Reed was nearly six-four, deep-chested, bulky in his arms and legs, and about as strong as an ox. His hair was dark, his eyes darker. While Caleb was closer to six-one, broad shouldered, but with leaner muscles, a chiseled chin and bright blue, intelligent, observant eyes. His hair was a lighter brown, his voice bass instead of baritone.

“Mandy?” Caleb prompted, and there was something about the sound of her name on his lips that made her heart thud an extra beat. Where on earth had that come from?

“I doubt he was mourning your father,” she acknowledged.

If anything, Reed and Wilton’s relationship had deteriorated after Caleb left. Wilton wasn’t capable of anything but criticism, no matter how hard Reed worked. And no matter how much Reed accomplished on the ranch, his father wasn’t satisfied and told him so on a regular basis.

Intimidated by the man, Mandy had visited the Terrell house only when Wilton was away. Thankfully, he was away quite often. The very definition of a crotchety old man, he seemed to prefer the company of cattle to humans, and he spent many nights in line shacks on the range.

She’d done everything she could to support Reed. When she was sixteen and Reed was twenty, Wilton had ended a particularly hostile argument by whacking Reed’s shoulder with a two-by-four. Mandy had impulsively offered to marry Reed so he could move to the neighboring Jacobs ranch.

But he’d had laughed at her and tousled her hair, telling her he loved her like a sister, not a wife, and he wouldn’t turn his back on his father ever again. And by then, he was big enough to defend himself against Wilton.

“He should have left when I did,” Caleb broke into her thoughts again, his voice brittle.

“ You should have stayed,” Mandy countered, giving him her unvarnished opinion. If Caleb had been around, it would have been two against one, and Wilton would not have gotten away with so much cruelty.