Free A Cowboy for Mom by Honor James Page A

four a.m. was too damned early, even
for a lifer cowboy like himself. Stumbling to the bathroom, he hit the switch and
instantly regretted the light as it seared into his corneas. Hissing out a foul
curse, he threw up a hand to cover his eyes and continued toward where the
toilet was last seen.
    With an empty
bladder and hot water pounding down on his still-aching muscles, he was able to
crack his eyes open without feeling like he’d go blind. Not that he could see
much with his blurry eyesight. Too little sleep did that to a person, and it
gave him eyelids that felt more like sandpaper whenever he blinked.
    While the shower
helped wake hima bit, staring in the mirror he knew there was no way in hell he
was going to chance shaving. Making a face at his blond hair and blue eyes ( all his mother’s), he shook his head. Not putting a razor to
his throat was likely the wisest decision he’d make all day.
    Brushing his teeth,
he inspected himself as he did about once a week, noting all he had inherited
from his mother and father. The Scandinavian coloring was from his mother, with
blond hair that went white under the summer sun, blue eyes that changed with
his mood, and high, pronounced cheekbones. The square jaw that kept him from
looking too effeminate was from his dad, as was the small cleft and the big dimples
when he smiled full out. Same with the broad forehead, shoulders, and his
nearly six foot four inches in height. But he’d acquired
his mother’s ability to eat anything and everything without gaining a pound ,something his sister still hated him for since she’d ended
up with their father’s metabolism and was, more often than not, on a diet.
    Rinsing his mouth,
he brushed a towel over his face and wrinkled his nose. At one time it had been
as straight and aristocratic as his mother’s. But having been thrown from
horses over the years, and a couple of solid punches
from stupid fights as a young man had definitely given it a more unique
contour. At least he could breathe out of it, unlike a couple of his old school
chums who’d needed to have some serious surgery to correct that issue.
    Padding back to
the bedroom, naked of course since he didn’t bother with nightclothes and lived
alone in the farmhouse, he headed for the closet. Jeans, a lightweight cotton
undershirt and heavier long sleeve shirt on top, socks, and a pair of beaten-up
cowboy boots was his power suit of choice, both for working the ranch and
dealing with farmers and their lackeys.
    Oh, he had actual
suits, and he could even clean up right fine when he chose, but he was a
rancher and if people couldn’t accept that, then he didn’t care to know them.
Sadly, they all wanted to know him
since he was one half of the heir to a hell of a fortune, something else his
mother had left him, and his sister Beverly was the other half. Not that Carson or Beverly had   known that fact when they were growing
up. Hell, they hadn’t even learned about it until their mother passed away from
complications after surgery from a ruptured appendix. They found out that her
grandfather, their great-grandfather, had been some sort of shipping baron. His
son had turned it into a damned empire, and their mother had been the sole
beneficiary as she’d been an only child.
    The real kicker
was that even Carson ’s
dad hadn’t known about it and had been right pissed that the majority of the
fortune had gone to his kids instead of to him. Not that his mother had
forgotten his dad, but she knew him for what he was, and had given him only
what she felt he deserved,just enough to send him packing and leaving the ranch
in Carson’s more-than-capable hands.
    Pouring coffee
into the thermos, he dumped the last bit into a mug and, propping a hip to   the counter,
stared out into the dark yard. The ranch had been their mother’s. She’d bought
the land and started it up, teaching her kids the value of hard work and a
dollar. So when they’d gotten the inheritance and more