Keeping Our Home (Holliday Book 2)

by Sarah R. Silas

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  To Be Continued

  KEEPING OUR HOME

  Sarah R. Silas

  Copyright © 2016 Sarah R. Silas

  Cover design by Melody Simmons

  All rights reserved.

  This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

  No part of this book may be reproduced without express permission of the author.

  All characters and events depicted are fictional.

  CHAPTER ONE

  The sun rose over the mountains, golden light streaming past the peaks and through the stained, pitted, and nearly broken windows of Lilith's room. The sunlight bothered her eyes, and as she blearily opened them, she realized that waking up without an alarm clock, or at least waking up with the sun in her eyes, was ridiculously annoying.

  She sat up in bed, the events of the past couple days swirling in her mind, her waking brain considering the same thoughts as her sleeping one. Her back ached from laying on a centuries old couch, filled with dust and probably mites. She was doing the best she could with being home, but the letter from Boston had gotten her insides squirming about the possibility of leaving it all behind. And this time, she would miss it all very much. But the thoughts about building her life somewhere else, away from all the problems and memories were ever present. In her dreams and in her day dreams.

  With her father's revelation about his health, things became even more uncertain. She laid on her back, her hands behind her head, staring at the woodwork above her. She had moved away from the room with the hole in the ceiling, seeing as the room was never really going to dry out. The ceiling was covered in some kind of molding. It was decaying, paint peeling. She tried to count all the little flakes of paint that were coming up from the wood. They were probably full of lead, she thought. The house was against her, just as much as the world.

  What was she going to do about her father? What was there to do? He said it was inoperable and he said he was gonna do the chemo. Maybe, anyway. He had always been a stubborn man and nothing had really ever broken him. Not the death of their mother, that was certain. She realized that maybe, he wanted to die. What a morbid thought.

  She sat up, Granny Aggie's diary stiff and unforgiving under her pillow, much like the writer herself. That’s probably where her father got it from anyway. She had read more of the diary, tales of hard times with the ranch barely surviving until Aggie had made the hard decisions to keep it going through the lean years, through the depression, and even through gun fights. Aggie had been a tough woman, and Lilith had decided that maybe, like Aggie, she needed to take matters into her own hands.

  She swung her legs over the side of the couch, the cracked wooden floor cold against her bare feet. She needed to find out what the hell was going on with her father and there was only one place to get the records she needed: Doc Mulreedy’s office. She realized he probably wouldn't let her see the records, so she'd have to take a page out of Aggie's life and just surreptitiously read them.

  She forced herself to get up, but with one fell swoop the world felt too heavy and she fell back down on the couch. She sighed, her mind going back to Clark who still sat Sheriff Holt's lockup. She was a big girl, she knew that one fling didn't mean anything, but she was also sure it wasn't just a crush, because she knew that things were never that simple. Nothing can be that simple.

  With the revelation that he might be Ricky's murderer, that maybe all his explaining about his past was a lie and he just wasn’t able to control himself, it made her doubt her own feelings. And she knew that's how revelations were supposed to work, they were supposed to make you doubt. They were supposed to make you sit and ponder and wonder. And sitting on the bed now, that's exactly what was happening. Maybe she should focus that compartment of her mind on moving on, instead of wondering what Clark was doing at this moment? Besides, he was probably just sitting in the cell, waiting for a meal, or maybe even for someone to give him something to read. He was probably fine.

  Her dreams still seemed to feature him, usually on the ranch, with her in a pink dress. It was all very odd because she couldn’t figure out if her subconscious was trying to tell her something. It was enough of a depressing conundrum to push her deeper into the craggy couch and try to forget the world.

  She willed herself to get up, pushing herself up with her elbows, trying to ignore the pressure from the heavens that made her want to sit back down, and trudged to the bathroom. She turned on the shower, waiting for the hot water to find its way, twisting and turning through the house, until it finally made it to the far flung bathroom that she called her own.

  The hot water streamed over her shoulders, little brown rivulets of dirt washing down the drain. There was never a way to stop dirt from getting into every pore, it was a ranch after all. All she wanted, she thought, was to figure out a way to be certain about her future. Anything would work, from her career to her living situation, to maybe even a guy. But that wasn't going to happen yet. Perhaps, she thought, it was the wedding invitations that were bothersome. She had gotten an email from a med school girl, someone she barely knew, inviting her to her nuptials. After Lilith read it, a small knot of envy curled ever tighter inside her gut.

  She stayed in the shower for longer than usual, trying to count the minutes, straining her ears for her father leaving the house on his daily rounds of the ranch. She didn't want to see him, because at the end of the day, just seeing his face would make her want to stay here.

  She tried to stop herself from thinking it, tried to stop the tears from rolling down her face. But she couldn't. Her eyes squeezed shut as the tears squeezed through. She knew she couldn't watch him die.

  Maybe it would be easier if she left. Maybe everything would be easier if she wasn't here.

  ~~~

  She saw her father's taillights and the dust cloud as he drove towards the back gate. She poured coffee into a thermos, deciding that she had to get to Doc Mulreedy's as soon as possible. She didn't have a key, but she had a strange feeling that he probably left the back door unlocked anyway. Small towns were generally safe, or at least, it was easy to find the perpetrator.

  That was one of the reasons why she was scared for Clark, or perhaps more or less certain that the evidence would prove him guilty. This wasn't a big city, there weren't that many suspects, and none of them were big criminals anyway.

  She grabbed her keys from a hall table, twirled them around her finger and did her best to swagger out of the house. She had to confidently reclaim her life because that's what still being alive meant. New revelations on how to live her life were coming from Aggie's diaries, and she was happy to have them.

  She walked out to her truck, waving to Marty who was driving out towards the South Pasture, when she realized that a car was coming up the long gravel road. It was a bright yellow Hummer that raised a massive dust cloud as it practically raced through the ranch. Whoever it was, she was going to scold them for being so reckless.

  The Hummer, and its over confident driver, stopped in front of the house, a few feet away from Lilith. She stood aggressively in front of her truck, ready to confront the driver. She wasn't going to abandon her home when a foreign invader was practically endangering it.

  A clean shaven, strong jawed man hopped out of the Hummer. He was impeccably dressed with a suit, tie, and silver tie clip. The shine on his shoes was nearly blinding and the
smile that he flashed Lilith was similarly bright. Lilith thought he looked awfully like a human peacock, but she couldn't deny that he was good looking. He waved at her and walked over, taking her hand in a big and yet gentle handshake. "Zeke Hunter. You must be Lilith Holliday. 'Scuse. I meant, Doctor Lilith Holliday," he said.

  "Yeah, that's me," she replied. His hands were large, strong, and soft. He was clearly not used to a hard day's work, but she found herself looking over his strong shoulders, wide chest, and nape of his neck where he had missed a couple strands of stubble. "It's a small town Mr. Hunter and I don't know how you know me. Kinda worrisome, don't you agree?" she asked, releasing his hand and then immediately regretting it. It had felt solid and good. She couldn't explain some of her feelings about these things.

  "I apologize Dr. Holliday, but I thought that perhaps a face to face meeting would be more appropriate than something over the phone," he replied.

  "A cold call isn't necessarily appropriate. But I suppose I'll have to know your business. Are you here for some cattle?"

  "You could say that," he said. He put his hand on his brow, looking over the property and mountains. "It's a beautiful piece of property. How long has your family owned it?"

  "Long time, Mr. Hunter. Please state your business." Her response surprised even her. Aggie was melding into her in some way. But here Lilith was, being brash and standing taller. It felt good.

  "Would you like to go inside and talk?" asked Zeke. He had his thumbs in his belt loops.

  "Depends on what the hell you want, I suppose." Something was definitely changing in her. And she liked it.

  "Well, Doctor Holliday. I've just flown in from San Francisco. I own a company out there, and I was hoping to purchase your ranch," he replied, staring at her.

  "You want to purchase Holliday Ranch?"

  "I suppose I'd have to rename it," he said, laughing.

  She stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to respond to what she was being told. She stood silently, trying to piece together what was going on. There was a man in front of her, who had decided to travel here from California, to buy the ranch. Her father was dying, the man she had more than a crush on was in jail, and she might be leaving for Boston soon. She nodded to herself. "Why don't you come on inside and I'll make another pot of coffee."

  "Splendid," he said, turning to follow her.

  Her father, she thought, was not going to be happy about this turn of events.

  ~~~

  "So, what do you do exactly?" asked Lilith, brushing the hair from the sides of her face. She had found herself staring into his blue eyes, their perfect circles, watery and yet full of life.

  "I started a company when I was fresh out of college, and then it was bought out from under me, for quite frankly, more money than it was worth," he said, chuckling. His white teeth flashed every time he opened his mouth. He either cared for his teeth, or cared for his vanity. "And then, I knew I hated running a company, so instead I took the money and went into venture capital. And so here I am. I invested in some big name companies, and I'm about to turn 30 and I wanna buy myself a present for all this hard work."

  "And by present, you mean..."

  "Yeah, this property."

  "Alright, before we go any further, you need to understand. This isn't a property, this is a cattle ranch. And one with pedigree and history that's intertwined not only in the state of Montana, but in my family," she said.

  "I promise you the paycheck that I'll give you will make you forget all about pedigree," he said, smirking, before he caught himself. "I apologize, that was rude. I didn't mean it like that."

  "Yeah, why don't you try that again."

  "Well, I did the math in my head, and with just the cattle, you're running short on the property. Your father is probably trying different schemes, and quite frankly, it might work, it might not. I will give you a more than fair price for this property. I mean, cattle ranch."

  "I was supposed to be somewhere by now, but do you plan on continuing the ranch operations?" she asked. She needed to get to Doc Mulreedy's office. If she was in the office when he wasn't around, someone in town might suspect something. It wasn't common knowledge that she had been offered his practice. He was a tight lipped bastard, that was at least something she could count on. She stood up, motioning for Zeke to leave his coffee mug on the table.

  "Well, I was going to use it as sort of a private getaway," he said, smiling widely again. "I might keep the cattle operation going, it would help if the property, I mean ranch, paid for some of its upkeep."

  She walked him outside and to his Hummer, patting the yellow hood. "Well, why don't you get back in your pseudo military vehicle and go back to California and stop insulting me," she heard herself say. She almost bit her tongue. He could be her way out of having to stay in Montana. And having to keep up the ranch after her father passed. This man could be her golden ticket and she was ruining it. She quietly cursed Aggie.

  He opened the driver door, clearly rebuked. But instead he turned around. "Ya know, I'm going to be in town for a few days. How about I take you out to dinner, wherever is good around here. Or maybe away from here. Wherever. I'll take you out to dinner and I try this entire thing again?" He moved slightly and put his hand on hers. "Eh? I'm sorry if I came off a little brash. Old habits."

  She stared at him for a moment, getting lost in his eyes, his warm hand against hers. Thoughts of the other night with Clark floated in her head, and her sexuality coiled tighter, still not really satiated. "Alright," she whispered.

  He flashed his smile again and gave her his card. "Can I trust you to call me, or should I drop by again?"

  She took the card and put in her breast pocket. "Yeah, I'll call ya." Maybe she would, she thought, maybe she wouldn't. But there was something alluring about him, that maybe a dinner could finally rid her of. A free dinner, and the hopeful knowledge that he was just a cute piece of shit. She didn't have anything else going on. And now that she basically turned down a buyout, she would have to think pretty hard about what the hell was going on with Boston.

  He got into his car, nodded at her, and drove off through the ranch, gathering speed as he went.

  She cursed, watching his taillights go down the long gravel road. She hadn't scolded him for his driving.

  ~~~

  She hadn’t come home a lot, but this time was far more eventful than any other time. She didn't like it. Events should be fun. But instead, this was just more stress. When her father would find out about Zeke, he would go ballistic. And if he found out she had, basically, agreed to a date? She might as well pack her bags for Boston now.

  She sighed as she drove down the long gravel road, taking a left on the main road and heading for town. She didn't even know if her father was telling the truth about whatever was happening to his insides. Doc Mulreedy's files would have the answer. Her father and Doc always traded barbs, but in the end there was years of built up respect between the two of them.

  Her mind flitted back to Zeke, his hands, his eyes, and the way that he confidently swaggered through life. Was his life more real or valid than hers? Hers was definitely more newfound, probably through some ghost woman on the ranch. If there was ever a woman to haunt her home, it would be Aggie. She chuckled to herself.

  Passing the roadhouse, she wondered what Keith might be doing. His bike wasn't outside, but it probably might be there when she would head home. She didn't know if she wanted to see him again, especially considering how drastically he had changed. Maybe she'd check up on him later.

  Pistol had messaged her, letting her know that he had found a job on one of the nearby ranches. They didn't know anything about his history with the Hollidays, and Lilith had agreed to pick up the call if they wanted to question her as a reference. She didn't know if she wanted him on the ranch anyway, especially considering what she had learned about his drug use.

  Yes, he was a good friend. Yes, she wanted to help him. But having him on the ranch again would turn in
to her responsibility. It would turn into watching over him and making sure that everything was copacetic on a day to day basis. She couldn't ask anyone else to do that, definite not her father. Marty had enough on his plate and she didn't want to burden him with taking care of Pistol.

  Marty and Pistol had a weird relationship anyway. She had the suspicion that they might become friends now that she was back in town. It would be an odd pairing, but they might work well as best friends. They both definitely needed more people in their lives, even if neither of them was all that stable. But, Marty would be a good influence on Pistol.

  She knew she had to check up on Pistol before she left. A proper check up, she reminded herself. She had to go visit wherever he was living, find out if everything was ok, and try to help out in whatever way a friend was supposed to. She'd probably bring Marty, as a way of coaxing their friendship along.

  She chuckled, she might come back and find out they'd gotten married. Pistol being gay would be a hilarious turn of events, she realized. And, it would seriously throw her gaydar off.

  She slid into the parking lot in front of Doc Mulreedy's. His dusty beat-to-shit truck along with a few others stood in front of the building. She got out of her truck, shot a quick message to Pistol, telling him good luck on the new job and walked inside.

  ~~~

  "You don't really get it, do you? Take your fucking pills, you stupid fucking idiot. Take your fucking pills so I don't have to see you again for a long fucking time," said Doc Mulreedy, using his cigarette butt to light a new one. "I don't enjoy seeing you Harry. Believe it or not, I'd rather be fuckin' elsewhere rather than looking at your pasty ass and hearing your bullshit excuses. You wanna die? Tell me. Do you wanna die?"

  "I dunno Doc. I've been thinkin--"

  "No, Harry. The answer is a big fat fuckin' no. You don't wanna die. Repeat that." Doc Mulreedy's ash fell on the floor, mixing with the years old cigarette remains that were already there. He smashed his boot over it, rubbing it into the fibers.