Owen (The Wolfe Mountain Men #1)

Chapter 1

Owen Wolfe sat at his kitchen table, admiring the view of the mountain at his rented cabin. It didn’t have the same feeling as his childhood home, but he enjoyed the peace and tranquility.

He sipped on his coffee, debating whether to cut more firewood or go fishing. After the long winter, he used most of his supplies and preferred not to go into the small town.

His cell phone rang, almost startling him. Owen rarely talked to anyone after the fight with his father and five brothers. Picking it up, he saw Gunny’s name flash across the screen.

“Hey, Gunny. I haven’t heard from you in a while,” he greeted his father’s military buddy.

“Owen. It’s your father, son. I’m sorry, they found Jeremiah in the lodge this morning. He passed away,” Gunny broke the news.

Pinching his nose, Owen held the phone to his ear. Grief didn’t come, but years of pent-up frustration and anger did.

“My brothers can bury him,” he said gruffly. “It’s not like me and the old man got along after the incident.”

“Jeremiah made you executor of his estate. He left you a letter. You have to come home, son. You’re the oldest, and Jeremiah put you in charge.”

Snorting, Owen opened the patio door, letting the cool wind aid him in absorbing the blow. “My brothers haven’t spoken to me since I left. What makes you think this changes anything?”

“You’ve got the morning to pack. If you leave by noon, you’ll be here around dinner. You can drive the rest of the way to Wolfe Mountain in the morning. “Do you want to call your brothers or shall I?”

Sighing, Owen swiped his forehead. “No, I’ll make the calls. Can you send me their numbers?”

“Will do. I’ll expect you here tonight, and we’ll save a room for you,” Gunny informed him.

Owen disconnected the call, and a minute later, Gunny sent the phone numbers of his siblings. It’s not as if he didn’t expect this day to come, but his dad turned seventy-two in November and always kept in shape.

Damn, he forgot to ask how he died. It didn’t matter. He’d know soon enough. Owen sat down on the wooden bench and dialed the first name on his list, Cade Wolfe.

When no one answered, he left a voicemail.

“Cade, it’s Owen. Dad passed away this morning. I’m heading to Gunny’s and then leaving for Wolfe Mountain tomorrow to make the arrangements.”

He hit the second number, calling his brother, Dillon.

“If you’re selling anything, lose this number,” his brother answered abruptly.

“Wait,” Owen rushed before Dillon hung up. “It’s Owen.”

A dead silence covered the line as the two men absorbed the shock of hearing from one another.

“I guess this means somebody’s dead or hell froze over. Which one can it be?” Dillon asked sarcastically.

“The first one,” Owen replied. “Dad passed away this morning. I’m letting you know.”

“I’m not coming,” Dillon said firmly.

“I didn’t ask,” Owen said angrily.

The phone line went dead.

“Son of a bitch,” Owen said under his breath. “Some things never change,” he grumbled as he called the next name on his list.

“You got Wyatt,” his brother answered.

“It’s me, Owen.”

The same awkwardness occurred as it did with Dillon.

“What do you want?” his brother demanded in a hard tone.

“Dad died this morning. I don’t know anything else. I’m headed there in the morning,” Owen said, waiting for his brother to respond. When Wyatt didn’t speak, Owen said, “Wyatt?”

He checked his phone and saw his brother hung up on him.

“What an asshole,” he exclaimed, already tired of his brother’s bullshit, and he still needed to make two more calls. Calling the fourth, Owen stood, pacing the small deck. A woman answered.

“Hello?”

“May I speak with Mason, please?” he asked nicely.

“May I ask who’s calling?” she asked.

“I’m Owen, his brother.”

“Oh,” she said slowly. “Just a minute.” He listened as the woman walked, calling his brother’s name. Children squealed in the background. Did Mason have kids? The knot in his stomach grew tighter as he realized he didn’t even know when he became an uncle.

“Owen,” a guarded voice answered.

“Mason. I’m calling to inform you Dad died this morning. I’ll be there tomorrow.”

A slight chuckle came over the line. “I wondered when I’d get a call from you or Dad telling me the other died. You made it clear when you left you wanted no part of the family. Why did you contact me now?”

“Because damn it, Dad died. He’s your father, too. I thought you might like to know,” he nearly shouted.

“He hasn’t contacted me in years, just like you. I reckon he didn’t consider us family any more than you did,” Mason said quietly. “Thanks for calling. I have my own family and don’t plan on rehashing the past. Take care, Owen,” he said before the phone clicked.

“Why in the hell did you have so many kids?” he yelled up to the sky. “They’re all assholes.”

Angrily punching the last number, he waited for Elias to pick up.

“Hello,” he answered.

“Elias, it’s Owen. Before you hang up, I’m calling to tell you Dad died this morning.

“What happened?” his brother asked quietly.

“I don’t know,” he said, surprised Elias even asked. “Gunny called with the news. I’m driving to his place tonight and then over to Wolfe Mountain in the morning. I guess I’ll find out then.”

“I can’t get there until tomorrow afternoon,” Elias said, surprising Owen.

“Uh, good,” he said, still in shock at Elias’ acceptance. “We can get settled and then go from there.”

“Will the others come?” Elias asked.

“No. It’s only us,” he admitted.

“I’ll see you then,” his brother said before he hung up.

Owen returned inside, turned off the coffee pot, and washed the few dishes in the sink.

He entered his bedroom and took out the only suit he owned, a couple of pairs of jeans, shirts, underwear, and socks.

He’d go to Wolfe Mountain, handle the funeral, and sign the paperwork.

After all, there was nothing to keep him there.