Hell Creek Boys (Endless Sky Cowboys #1)

Chapter 1

Jesse

My stepfather was dead.

It was raining in the cemetery, and the small group of onlookers were bundled up under their umbrellas.

A casket sat suspended above an open grave, the spray of roses now drenched with heavy autumn rain.

There was a chill in the air, the kind that came to Montana when the threat of winter is close at hand.

But my thoughts weren’t about rain, or cold, or the breath fogging in front of me as the pastor said his bit.

Jack Nelson, the only man I’d ever known as my father, was dead. And I’d never gotten to say goodbye, never got to apologize for all the wrong I’d done him. And now I never would. All the family I’d ever known was dead.

Except him.

I glanced to the right, noticing the devastatingly handsome man at the far end of the group, the one that had made frequent visits into my teenage fantasies.

He wore a black suit drenched with rain, water dripping from his black cowboy hat.

Maybe he wasn’t bothered by the rain, or maybe he just didn’t care.

After all, it was his father in the casket, the man he’d known his entire life.

I couldn’t tell if he was crying or if his eyes had just always been that blue.

But one thing was for certain; Cole Nelson was not happy that I was there.

Then again, why would he be? The last time I saw him was nearly fifteen years ago when I left Hell Creek for what I thought was the final time.

The last thing I saw as I drove away was Cole in my rearview, tears of anger and frustration running down his face as his father tried to staunch the flow of blood from his broken nose.

That day they learned that I could fight too, that I wasn’t just some whiny little kid anymore.

It’s funny… in the moment it had seemed like such a triumph, like I’d finally grown into a man. But looking back on it now, it didn’t feel as good. It was the last time I’d ever seen my stepfather alive. I didn’t regret putting Cole in his place that day, but Jack deserved better than that.

The pastor’s voice faded to a distant hum as I watched Cole across the grave.

His jaw was set hard, muscles flexing beneath his stubble as he clenched his teeth.

Fifteen years had changed him. The boyish rancher I’d left behind had become something else entirely.

He was harder and darker now, with tattoos peeking from beneath his collar and cuffs.

His shoulders were broader, his stance more commanding.

Everything about him screamed that he owned this place, this moment, this grief.

He’d never looked better.

And that hard facade didn’t crack as the pulleys creaked, the casket slowly lowered into the ground. Rain poured down around us, the wide-open skies of Montana a never-ending sea of gray. This was Hell Creek’s legacy. Ranching, death, and an endless sky.

I shifted uncomfortably as the service concluded. People began to disperse, murmuring condolences to Cole as they passed. No one approached me. Most probably didn’t even recognize me anymore.

“Didn’t think you’d show,” a gravelly voice said behind me.

I turned to find Mack Hollister, the town’s hardware store owner and one of Jack’s oldest friends. He’d aged considerably, his weathered face now a roadmap of wrinkles.

“Jack was my father too,” I replied, the words feeling strange in my mouth after so many years of denial.

Mack’s eyes narrowed. “That so? Coulda fooled me when you disappeared without a trace. Cole’s been running that ranch single-handed since you left. Nearly killed himself doing it.”

The guilt I’d been fighting twisted deeper. “I didn’t know—”

“Course you didn’t. You weren’t here.” Mack glanced toward Cole, who was now standing alone by the casket. “There’s gonna be a reading of the will tomorrow at ten. Jack’s lawyer’s office in town. You planning on sticking around for that?”

I hadn’t planned on staying more than the day, but something in Mack’s tone made me hesitate. “Should I?”

“Let’s just say Jack had some... specific ideas about his legacy.” Mack patted my shoulder. “The old hotel’s still open if you plan on stayin’. Though, knowin’ you, I won’t get my hopes up.”

I stared at the old man as he walked away. It was becoming increasingly obvious that I was not a popular person in this town anymore. That was probably Cole’s doing. He did always like to make my life difficult.

As if on cue, I felt someone’s gaze burning into me.

When I looked up, those ice-blue eyes locked with mine across the muddy cemetery.

Cole’s expression was unreadable, but the tension in his body told me everything I needed to know.

He still blamed me… for leaving, for not being there when Jack got sick, for showing up now when it was too late.

And he was right to.

I should have been here. I should have swallowed my pride years ago. But I’d been too stubborn, too hurt, too damn afraid of facing what I’d left behind. Not just the ranch or my family, but my own truth that I knew none of them would accept.

Cole turned away first, his eyes releasing me like a predator reluctantly abandoning its prey. He moved toward the parking lot, people parting around him like water around a stone. Even in grief, he commanded respect, something I’d never managed to earn in this town.

I stood there until everyone was gone, until it was just me and the rain and my stepfather’s grave. The cemetery workers waited at a respectful distance, shovels in hand, ready to finish their job once I left.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” I whispered, the words swallowed by the drumming rain. Too little, too late.

I trudged back to my rental car, mud caking my dress shoes.

City shoes had no business in Montana soil, and the rain was quick to prove that.

As I reached for the door handle, I spotted Cole’s black pickup still idling in the lot, steam rising from its exhaust in the cold air.

He sat behind the wheel, staring straight ahead, not acknowledging me even though I knew he’d seen me.

For a moment, I considered approaching him. What would I say? Sorry I kicked Dad in the face? Sorry I abandoned you both? Sorry I never called, never wrote, never came back until there was a body in the ground?

Instead, I got in my car and drove away. Some patterns were just too damn hard to break.

The Hell Creek Hotel looked exactly as I remembered it.

It was a three-story brick building from the twenties that had survived through the Great Depression out of sheer stubborn refusal to crumble.

The lobby smelled of pine cleaner and coffee, with the same worn leather chairs gathered around a stone fireplace.

Behind the desk, an older woman with silver-streaked hair glanced up, her eyes widening in recognition.

“Jesse Nelson? Is that you?”

I winced at the name. “It’s Jesse Harris. Haven’t gone by Nelson in a long time.”

“Oh.” She frowned slightly. “I’m Maggie. I bought this place from the Hendersons about ten years back. You probably don’t remember me. I used to work at the school library.”

I nodded vaguely, though I had no recollection of her. “Just need a room for the night.”

“Of course.” She handed me a real metal key. There were no keycards here in Hell Creek. “Room two-twelve. There’s breakfast from six to nine. I’m... sorry to hear about Jack. He was a good man.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, taking the key and my small overnight bag. I hadn’t planned on staying, and I hadn’t packed for more than the funeral.

The room was clean but dated, with faded floral wallpaper and a quilt that had seen better decades.

I shrugged out of my wet suit jacket and sat heavily on the bed.

The will reading tomorrow. What could Jack possibly have left me?

A final reprimand from beyond the grave, most likely. Not that I didn’t deserve it.

I pulled out my phone to check messages. There were a handful of work emails I should answer, and a text from my boyfriend Derek asking how it went. I thumbed a quick reply.

Me: Made it to Hell Creek. Funeral was miserable. Will call later.

I hesitated before adding: Miss you.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell him more.

Not about Cole’s piercing stare or the weight of fifteen years of guilt pressing down on my chest. Derek wouldn’t understand.

He came from money and stability, a family that had Sunday dinners and holiday traditions and talked on the phone every other day.

He’d never known what it was like to be the outsider, the stepson who never quite fit in.

The radiator in the corner clanked and hissed as it struggled to warm the room.

Outside, the rain continued its steady assault.

I stripped off my wet clothes and stood under the shower until the hot water ran cold, but nothing could wash away the chill that had settled in my bones since I’d crossed the Montana state line.

After toweling off, I pulled on the only other clothes I’d brought… jeans and a button-down that suddenly felt too city, and far too polished for Hell Creek. I needed a drink.

The Trough was still the only bar in town, its forty-year-old neon sign buzzing in the gray evening light.

I parked across the street, steeling myself before pushing through the heavy wooden door.

The conversations didn’t exactly stop when I walked in, but they definitely quieted.

Eyes tracked me as I made my way to the bar, some curious, others hostile.

“Whiskey, neat,” I told the bartender, a heavyset woman I didn’t recognize.

She nodded, pouring a generous shot. “You’re Jack Nelson’s boy.”

Not a question. “One of them,” I corrected, downing half the whiskey in one swallow.

“Well, your brother’s been drowning his sorrows here since the doctor gave your daddy six months.” She pushed the bottle toward me. “Seems like you’ve got some catching up to do.”

The whiskey burned, but not enough to cauterize the wound her words opened.

Six months. Jack had been dying for six months, and I hadn’t known.

Hadn’t bothered to check in. Cole had carried that burden alone.

Then again, he could’ve reached out at any time and told me.

It seemed like I wasn’t the only prideful one in the family.

“Another,” I said, pushing my glass forward.

Three drinks later, the door swung open, bringing with it a gust of cold air and the looming presence of Cole Nelson.

The bar fell silent for real this time. He stood in the doorway, rain dripping from his hat, those blue eyes scanning the room until they landed on me.

His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath his stubbled skin.

For a moment, I thought he might turn around and leave.

Instead, he stalked toward me, each step deliberate, predatory.

The crowd parted for him like he was Moses and they were the Red Sea.

He stopped beside me, close enough that I could smell the rain on him, mixed with leather and that expensive cologne he’d been wearing since high school, the one my mother had bought him every Christmas.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

I turned to face him, alcohol making me braver than I felt. “I have as much right to be here as you do,” I snapped back. “Piss off.”

Cole’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists, and for a second, I thought he might hit me right there. Instead, he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear.

“You lost the right to be here when you left us all behind,” he growled. “Fifteen years without so much as a phone call, and now you show up expecting what? A warm welcome?”

The whiskey made my tongue loose. “I didn’t come for a welcome. I came to say goodbye to Dad.”

“Dad,” he mocked, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “As if he was ever anything to you.”

I knocked back the rest of my drink, the burn in my throat matching the one in my chest. It was obvious Cole wanted a fight, which meant I was gonna give him anything but. “What do you want from me, Cole?”

“I want you to fuckin’ leave and never come back,” he growled. “Just like you promised fifteen years ago.”

I stood up from the barstool, my world tilting dangerously as the alcohol took effect.

“I’ll leave,” I said at last, pulling my coat on.

“After I hear what’s in the will tomorrow.

” Cole’s face fell and I couldn’t help but smile.

“Yeah. I heard about that. You thought you’d just leave out that little detail, huh? ”

“Fuck you,” he snapped. “Even if Dad left you anything, you don’t deserve it. I’m the one that’s been taking care of this place. Not you.”

“Oh no, poor little martyr,” I teased, waving him off like he was of no concern to me. Now I was just trying to make him mad, something I’d always enjoyed when it came to Cole. “Besides, I can’t just leave town without my family heirlooms.”

Cole’s arm began to raise and this time, I really thought he was going to hit me. But the woman behind the counter cleared her throat loudly, stopping Cole in his tracks.

“If you boys are gonna fight, go do it somewhere else,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“I’m leaving,” I said, waving her off. “I got nothin’ to say to this asshole, anyway. I’ve already beat his ass once.”

I was nearly to the door when Cole’s voice stopped me.

“You ain’t takin’ the ranch,” he said, his voice gravelly and dangerous. “Not a single piece of it. I don’t care what Dad’s will says.”

I turned back, a big irritating smile on my face just for him. “Believe me, I don’t want a damn thing to do with your shitty ranch.” I pushed the door open. “You can keep it.”