I climbed up the steps and crossed the porch to the front door. I knocked once and then opened the door. Before stepping inside, I wiped my feet on the doormat. I wasn't crazy enough to walk across Mrs. Gibbons hardwood floors with dirt on my boots.
That was just stupid.
I walked directly through the house to the back where Monty's office was located. I knew that was where he'd be. That's where he always was.
The door was open, so I stepped inside. "Monty, you wanted to see me?"
The old man turned from where he'd been looking out the window to the fenced pastures beyond. "Come in and take a seat, Jos. Shut the door behind you."
That was an unusual request.
I shut the door and walked farther into the room, taking a seat across the desk from Monty. My eyebrows lifted a bit when Monty got up and walked over to the shelf on the side of the room and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and two glasses without using his cane.
After a stampede where he'd had his legs trampled, Monty had had to use a cane to get around. It was one of the main reasons I had taken over as foreman. As much as Monty loved the ranch, he wasn't physically able to be in the saddle all day long.
Monty poured us each a glass of whiskey then handed one to me. The man did not sit down. Instead, he carried his glass over to the window and went back to looking out at the pasture land.
"You never met my father, did you?"
"No, sir." The old man had died before I arrived on the ranch.
"He was a hard man, a cold man, but I always knew he loved me in his own way. It was never anything he said really." Monty chuckled. "He didn't say much actually, but the knowledge was there when he'd look at me at times."
I wouldn't know. I didn't have a clue who my parents were. I'd been left on the doorstep of a church when I was just a few days old. Instead of being adopted as many babies were, I'd spent years bouncing from one foster home to the next until I ended up in juvenile detention, where I'd remained until I was eighteen years old.
"I was in the Marines twenty-six years ago, stationed in Okinawa, Japan when news came in that my father was ill. I flew home, believing that I would be here for a little while and then go back, but then he died and I was tasked with taking over the ranch and ensuring my mother was cared for." Monty glanced back at me. "Since I was an only child, I was the only one who could do it, you understand?"
I nodded.
"I never went back to Japan." Monty turned to look out the window again. "The Marines let me out and I started running the ranch." Monty drew in a deep breath. "And I never went back."
I squinted at the guy. He'd said that twice. "Monty?"
"I have a son," Monty replied. "A son I knew nothing about."
"Holy fuck!"
Monty chuckled, but it wasn't a happy sound. "Apply put."
"Where is he?" I asked. "Is he still in Japan?"
"He's actually on his way here."
My mouth dropped open. "He's on his way here?"
Monty nodded before taking a large drink of his whiskey. "Mitsuaki's mother died when he was born and he was raised by his maternal grandfather, who passed away last week. The family doesn't want him there, so they are sending him here."
Wait, that didn't sound right.
"Who cares what the family wants?" Monty's kid had to be at least twenty-five, which meant he got to make decisions about his life, not his family.
"That's not the way things are done in Japan, at least not in traditional families, and Akari's family is very traditional." Monty snorted out a rude sound. "Hell, I'm surprised they even let Mitsuaki live."
"What?"
Monty grimaced as he looked at me. "Half-American bastard child. I doubt he was greatly accepted by Akari's family. They were very much into the traditional Japanese way of life. They had her whole life all planned out for her from the day she was born, right down to who she would marry, and it wasn't an American Marine from Montana."
I leaned back in my chair and then lifted my glass to my lips and took a sip, and then I took another one. A bigger one.
I needed it.
"So, your son is coming here then?"
Monty nodded. "He's already on his way here."
Right, he'd said that.
I had worked my ass off for the Cross Creek Ranch, planning to spend the rest of my life on this little plot of land. Now, I wasn't sure if that was going to happen. It ignited an anger in my gut that I might have to rethink my plans.
"We've never discussed it," Monty said, "the reason why you've never married or brought a girl home to the ranch, but you know I've never had an issue with it."
I gulped, caught off guard, and then nodded. "Yes, sir."
"I've always kind of figured as long as you did your job," Monty continued, "it wasn't my concern who you had in your bed. What you did on your down time was your business."
I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I'd never discussed my preference for men because it wasn't widely accepted in our little part of Montana. I usually drove up to Helena to relieve my itch when it came. I never indulged myself close to home.
"You know I never married, although not for the same reason. With the ranch and all, there just never seemed to be time to have a family. I always thought I'd get around to it eventually, and then one day, I discovered I was old."
I nodded even though I didn't believe Monty was that old. The accident had just made him seem that way. "Yes, sir."
"I never had any children either." Monty chuckled. "At least, I didn't think I did."
I knew that, too.
"I had planned to leave the ranch to you when I died, Jos."
Well, fuck.
"I still want to give you the ranch. You love it almost as much as I do, but I can't. I hope you understand that. I have to leave something for my kid."
The kid he knew nothing about until now.
I pressed my lips together to keep from shouting at Monty. The man had no idea he had a kid until this Mitsuaki popped up. I, on the other hand, had worked my ass off for this place, taking over when Monty got hurt and could no longer work the ranch.
And now all of my hard work meant nothing.
"Which is why I want you to marry Mitsuaki."
