The ranch owner hadn’t come across as a saint when Jareth first met him. Hell, his reputation wasn’t that of a kind person, either, but Jareth had ignored speculation. He’d never been given the benefit of the doubt back home based on his actions as a kid. Jareth had given him the chance.
But when Cyan got shot and Kettleson didn’t even ask if she was alright? Threw down insults and complaints instead of showing common human decency? Jareth might have been the one who shot her, but Kettleson was in the wrong.
Jareth needed a plan before he went inside to face his boss. He couldn’t quit, much as he wanted to, because his cousins all depended on the pay for the winter-long job. Ranch hand work was hard to come by in the snowy months. Everyone who hired off-site help already had their positions filled.
If the Montana Trails lost the work, they’d be income-less for months.
But Jareth couldn’t stay quiet either. Jareth wouldn’t be true to himself, if he left things as they were and groveled for their jobs. He’d made a mistake. He’d do what he needed to do, but he also couldn’t let the rest of his family suffer for a stupid mistake he’d made.
That would never do.
Nate drove the ATV into the secured lean-to off the west side of the large barn and parked it. He didn’t say anything to Jareth, instead patted his shoulder as they walked from the quad. They parted ways at the bunkhouse, Nate going inside and Jareth taking the trail to the main house.
Kettleson had said meet him in the office. Jareth didn’t have any other reason to wait.
The opulence in the thick, plush carpeting and the polished wood walls left a bad aftertaste in Jareth’s mouth. Money wasn’t much when there was no decency behind it. When he’d first arrived, all Jareth could think about was having what Kettleson had one day. What if all that wealth came at great cost? What if Kettleson was a heartless bastard because of his money?
Jareth would rather roll in poverty than become like that.
He scraped his boots on the stiff rug beside the door and took the first door on the left. A small waiting room filled with comfortable couches in plaids and a captain’s desk welcomed him. He knocked on the inner door which lead into the main office where Kettleson oversaw his lands and businesses.
“Come in.” Growling lessened the welcome, making the visit even less palatable – if that were possible.
Jareth entered, removing his hat and holding it at waist level.
Smith, Kettleson’s main foreman stood with his arms folded behind Kettleson who waited in a large wing backed office chair. Jareth didn’t know his first name because when he’d been introduced to the team, Kettleson had said his first name didn’t matter.
Another two austere men with their gray suits and tightly cut hair claimed the only other two chairs in the room. Maybe they only had last names as well.
Judging by the lack of chairs, Jareth would be standing for the meeting. Great. The effects of adrenaline wore, leaving serious fatigue behind to drag at him. His weariness was spurred on by his guilt and disappointment in himself.
Would Cyan ever forgive him?
Blinking, he realized Kettleson was talking to him. Lovely, he couldn’t even pay attention to any dressing downs he got.
“I don’t know how much I really need you or your Montana Trail cousins, to be frank.” Kettleson swiveled in his high-backed, leather seat, glancing at the men sitting in the chair and back to Jareth.
His disbelief swelled. With a guilty conscience riding his back, Jareth allowed anger to take over. His emotion sharpened his focus. “You’re going to punish the gang for something I did? An accident stemming from an order you gave? Encouraged with a fat bonus?” Jareth didn’t have a plan, but throwing the facts out there should buy him time until he could figure out what to do. “The Burns are going to sue the chaps off you. I spoke with her parents. They’re prepared to bring down a lot of lawyers on you and this ranch. More than the two you have sitting here.”
“What are you saying? Are you threatening me?” Kettleson stopped moving his chair and turned his head to peer at Jareth from under his over-brooding eyebrows. “If so, you can take your pathetic ass off my property and grab your gang on your way.”
One of the suits cleared his throat and tightly shook his head at Kettleson.
Glancing sharply at the pair, Kettleson’s expression hardened. “Step outside, Darby. Don’t go far.” He waited as Jareth stepped out and closed the door.
Slumping against the wall outside the office, Jareth rubbed his eyes. He really didn’t care what happened to him in that exact moment. He just wanted to sleep. If he were any younger, he’d cry, but that wasn’t an option any more.
What had he said that got Kettleson’s attention? Something to do with what Kettleson was doing and the legalities attached to it. Of course the wolf poaching was illegal, but was it illegal enough that Kettleson would try to cover anything up?
What was Jareth playing with? The rest of his family needed the money. This wasn’t some game. He squelched the nausea roiling in his gut. Now wasn’t the time to spew his nerves all over the shiny floor. Wait until he was fired for sure, then maybe he’d leave things a mess.
No, not even then. He wasn’t rich but he’d be damned before he’d sell his integrity.
He hoped.
“Darby! Inside.” Kettleson’s voice was muffled through the thick oak door, but discernible.
Jareth returned to the room, tilting back his head and watching the four men like circling jackals.
“Here’s what we’re going to do.” Kettleson folded his hands on the desk and leaned forward. “You and your gang are going to get the hell off my land. Keep quiet about the incident. Stay out of it, and I won’t tell other ranchers what you pulled here tonight.” He splayed his hands. “Take it or leave it.”
Enough was enough. Jareth refused to roll over for the vindictive man. He smirked, his confidence rising. He’d been a master negotiator growing up, getting teachers to give him redos when there was no reason he should have them. This wasn’t any different, even though the stakes were much higher.
“Tell you what. You keep us on and I won’t say anything.” Jareth hooked his thumbs in his back pockets. He refused to cross his arms. He wasn’t uncomfortable… much.
“If I don’t? You really think some rankled ex-employee is going to be taken seriously?” He steepled his fingers, half-covering the snide twist to his lips behind his hands.
Jareth shrugged, exuding a lack of concern. “If you don’t, I’ll be the Burns’ star witness about what I was doing when I shot her. Why I was doing it. It’s no secret in my life or where I come from that my family needs money. They won’t even need to dig for that information. Ex-employee or not, I’ll have believability in that.” And he realized it was true. If nothing else, at least people knew he did what he needed to do for his family.
Nothing could change that.
Kettleson stood, rounding his desk, and stopped in front of it, settling back on the glossy surface. “You want to take the chance that we’re going to treat you fair based on that flimsy deal?”
“No. You’re going to guarantee that Smith over there makes sure we’re treated right. In exchange, I’ll work on the girls and the parents to get them to back off on the… matters at hand.” He didn’t want to say wolves, because he wasn’t convinced he had any sway there, but maybe he could convince Cyan to drop any charges or interest in the shooting. He’d shot her and he was bound and determined to make her see it was an accident. His guilt demanded it.
“Let’s clarify. You’re going to get them to stop pushing the wolf agenda and to drop any legal repercussions with this shooting. In exchange, I have to guarantee exemplary behavior from me and my men?” Kettleson pushed his lips to the side in contemplation.
Put that way, Jareth sounded pretty smart – which he didn’t believe for a second. If Kettleson believed it, though… Jareth would take whatever he could get. “I think that about sums it up.”
“What if you’re not successful? What if she doesn’t stop?” Kettleson tilted his head back, watching Jareth with narrowed eyes.
Jareth shrugged. He probably wouldn’t be successful. Nothing about Cyan guaranteed she’d give up anything for anyone – least of all the man that shot her. “I can’t guarantee anything. I’ll try. She’s free to make her own choice.”
Kettleson watched him, pressing a finger to his thin lips. After a moment he kicked his foot onto the rug like a pawing horse and pointed into the air with no real direction. “Tell you what, let’s sweeten the deal. If you get her to drop everything, leave me alone about the wolves and my hunting ranch – everything – I’ll give you twenty-thousand dollars on top of the money you’ll be making. That’s to convince her. You’ll also get extra time off to see her whenever you need it.” He raised his white eyebrows. “Does that change your mind about guaranteeing me what I want?”
It took all the effort Jareth had to keep his jaw from dropping to the ground. The things he could do with that kind of money. The things he could help his parents with. Something could be done for Emma. He could do so much.
The staggering amount of money – an amount he’d never dreamed of seeing together all at once – took his breath away. Claimed a part of his resolve.
He jerkily nodded his head. “Yes. I can guarantee I’ll change her mind.” A sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach dropped like a lead weight. He’d just promised to change exactly what he liked about the blue-haired woman.
Chapter 10
Cyan
Cyan rolled her uninjured shoulder. The movement tugged on her wound and she winced. Of course, she would get shot chasing after her dreams. Why wouldn’t she? It wasn’t like what she wanted ever mattered.
Her mom finished cutting up Cyan’s soy wheat germ pancake and drizzled all natural maple syrup over the plate. “I think it’s important to listen to what the lawyers said, honey.”
“I can’t believe you guys are downplaying this as much as you are. I understand the forgiveness thing, but come on. You have all this money, the least you could do is screw Kettleson to the wall.” Cyan blinked back tears. Her mom’s education as a healing nurse was solid. She’d sewn up Cyan’s wounds after applying tinctures and poultices. For good measure, her dad had wafted burnt sage throughout their home and claimed to be sending away bad spirits.
Sage or not, Cyan didn’t see why the whole house needed to be high for her to have stitches. The dang things had hurt like mad and she couldn’t stop eating. Sometimes the hippy sides of her parents drove her mad.
Her dad stopped chewing and rested his forearms against the table. “Look, pumpkin, it doesn’t matter how much money we have. I’m just as mad as you are, maybe more, that this guy shot you, but facts are facts. Our lawyers reported people get accidentally shot all the time – especially out here. Even if we could do something, all the judicial offices and courts are closed due to the inclement weather. Which means, anything that was scheduled will be pushed out for another however long and we’re just going to have to wait.”
Her dad didn’t look mad. He looked sedate, like he’d hovered over a bong instead of an incense burner.
Anger would be appreciated. Cyan wanted someone else to feel the fiery passion and determination that drove her. She didn’t even care what it was about. Most of the time though her dad was either too occupied with dampening his pain or he was stoned from “supplementing” the tinctures and other cannabis applications Mom came up with.
She glanced at Sherri and Rachiah who stared at their plates, picking at the dense patties. So much for help from that direction.
Cyan turned her attention to her own plate with its pooling golden syrup and the grayish lumpy sausage that wasn’t real sausage. Since she’d experienced meat at the university, she had a hard time enjoying much of the faux meat products she’d always had growing up. Her parents served up soy sausage with a questionable texture complete with black beans mixed in. The taste was nothing like the greasy, salty mess she’d enjoyed so much at the school cafeteria.
She sighed, picking at her breakfast while her injured arm hung limply in the makeshift splint. “I just want you to make him pay for what he’s doing to the wolves.” Her mumbled words lacked conviction. How had her ambition survived her childhood?
“Your shoulder will heal fine here or in Hawaii. Are you sure you don’t want to come with us? Girls?” Cyan’s mom turned from Cyan and questioned Sherri and Rachiah. “You can let your parents know I’ll get you tickets to be back before Christmas.” She shot her gaze between the three like she could convince them with a few bribes. “We’ll get the same cabana we had last time and I’m sure they have some other nice young people you can ‘hang’ with.” She smiled like they shared a secret.
The bribes usually worked, especially for the chance to go to Hawaii with Cyan. Sherri and Rachiah rarely turned down the chance when Cyan’s parents offered, but they glanced at Cyan before shaking their heads at her mom.
Rachiah covered for them both. “No, thank you, Mrs. Burns. My parents weren’t happy the last time I just up and left the continent. My mom wants me home to help with holiday stuff.” She stuffed a bite of the pseudo-sausage into her mouth to avoid more questions. Nothing else would’ve made her do it. Cyan was sure of that.
“I have my topic to research, too.” Sherri spoke around the fake meat. She always seemed entranced with the abundance of vegan fare always available at the Burns’ home, even complained once about gaining weight when she visited because she ate so much there.
Rachiah, on the other hand, usually lost weight.
“Oh, which one did you settle on, Sherri?” Cyan’s dad sipped his almond milk, tipping the glass toward Sherri when he spoke.
She leaned forward. “You know, I’m still torn between beetle endangerment and the cow flies that actually burrow under the skin of cows—”
Cyan shook her head, slicing her finger across her neck to cut Sherri off. Her mother would never recover, if Sherri took the topic as far as she was capable. Cyan had already heard every morbid detail over the last semester since they lived together and she had nightmares from their conversations. “I have stuff to do for my thesis, too, Dad. Remember? I’m working on the wolves.” She wasn’t surprised her parents were still going to the island for a winter holiday. She would too if she had nothing to do but waste money.
Her shoulder throbbed. She didn’t want to think about being at Burning Bush all by herself in the middle of the winter. She’d never be able to maintain the fires by herself.
She jerked her shoulder up in a shrug in reflex, making the throb start anew. “Dang it. I don’t know if I can take all the traveling anyway.” If she could get her parents to go without her, she could eat real food and even take real medicine. Maybe she’d sneak in and see a doctor, too.
Her dad didn’t argue, but nodded his head instead as he took another bite of his food. Sometimes Cyan wondered if he wished he could eat a big ole steak. After trying meat, she couldn’t go back to eating like her parents one-hundred-percent.
Especially after bacon. Her favorite was bacon.
“That’s fine. We’ll be back before Christmas then. Do you want us to hire someone to come in and decorate or do some housekeeping?” Her mom settled into her seat and spooned a bite of her grapefruit.
Cyan carefully shook her head. Who knew how much jostling her shoulder could handle. “No, thanks. We can do it.” She lifted her good hand and tossed her fork to the table, a sob wrenching free from her barely controlled exterior. “I still can’t believe he shot me.”
Rachiah sighed, but Sherri cut her off. “It’s not like he did it on purpose.”
“No? He wasn’t aiming at the trees. He was trying to shoot that wolf on purpose. That’s bad enough as far as I’m concerned. Too bad I got the bullet.” But her wound wasn’t that bad. She was upset huge about being shot, even as she couldn’t completely believe it, even as her shoulder burned from
the wound.
“What are you going to do about it? You heard what the lawyers said. There’s not much you can do. Did the sheriff ever make it out here?” Rachiah leaned over her abandoned plate. She refused to eat most of the soy products Cyan’s mom pushed on them and apparently she’d had enough that morning.
“No, but we pressed charges over the phone. The roads were blocked from the snow storm and there were a few accidents they had to deal with. We figured over the phone was good enough since we had no evidence he did it on purpose.” Cyan’s mom carefully spooned a section of pink meaty flesh from the partitioned sphere.
“Money is a strong motivator. I heard Kettleson offers a thousand dollar bonus for the first wolf pelt of the season.” Cyan’s dad pointed his fork at her. “We could counter that, but I’m not sure how to prove someone didn’t shoot a wolf, unless of course they miss the wolf and shoot someone else?” He chuckled at his own joke, and then glanced at his wife. “What? Too soon?”
She rolled her eyes and swatted her napkin at his hand.
Apparently Dad’s fibro was well maintained that morning. Cyan coughed, choking on her drink. Really? “Come on, girls.” They cleared their plates and waved to her parents as they disappeared downstairs to the mini-apartment Cyan’s parents had remodeled into the house for her.
Sherri and Rachiah flopped onto the large beanbag style seats in the center of the living room. Cyan gingerly sat on the edge of the futon.
Rubbing her stomach, Sherri groaned. “If I keep eating here, I’m going to gain so much weight. Those pancakes were amazing.”
“I can already feel my hips slimming.” Rachiah winked at Cyan and kicked Sherri softly on the ankle.
They fell silent at Cyan’s pensive mood.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Sherri yawned. “Are you still thinking about that cowboy? I would, too. He scooped you up and carried you to safety.” She winked at Cyan. “Like a dream come true.”
“No. I’m not.” But she was… a little bit. Cyan screwed her lips to the side. “Honestly? I think we need to get more evidence against Kettleson. I don’t know why he hasn’t been fined or something before now, but this is ridiculous.” She had to get her head on straight. Nothing like getting shot to throw your goals off.
Forbidden Trails: A Clearwater County Romance (The Montana Trails Series Book 2) Page 7