Guilt Ridden

by Marie Johnston

  Her emotions in that regard didn’t matter. Because as she looked at the devastation, she knew it’d only be a minor setback for his family. Cash had monitored his cattle and kept them safe. It she’d had any livestock, she’d have been at work and they’d have either succumbed to the fire and smoke, or busted through the gate and gotten miles away before she even untied her apron.

  The Walkers would have this fence fixed in a few weeks at the most. Just like they’d hauled the cars out in a few days. They could even have planted a crop in the empty fields.

  A hot tear rolled down her cheek.

  What had she been thinking? If you can’t do it right, kid, why do it at all?

  Yes, Dad. Why do it at all when she didn’t really want to? Kambria would be coming home soon, and what if Ben’s parents started in on how her daughter was alone too much? What if they—

  Kami closed her eyes. She’d never voiced this fear, but it’d always been there, festering. What if they started lobbying for how good the schools were in Normandy? How they could take her to school and pick her up, even afford gymnastics on top of it.

  She seethed with anger just anticipating it.

  She was not going to give up on Kambria.

  But in order to keep the most important thing in her life, she couldn’t be selfish. At the same time, she couldn’t let fear stop her. She’d abandoned her plans so easily when another option had come by, a “safer” choice.

  That choice went up in flames. It was time to face her future.

  Trudging back to her old pickup, she stared at her booted feet. Her last weekend alone where she could wallow in all the self-pity she wanted before Kambria came back. Then they could plan school shopping and… Kami gulped. Look for a small house to buy with Ben’s life insurance.

  She slid inside the pickup and started it. Yep. No matter what, that money was going to the betterment of Kambria’s life. That was what Ben had intended.

  Driving slowly back home, she let her decisions sink in. They gutted her, but they were right. Maybe if she would’ve tried last summer, but the life’s lessons pressed upon her this summer destroyed her. She had to think with a mother’s mind, not a wishful little girl.

  Because what if she couldn’t parent right?

  ***

  Her mom gaped at her.

  Kami twisted her hands together. They stood at the base of the porch. Mom was just heading into town, probably for Doc’s place, as was her usual routine on the weekends.

  Kami took a deep breath and plowed forward with her explanation. “I don’t think the Walkers will play hardball because of the fire. If they want to drop the price of the property, I’ll make up the difference, I promise.”

  Mom narrowed her eyes on her. “If those boys try to do that, they can take my offer and bury it under the manure pile.”

  “But you need to sell.”

  “I don’t need to do a damn thing.”

  Kami’s brows lifted. Mom’s tone was both adamant and defensive. “Don’t you want to sell?”

  “Yes. I’m sick of toiling through winter only to drive past well-maintained Walker land and massive fields on my way to this dump. It used to be nice. Back when I had the stamina to care for it and before—” She clamped her mouth shut.

  “Before what?” Don’t quit on me. They didn’t share much, and it was like her mom was dangerously close to confiding in her.

  Mom glanced away and scrubbed a hand over her face. “Before your father trashed it.”

  “Why’d you let him?” Why? Why had Dad had so much power over Mom when no one else got to her?

  “Because this place was mine before he was around, and it was mine after. I wasn’t going to lose one bit of it in a divorce, because you and I both know he would’ve fought over it just to fight.”

  Totally. Her parents not getting along wasn’t news, but that Mom had so much bitterness over it was. “Then why’d you marry him?”

  “Why’d you marry Ben?”

  Kami stared at her. Mom hadn’t uttered a single argument against Ben. “I know you think it was because I was pregnant—”

  “No,” Mom interrupted. “I think being pregnant made you consider the idea, and I think you wanted to prove me wrong. Ultimately, I think you were too scared to do anything else. Lord knows your father never did a thing to build up your confidence.”

  Ditto, Mother. “I could’ve handled raising Kambria alone, though Ben would’ve never let me do it by myself.” He probably would’ve moved to Moore to be close to his kid.

  “Could you really? You’re thinking like a woman who’s been raising a kid on her own for two years now.” Mom floated down to perch on the first step. “Not many people knew I was pregnant when I got married.”

  “Wait—you were?” She knew she was born less than a year later. Had they lied about the date?

  “Not with you. I miscarried shortly after we tied the knot.” She let out a gusty sigh. “But it was already done. We charged forward, and you came along. By then, Earl had his ideas for what he was going to do, and he did it no matter what I said. I should’ve listened to everyone.”

  She hated to ask. Speaking ill of Dad smacked too much of betrayal. “What were they saying?”

  Mom snorted, her mouth curling in a wry grin. “That a man as old as he was still living with his parents wasn’t going to make a good husband. I ignored them. He helped his parents a great deal. But they were the ones that taught him not to bother with anything if it wasn’t done perfectly.”

  “He was a perfectionist,” she agreed.

  “He was the sloppiest perfectionist I’ve ever seen.” She paused a heartbeat, a crease forming between her brows. “That’s why I didn’t tell you right away that I was selling.”

  “Because no one could live up to Dad’s expectations?”

  “No. Because I didn’t want to see you stuck out here, losing hope because it’s not going the way you envisioned, then have you appear in front of a Justice of the Peace to marry Austin, or someone you didn’t really love, who didn’t really respect you. I didn’t want that for you, and I certainly don’t want the tradition to continue with Kambria.”

  “Mom!” Outrage sifted through her but faded fast. What would she have done those times without Travis’s help? If she’d been left on her own, with no money, improper equipment, and unsafe living conditions, a proposal from Austin might’ve equaled the perfect solution.

  “I’ve been there, Kami. It has nothing to do with being a woman, but everything to do with having a support system, and that’s something you and I lack. I couldn’t do much for you, but when you came out here asking about me selling, I thought, well, maybe it was all I could do for you. Kambria loves it out here. She would’ve been the fourth generation. Breaks my heart to think she won’t get to play with cats, have horses, or run and jump fences. But none of that helps her grow into a confident young woman who won’t hand her future to another out of fear and desperation.”

  “I loved Ben.” Everything Mom said rung true, but she had to get that point across. Ben might’ve seemed like a last-ditch effort, and maybe he was, but he wasn’t a mistake.

  “So did I. He was a good kid.” Mom’s voice shook. “When I saw how he treated you, I couldn’t not love him. I still worried about you. You seemed frustrated, unsatisfied.”

  “It was normal couple issues. He made me happy. His family didn’t.”

  Mom rose in one swift move, only wincing a little as her knees fully straightened. “Don’t you let them trot all over you. Don’t you let them push you around. They aren’t your Earl.” Kami was caught between shock at her mom’s defense and the complete venom over Dad. Mom must’ve noticed. “He was a bad husband, but he wasn’t a terrible father. Don’t let my opinion of him taint your good memories. But do know, he didn’t help you with his constant capitulation.”

  “You’re okay with me giving up?” Kami asked quietly.

  “It’s for the right reasons. You wouldn’t be taking away fr
om Kambria all the things you want to give her by coming out here.” Mom laid a hand on each shoulder. Kami froze. This was almost affection, and it was more than Mom had ever shown. “Don’t you dare let anyone tell you that you aren’t a good mom. I know these last six weeks were hard for you without her. Yes, it was a great opportunity, but so’s the summer with her own damn mom. Don’t let them push you. Period.”

  Kami should’ve burst into tears at her mother’s declaration, but a fierceness as swift as the prairie fire raced through her. She was good enough for her own daughter. Which meant she was good enough for herself. And she wouldn’t tolerate anyone thinking she was less than, either. Even if she was single her entire life.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Travis watched Cash and Dillon as they paged through the documents. They stood by the decrepit barn at the English’s place—now their place, the first expansion of Walker land in decades. They were breaking from emptying the barn before they tore it down.

  “The plans she drew up for a sheep ranch are solid.” Why was he bothering? He probably lost them at the word sheep.

  Cash’s hands were on his hips. “They might be, but we’re cattle ranchers, not mutton busters.”

  “A mutton buster is a kid riding a sheep at the rodeo,” Travis said evenly. “This is not a kid’s game.”

  “We didn’t say it was.” Dillon kept his tone calm, even, like he was trying to prevent an argument from breaking out. “We aren’t disregarding her plans. They would’ve worked for her, but not for us. Cattle is our business, and we have the opportunity to grow. We can expand at least two hundred head, not to mention have enough land to grow our own silage. With Justin working for us…”

  Cash nodded. “If Justin sticks around, we can actually purchase more cattle. Hell, he could build out here and ranch two herds and I wouldn’t be so torn between locations.”

  Travis’s first instincts were to argue about all the reasons why Justin shouldn’t live out here. That was Kami’s dream. Had been her dream.

  What was she doing now? He hadn’t crossed paths with her in the month they’d had the land. He’d even went out a few times with the guys, hoping to spot her, dreading that she’d be back with Austin. But no luck. He fell short of being labeled a stalker by not going into the restaurant she worked at.

  But if he didn’t appease his need to lay eyes on her, he might have to conjure a reason to eat out in the middle of the day.

  “I don’t know if Justin knows what he wants.” Hopefully it wasn’t to live out here with a bunch of cows.

  “If he doesn’t, we can hire someone else,” Dillon suggested.

  Cash and Travis stared at him. The idea of hiring non-family working on the Walker Five was just…weird.

  Dillon shrugged. “We’re growing, our families are growing, and that’s just with spouses. When kids start coming, we aren’t going to want to work fourteen-hour days all week.”

  Travis would. What else was he going to do? Develop his second game. Then a third. A fourth. Rake in the money. Or not. And still be alone. Doing a job he used to love but now felt like monotonous drudgery. Working with his cousins used to be the highlight of this career, but now it highlighted the emptiness.

  Maybe that was why he couldn’t give up on Kami’s woolly dream. “I don’t want you to brush off the idea of sheep just because we’ve only ever done cattle. Look at the numbers. Each sheep would bring in one and a half times what we put into it. We don’t get that return on investment from cows. Just like the cattle buffer the bad years in farming, sheep would buffer the bad years of cattle prices. Remember when we bought those black angus for twenty-three hundred dollars a head and the going rate dropped to thirteen fifty? An eight-hundred-dollar loss per cow. I don’t think sheep will swing like that.”

  Dillon eyed him with that concerned gaze of his. The one where he was wondering if he should bring something up, or wait. Travis knew the look and his frustration and irritation grew.

  Cash, like usual, didn’t hold back. “Are you sure it’s because you don’t want to brush off Kami? You lost her, and this is how you’re trying to hang on.”

  Travis spun to face him, straining to hold in his outburst. “I don’t know. You tell me, you all seem to know.” He tapped the screen of the tablet. “Look at the numbers. Worst case scenario, we do it for five years, find out we hate everything to do with sheep, then we can sell and use the funds to expand cattle.”

  Dillon nodded slowly, his gaze wary and darting to Travis’s fists. “We don’t want to make business decisions based off you losing Kami. Losing Michelle—”

  “I lost Michelle long before that,” he snapped, then stepped back. It was one thing to confess to Kami about that night, but another to tell his cousins what happened. What would they think of him?

  “What do you mean?” Dillon asked. “You two were engaged.”

  He opened his mouth to backtrack. Yes, they were. It was grief talking, he’d meant nothing.

  Turned out, he didn’t care what his cousins thought of him. If they labeled him a heartless asshole, so be it, but his silence had hurt Kami. Michelle was gone. His impending breakup was no more and couldn’t hurt her. Her parents were a different story. The rest of his family should know the truth.

  “I went to Fargo to break up with her. Only she had passed away by the time I arrived.” He’d done it. Now he waited for judgment.

  Cash opened his mouth, shut it.

  Dillon’s expression didn’t change, as if he didn’t believe what he’d heard. “You were going to break up with her the night she died?”

  Travis nodded. He and Michelle had broken up before, but it’d always been her idea and his cousins had helped him pick up the scattered pieces of his heart.

  “Why?” Cash asked.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” At least he assumed, based on his history with Michelle. “How long would that have lasted, and would I even have gone through with it. Yes. I’d agonized over it, but only because I knew it was the end. She wasn’t moving out here. I wasn’t moving there. After the last year of our relationship, I just didn’t love her anymore. Not like that.”

  “Do her parents know?” Cash glanced at him. “No, of course not. You’re always so aware of people’s feelings, you wouldn’t have told them.”

  “You, too?” Did everyone think he was a people-pleaser? That he let others dictate his actions like he wasn’t a grown-ass man? “You’re right. I didn’t, and it cost me my relationship with Kami because they showed up when she was here and I…I didn’t, uh…” God that was hard to admit. When he said it out loud it sounded so much more insulting.

  Dillon’s eyes flew wide. “You pretended you two were just friends.”

  Travis clenched his jaw and nodded.

  “Dude,” Cash breathed.

  “Yeah.”

  “And you still haven’t talked to Michelle’s parents, have you?” Was that disappointment in Cash’s voice?

  “Would you? They said they felt like they lost a son. How can I tell them I was planning on dumping their daughter as she was dying?”

  “The two aren’t related,” Dillon said. “She was in her house watching TV and she passed away. It doesn’t matter if she thought you two were going to live happily ever after. It’s likely she didn’t know you were on your way to end the relationship, but come on, man. She’d broken it off twice. She knew something was wrong between the two of you. If you had broken up and she passed away, it wouldn’t have been any easier. Maybe it was best the way it happened.”

  Travis swallowed hard. He and Michelle had been good friends on top of being a couple. They’d missed each other’s company, but not enough to give up anything for it. “What about her parents? I can’t hurt Kami, but this is more than feelings. Their daughter died.”

  Cash answered. “Here’s my impression. It might break their hearts that you weren’t in love with Michelle anymore. You don’t have to tell them exactly how that night went. Let them know you two
wouldn’t have made it to the altar if she had lived, but that doesn’t mean you’d be cut out of their life. Will it open a new wound? It might just irritate a healing one.”

  A year ago, Travis wouldn’t have paid attention past Cash’s first sentence, but since he’d met Abbi, he was more outspoken and less a peacekeeper. “No, they don’t need to know about my intent to breakup. I can still help them, but there’s no need for a big talk on how I can’t dedicate as much time to their business. There’s no point now. Kami’s done with me.”

  Dillon crossed his arms in front of himself. “Doesn’t mean you can’t still do right by her.”

  Travis wiped off his brow. The late August sun beat down on him, encouraging the storm of emotions inside. Do right by Kami.

  Because she was the only one he really wanted to please.

  “I’ll have to tell them in person.” The more he thought about it, the more his decision gave him peace. “I’ll leave tonight.”

  “Leave now,” Dillon said. “When you get back, you can let Kami know we found the barrels from her racing days. Ask if she wants them, tell her we’re thinking about implementing her sheep plan.”

  Cash ducked his head. “If lambing isn’t as brutal as calving, then I’m on board. As long as Aaron approves, then we should pay her for her outline.”

  Travis smiled for the first time in weeks. “I’ll bug her about every damn piece of equipment until she talks to me.”

  ***

  Kami patiently herded Kambria out of the jewelry section. “That’s not what we’re here for.”

  “Ohmigosh, at gymnastics camp, there’s this one girl who had blue hair. Can we get blue dye, Mom? Can we?”

  Since Kambria had come home from camp, she’d told at least five gymnastics camp stories. A day.

  “I’d rather buy you another shirt instead of hair dye.”

  “It washes right out, though. I can wash my hair so no teachers complain at school.”