by Lexie Ray
“What do you think happened?” Paisley asked, her face drawn with worry. “Maybe something made them panic and stampede, knocking everything down?”
“No.” I held up a length of barbed wire, careful to keep my bare hands away from the actual barbs. “Look at the end of this.” The piece I was holding had a rusty patina from being exposed to the elements, but its end was filed to a shiny, new point, as if someone had been sawing away at it with a pocketknife.
“It’s cut?” She absorbed this information for a few long moments. “But who would do such a thing?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Bored kids?”
“They’d know better. That’s just not done here.”
“People interested in seeing this operation fail?”
Paisley didn’t have anything to say to that. She knew just as well as I did that there were plenty of people interested in that — Bud Billings, in particular — but it was a dangerous thing to accuse anyone of cattle thievery or sabotage without explicit proof. It didn’t even make sense for Billings to be interested in that kind of crime. He had more than enough cattle and money.
“We have to do something,” she said. “This is horrible.”
“What is there that we can do?” I asked. “The ranch is huge, and we’re thin in numbers. This is a losing game whether any of us are willing to admit it or not.”
“Some of us aren’t willing to admit it because we still have faith in this place,” Paisley fired back. “Don’t you dare suggest we just roll over and take this.”
“Who are you going to accuse?” I asked. “Be realistic.”
“I don’t have to accuse anyone at this point. What I can do is deter.”
“Deter?”
“We’ll schedule chaperones for the herd at all hours,” she said. “It’s that simple. Do you think if anyone was out here last night whoever stole into here would’ve felt confident doing it?”
She had a point, but my stomach turned over the idea of overnighting with the herd. I spent my entire day on the ranch. Did I really have to start giving up my nights, too?
“You hate the idea of putting forth even a little extra effort to protect this place,” Paisley said, studying my face. “You want it to fail, don’t you?”
We’d had this conversation before, but not with everything at stake. Our marriage had perhaps only staved off what I believed to be inevitable: the fall of the ranch. It had to happen one of these days. If it wasn’t bank loans it was drought. If it wasn’t drought it was attempts at buyouts. If it wasn’t that it was wildfire. Sometimes, it seemed like every single thing in the world was against us succeeding, but I knew I was at the head of that pile. I honestly didn’t want to see us succeed because I didn’t want to be here anymore.
“Your silence tells me everything I need to know.” Paisley wheeled her horse around.
“Wait!” I couldn’t let her go like this, so I said the first thing that popped into my mind. “I love you.”
Both of us froze at that. Maybe it was true. I’d loved her even more now that I understood her.
But then she shattered every illusion I might’ve held about our marriage.
“Why the hell would you go and say a thing like that?” she asked, staring at me.
I swallowed hard, then put my heart right on out there. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I love you.”
“But the timing. The timing is why I’m really curious.”
“Is there a bad time for those kinds of revelations?” I asked, confused. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“I’m trying to figure out why now. Why, right now, have you decided that you think you love me?”
She was so exasperated that I almost backed down, but I couldn’t anymore. I had to be honest with her.
“You’re so strong,” I said. “I’ve seen you deal with such adversity. You’ve been very … surprising, Paisley, all of the things you know how to do. All of the things that make you the person you are.”
“I gave you a chance to get to know me,” she said. “I gave you multiple chances.”
“I know you did. I’m sorry it took me this long.”
“Here’s the thing, Avery,” she said. “I don’t know if you intended it or not — I certainly didn’t intend for it to happen — but I’ve finally stumbled upon an arrangement to this marriage I can live with.”
“And what arrangement is that?”
She shrugged. “We’re not lying to each other. Our marriage is as intact as it’s probably ever going to get, and I’m going to be frank — I enjoy my freedom.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that I used to worry about what you thought, what you felt, and now I don’t,” she said. “I cared about keeping house, about trying to make my home your home, too, but I don’t anymore. I cared about vows and promises and all that bullshit, but I don’t anymore. Aren’t you relieved?”
I blinked at her. “I don’t think relieved is the word I’d use to describe it, no.”
“Well, you should be,” she said, the chipper tone of voice she was using belying her sarcasm. “Because we fought a lot back when I cared. Isn’t it nice that we’re not fighting?”
“We’re not fighting because we never see each other Paisley,” I said. “That doesn’t mean our relationship has enjoyed an uptick in positivity.”
“I’ve felt pretty positive about it,” she said. “You’re having your fun, and I’m having mine.”
“I don’t go to the bar anymore,” I said.
“Oh?” She was the very picture of polite. “I was kind of wondering why I haven’t seen you there lately. Do you have a new spot?”
“You know full well the bar’s the only place in town. I just go home after the ranch.”
“To the trailer?”
“No, home.” I fought to stay patient. “Our home.”
“Oh, my father’s home?” she asked, feigning surprise. “That’s so interesting. I really thought you preferred your bachelor pad.”
“Paisley, can’t we stop this? Can’t we drop whatever it is we’re doing and talk to each other — really talk?”
She was off her horse and down on the ground faster than I expected, her finger in my face, her face furious.
“No. No, Avery, you don’t get to fucking do this.”
“Do what?”
“This.” She poked her finger into the center of my forehead and screwed it around. “You don’t get to play these little mind games with me.”
“I’m not playing games with you,” I said, frustrated. “I love you. That’s true. I’m sorry for all of this. I’m sorry for making things bad. You were right. Everything you said and did was right. I was the one who was wrong.”
“You don’t get to just decide you love me one day,” she said. “That’s not fucking fair. You have jerked me around for months.”
“I know I have. I’m trying to tell you that I’m sorry.”
“And what do you want me to do?” she asked. “Do you want me to just collapse in your arms, suck your cock, and tell you all is forgiven?”
“I don’t expect any of that,” I said, holding my hands up defensively. “I don’t expect anything. I’m telling you with no expectations that I love you. I have loved you. I resisted loving you because I was forced into it. At least that’s how I felt. And I’m sorry that I caused you so much pain.”
“Okay.” Paisley leveled a look at me. “Is that infuriating?”
“What?”
“Answering entire diatribes with ‘okay.’” She stuck her chin out. “Sucks, doesn’t it?”
“I said that to you because I didn’t know how I was supposed to respond to some of the things you were saying,” I said. “I still don’t. We’re kind of dancing around each other here, Paisley.”
“Agreed. We are.”
“So you want to continue our marriage like before,” I said. “Separate. Even though there have been significant changes between us
since then.”
“Yep. Pretty much.” She looked at me for a few minutes, like she expected me to contradict her.
“I respect whatever decision you make,” I said. “You deserve to do whatever you need to do to stay in this marriage. Because you are important to me, Paisley Summers. Maybe the ranch isn’t important to me. But you are.”
“The ranch is my life,” she said. “It’s the reason behind everything I do. If you don’t love the ranch, Avery, then don’t bother trying to love me.”
With that, she was back up on her horse, and I was left to follow and ponder all the various ways I’d fucked up recently. They were too many to count.
I started back toward the barn at a trot, but when my phone buzzed, I goaded the horse into a canter without even having to glance at the display. I knew it was Chance, and I knew he was calling a meeting.
I arrived with the last of the Summers ranch hands, gathering in the barn. I looked around for Paisley, but if she was in there, I couldn’t find her.
“Thanks for getting here so quickly,” Chance said, eyeing everyone. There should’ve been more of us to man this ranch, but this handful was all we could ask for. “We’re looking at a mass cattle theft. We’ll start night chaperones effective immediately. Everyone will be expected to carry a gun.”
Chapter 9
It seemed that everyone in this family knew their way around a gun except for me. Dad had taught Chance, using BBs and cans as ammo and targets, when he turned sixteen. Tucker had learned in the police academy, and Emmett just seemed naturally gifted at it, probably reading a book or article somewhere and instantly absorbing all of the knowledge into his brain to be locked away forever, only brought out in times of need. I watched him secure his hair on top of his head before taking apart a pistol and cleaning it as if he did that exact process at least twice a week, every single week.
Who knew what went through Emmett’s head sometimes? Maybe he really did practice with it.
“Don’t be nervous,” Hunter cajoled, handing me a shotgun. “It’s easy.”
“Easy for you to say it’s easy,” I said, wondering why it was so damn heavy, how I was supposed to heave it up to my shoulder in a moment’s notice.
“You just have to practice at it,” he said. “Look, here’s the safety switch.”
It chapped my ass to have my baby brother showing me the ropes on operating the shotgun, but I supposed there was no better teacher than a former Marine.
“Do we really have to have all these guns around?” Hadley asked, shifting her weight from foot to foot as we ransacked the gun safe. “It looks like you all are going to war.”
“We are, in a way,” Hunter reasoned. “We probably should’ve all been carrying them already, especially when we’re with the herd.”
“Do you all not?” Tucker asked, befuddled. “I always do. Coyotes. And instant access if we have to cull one of the cattle.”
“I just don’t think I can get used to carrying this around while I’m riding,” I said, hefting the weapon in my hands. “It’s heavier than it looks. What am I supposed to do? Balance it across my lap at a gallop?”
“Dad had an old scabbard,” Chance said. “That should work, if we can find it.”
“A scabbard? For a sword?” This was getting positively medieval.
“For the shotgun,” Chance said crossly. “You can attach it to the saddle. That’s how you’d store it.”
“It seems like this is more trouble than it’s worth,” I said. “I’d prefer not to carry a gun.”
“But what are you going to do if you run into trouble out there?” Hunter asked. “Keep the shotgun. Even if you don’t fire it, you’ll at least frighten off any cattle thieves.”
“Or I’ll shoot my foot off,” I muttered. Here was yet another way I didn’t fit in to this damn family. Everyone was all about embracing their Second Amendment rights except for me. I’d never so much as pulled the trigger on any of these guns. It didn’t matter how long they’d been in our family.
“I don’t like guns, either,” Hadley offered, sidling up to me, evidently identifying with my horrified body language. “You’re not the only one.”
“That’s because you’re a city girl,” Hunter said, snaking his arm around her waist and giving her a kiss.
She snorted. “You’ve seen my hometown. It’s the opposite of city. No one can afford guns, there, so they just use their fists.”
“That’s my girl.” He kissed her, and I rolled my eyes. Hunter and Hadley adored each other. Everyone got it. They didn’t have to mash their faces together at every opportunity to remind everyone how much in love they were with each other.
“Where’s Paisley?” Hadley asked, frowning. “Isn’t she supposed to be here?”
I shrugged, my stomach curdling a little bit to recall the latest fight we’d had. Maybe it would be the last of them. Paisley and I entered into our marriage like it was a business contract and we hadn’t grown any bit more compatible. Maybe it would be best if we just stayed separated forever, each of us pursuing the things that we actually wanted.
“Well, when you see her, ask her about carrying guns while out with the cattle,” Hunter recommended. “All of the Summers guys already do it.”
If my baby brother was trying to be helpful, it wasn’t working. I didn’t want to hear about being the only ranch hand who didn’t care to tote a weapon around. It was complete and total alienation. I didn’t have the passion for ranching like my brothers, couldn’t get along with the woman I’d married to save our operation, couldn’t even measure up to hired ranch hands, didn’t know where I was or what I was supposed to be doing in this world. Why was this so easy for everyone else?
“Do we have any volunteers for first watch?” Chance asked the group at large who were still examining firearms.
“I’ll do it,” I said after a long pause. Emmett was usually the first to jump to volunteer, but Hadley wasn’t letting him back on a horse yet. He was still recovering from his gorge mishap.
“Thanks for your initiative, Avery,” Chance said, looking at me a little suspiciously. Sure, I was the last one to volunteer, but frustration had got the better of me. It would be hell sitting around, wondering where Paisley was tonight, worrying about the kind of scene she might make if I tried to get her from the bar again. I might as well be busy, immersing myself in a chaperoning expedition instead of dwelling on all the ways my marriage had gone wrong.
“The scabbard goes like this, see?” Chance said, threading a few leather straps through my saddle. “And the shotgun fits right into it. There.”
I mounted the horse gently, afraid I’d do something to set the trigger off that would murder me or the horse or both.
“I don’t really like it,” I said. “It feels weird against my leg.”
“Tough shit,” Tucker said, not a bit sympathetic as he walked over to check my progress. “You need the gun, Avery. It’s your only protection out there.”
“One of the Summers guys is going to go with you,” Chance said, making sure the safety switch was on the shotgun. “He’ll meet you by the herd later.”
“How will I know he’s not there to steal the cattle?” I joked weakly.
“You’ll open your eyes and recognize him,” Chance said, scowling. “Don’t shoot any of our guys, Avery, or any of the herd.”
“I’m not that hopeless,” I said, even though I doubted the veracity of that statement.
“Be safe out there,” Hunter offered, and I spurred my horse into the night.
Right away, the gallop didn’t work. The scabbard shattered my confidence and balance, and the horse noticed, slowing to a trot.
“Let’s stop by the trailer,” I muttered to myself. “I have some extra cargo I need to jettison.”
I wouldn’t need the shotgun. What were the chances of cattle thieves striking two times in a row? If they were smart at all, they would’ve figured that we’d notice thirty head of cattle gone the next morning and deci
de not to go for broke.
With the shotgun and scabbard safely stashed in the trailer, I was back to my confident self. It had been a long time since I’d ridden at night, but I trusted the horse. I didn’t have any choice otherwise, hoping that its skitters and little jumps were away from real threats and not its active imagination.
The ranch in the dark, the seething herd of cattle, was really something. My eyes had long since adjusted to the sliver of moon and the innumerable stars, but the herd seemed to be something large and alive. The herd was restless shuffling around as one being, cows lowing quietly into the night. I wondered if there might be coyotes working around to get them into such a stressed out state, but I didn’t hear any of the telltale yipping.
“You all are fine,” I told the nearest cow, as if she could convey that sentiment to the rest of the herd. “Wouldn’t it be better to be asleep right now instead of walking around and chatting?”
I was answered by a sharp and an impact that sent me scrambling to dismount the horse. The herd shifted wildly in panic, and I only stayed upright and not trampled because I was holding on to my horse’s reins. My shoulder throbbed deeply, insistently, and I touched it, trying to figure out what happened.
“Stop running,” I hissed at the cattle. “Stop mooing. Shut up a second.”
They didn’t listen to me — they never did — but I was able to hear gallops of shoed horses against the hard ground over the cows scattering.
“You’re trespassing and breaking the law!” I shouted, hoping they’d hear me over the panicked herd. “You will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. They used to hang fucks like you for shit like this!”
Jesus. My shoulder was really hurting. I took my hand away from it, dimly registering that the darkness I was seeing was blood. I was bleeding. My shoulder was bleeding.
“What the fuck,” I murmured, touching it again. The throb had transformed into a full-out scream of pain, and that’s when it finally clicked that I’d been shot.
“Okay, that’s fine,” I coached myself. “Just a shoulder. You can ride with a shoulder.”