy in the Wyoming sky, threatening to send the mourners running for cover once the first angry drops fell. Soft winds blew across the open land, carrying with them the scent of newly turned soil. So far, the weather had been unseasonably warm this year, but the cattle had been growing restless, always a sure sign winter was moving in. Colder temperatures were most certainly on the way.

Luck had been on Kenneth Dwyer’s side when he’d passed on two days ago. If he’d died even two weeks later, the earth would have been too hard, pushing the burial to the first warm days of spring. If the man had to die, at least he’d had the good fortune to do so before the first heavy snow blanketed the ground.

More guests had arrived than the family had anticipated, leaving many standing in the dead grass behind those fortunate enough to have snagged one of the cheap white folding chairs arranged in tidy rows. Others leaned against or sat upon the old stone wall running along the eastern border of the small family cemetery. At one point, it had enclosed the graveyard, but over the years, some of the stones had crumbled, leaving chunks of the wall open. Perhaps not the most comfortable setting, but nobody dared complain.

Wade wasn’t under any delusion that they were there to pay their respects. He knew most of them were just there to gawk—to see with their own eyes that the old man was really gone. Kenneth Dwyer had not been a well-liked man by any stretch of the imagination. The fact was, he’d made more enemies than friends in the sixty-three years he’d lived in Ruby.

Wade scanned the crowd, recognizing less than half the people there. Where the hell had they all come from? The whole thing had the air of an old traveling circus, with guests antsy for the entertainment to start.

Thunder, muted by distance, rolled over the open area and he raised his eyes. A raven circled, large wings gliding on the wind as it watched the curious proceedings from above. To the west, snowcapped mountains rose from the ground, bright against the darkening sky.

He sighed and knew if they were going to get this thing done before the rain arrived, they needed to step it up. He turned his attention back to the gathering and saw Casey gesturing for him to join the family. His older brother was visibly stressed, his jaw clamped down and mouth turned in a tight frown.

Wade’s own jaw flexed and he inhaled deeply, mentally bracing himself for the tidal wave of emotions he knew were coming. This day was going to be tough for everyone in the family, albeit in different ways. He straightened his shoulders and made his way to his brother, his long legs eating up the ground, dry grass crunching under his boots. If it weren’t for his brothers, Wade would have chosen to stay home. Celebrating his father’s life was not high on his list of priorities. His brothers, however, were both struggling with the unexpected loss. Their grief was the only reason he’d made the decision to join them in honoring the man who had made his life hell for so many years.

The front row had been reserved for family, so he took a seat next to Casey and wisely didn’t mention the unshed tears glistening on his lashes. Casey was the oldest of the three brothers and if their father had ever loved anyone—and that was a big “if”—it had been him. Casey was certainly their father’s favorite son. He’d expected more from Casey—pushed him hard as they grew, attempting to shape him into a miniature version of himself. And they hadshared a lot of interests, including an almost obsessive love for fishing, something Wade had never taken to.

Casey could pass for a younger version of their father, with his broad shoulders, thick waist, and beefy thighs—he exuded strength. Add in the dark brown hair and chocolate brown eyes and he was the spitting image of Kenneth Dwyer. However, that’s where the similarities ended because Casey didn’t have a hateful bone in his body. He was the guy who had a ready smile for everyone—friend or stranger. That old saying about giving someone the shirt off his back fit his brother to a T.

“You doing okay?”

Wade turned and slid his arm around his younger brother’s shoulders. Landon was trembling and Wade’s chest tightened. “Yeah. You holding up?”

Landon sniffled, nodding. He was lying, of course, but Wade wasn’t going to call him out on it. He just squeezed Landon’s shoulders and pulled him a little closer. “We’ll get through this together.”

Wade doubted Landon’s current state could be attributed completely to their father’s death. No doubt his brother was grieving, but he also knew Landon well enough to know something else was upsetting him. Their father hadn’t treated Landon too much better than Wade and their relationship had been terse. At least on their father’s part. Landon had always been a sensitive kid. He’d liked music more than ranching, which just pissed off their father. He’d wanted tough boys. He’d never cared for anything Landon liked. Still, Landon had worked hard over the years to gain their father’s approval. Perhaps knowing he never really got that was bothering him now. Or maybe just the unknown future, which was enough to scare any eighteen-year-old. Wade decided to make time to talk with him alone when they were back at home and reassure him things would eventually be okay. That there would be changes, but life would mainly stay the same.