Live for Me (Hallow Ranch)

Chapter Four

Beau

As the Wildlife truck drove away, gravel flying behind it, I approached Denver and Mags, who were both looking more pissed off than usual. The work day was done and after a trip into town, I’d fixed Denver’s sink.

“I take it that didn’t go well,” I mused, the photo I’d found hours earlier burning in my hand.

“The ranger they sent is a fuck a fucking idiot,” Mags rumbled darkly, shooting me a glare. “All of them are.”

“That’s been established, Mags. Four years ago, in fact,” I said as Denver turned to face me. I looked at my boss. “Is the grizzly taken care of?”

“They want to monitor our trail cameras for the next few days. Someone should be coming out tomorrow,” Denver explained.

My jaw tightened. “We needed a team out here today,” I bit off. “That’s what I told Chase.”

“According to the district wildlife office, they don’t need to take orders from Chase anymore,” Mags drawled, adjusting his hat.

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked, something stirring in my gut.

“It means Paul Goodman knows something we don’t,” Denver surmised, casting one more look out to the gravel path before looking back at me. Paul Goodman was Forest Ranger Dipshit, the man I wanted Chase to send out here.

“Something is coming,” I said, repeating his words from the other day.

Mag shifted. “So it’s not just me?”

I looked at him, brows furrowing. “What are you talking about?”

His dark eyes flashed, and he looked out to the gravel path, watching the dust settle. “I’ve had a feeling for a while now. Something is off with the sheriff.”

Denver exhaled slowly, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “What do you mean?”

“He was acting strange when Carrie and Grayson’s shit went down.”

Carrie and Grayson were our friends. Grayson, the owner of Red Snake Investigations, served in the Marines with Mags when they were younger. This past winter, Carrie had been abducted and taken down here. She escaped, and by some fucking stroke of twisted fate, she ran for miles in the snow onto Hallow Ranch. Mags found her on one of the trail cameras. Chase came to get Carrie’s statement and was instructed by Red Snake to let the case go colds.

“Strange?” I repeated, shooting a look to Denver.

“He was on edge, boys,” Mags assured. “Something has been eating at him since last Christmas.”

That was true, but we all just assumed it had to do with his personal life. Chase’s father had gotten sick in the fall, but now, I couldn’t help but wonder if something else was going on.

“You think there’s a deal going on under the table?” I asked them, jaw tight.

Denver shook his head. “Chase wouldn’t make a deal with Paul, not knowing the problems we’ve had with him in the past.”

“This isn’t about a deal,” Mags added, his voice brimming with concern. Something in my gut twisted as the words left his mouth. “This is about a shift in power.”

The words settled over us, hanging in the humid evening air. Denver put his hands on his hips and bent his head. “God fucking dammit.”

“We need to call Diana,” I told him. Diana was Hallow Ranch’s lawyer, and she was also the only person, aside from Chase, who could get answers. Mags said nothing and Denver sighed, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll give her a call in the morning. There’s nothing we can to about it now. Thanks for taking care of the sink, man. I appreciate it.”

I wanted to give him shit, but now wasn’t the time. “No problem.” I looked over to Mags, noticing how tense he’d became since I mentioned Diana. Once I returned my attention back to Denver, I lifted my chin, “You got a minute before you head inside for dinner?”

He studied me for a moment as Mags turned away from us, heading down the hill, leaving us without a word.

“Fucker never says bye anymore,” Denver mumbled, shaking his head. “What did you need, Beau?”

I felt my chest getting tighter, and my voice was strained when I said, “Its about Abbie.”

A small wave of surprise washed over the cowboy’s face, his brows spreading apart, relaxing as his gray eyes hardened. “Abbie,” he parroted.

Fuck, I’d thought saying her name out loud would be too much for me to bear, but the real torture was hearing her name come from someone else’s mouth. Someone who knew how much I loved her, how much she gutted me in the end. The lump in my throat was too much, and all I could do was nod as I pulled out the photo, feelings I’d battled to suppress rushing to the surface. I bit down on my jaw to the point of pain, flipping the photo for Denver to see.

His eyes dropped to it, staring at it for a few, long seconds. “What is this, Beau? I know what she looks like.” Before I could get a word in, he continued, “Is she in trouble or something?”

I’d kill anyone who hurt her.

Jesus, Beau. Get it together. I rolled my neck, nostrils flaring. “Denver, I haven’t talked to her in six years, haven’t even seen her in three,” I told him. “I went to grab your tool bag from the laundry room, and this fell down from the shelf.”

His brows furrowed again. “In—in my laundry room?”

I nodded once. “I’ve been looking for this photo forever. When I couldn’t find it, I just assumed it was lost.”

Denver looked up to the house and then down to the bunkhouse. Then, it hit him. “The flood, Beau.”

Fuck. How could I have forgotten?

A few years ago, it rained for thirteen days straight, the water over flowing the river north of the town and the creeks around it. It backed up to the ranch, flooding the main pasture, the barn, and the bunkhouse. We’d moved all our personal belongings into the main house for safe keeping until it passed.

I closed my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “That must be it,” I mumbled. When I opened my eyes again, I found Denver studying me again, and I felt a wave of guilt slam into me. “I apologize, Den. I was just—”

“Don’t apologize. I’d go a damn rampage if I found a picture of my woman in the bunkhouse,” he said, cutting me off sharply.

My woman.

Those words were like a punch to the gut, and I wanted to double over from the pain burning inside me. I hadn’t spoken her name in over three years and I’d just fucking relapsed, the need to see her, to touch her, to hear her voice pulsing through my veins.

“She’s not my woman, Den. Not anymore,” I sighed, looking out to the pasture, watching the grass sway back and forth in the even wind. The need would go away—eventually. It always did.

“Do you want me to get rid of it?”

The question slammed into me like a fucking train. My head snapped back to him. “What the hell did you just say?”

He tipped his hat to the photo and, instinctively, my fingers tightened around it. Like hell I’d let him take this away from me. A low growl came from me as I bit off, “No.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up and he nodded once. “Alright, Beau.”

I blinked, the sudden feeling of possessiveness fading away as I looked out into the field again, lowering my hand to my side, my thumb stroking over the photo. Denver’s hand landed on my shoulder then, squeezing. “You alright?”

My throat worked, Abbie’s sweet, musical laughter echoing in my ears as I remembered the night I’d chased her through this field and around the pair of a trees in the distance. It had been chilly that night, the first of October. She had been studying for her mid-terms and needed a break from the books. When I caught her at the edge of the pasture, I’d spun her around in my arms and captured her mouth, kissing her until we were both breathless.

“Beau.”

Denver’s voice shattered the memory, reminding me of how far in the future I was. The bleak and lonely feature. I bent my head, shoved the photo into my back pocket, and cleared my throat. “Yeah. I’m okay,” I answered, knowing damn well neither one of us believed that.

“Try to get some rest tonight, yeah?” He clapped me on the shoulder, and a second later, I heard the gravel crunching under his boots. He was heading into this home, on his ranch, to kiss his beautiful wife, son, and daughter. Time passed, and as my good friend cherished his happily ever after, I remained where I was, staring out into the evening as the sun set lower and lower with each passing second. I didn’t move until the moon was high, the stars twinkling in the sky as I sat trapped in the past.

The past wasn’t filled with pain.

It was filled with the only love I’d ever known and a warmth I would never forget, no matter how much I wanted to.

I was chained to it, to the life I’d thought I would have with her.

Now, I was nothing more than a lonely cowboy, the world passing him by without a single care.

I was in my own version of hell. No amount of time could fix that.

As I walked down the hill to the bunkhouse, the memory of her faded behind me. I would never be able to move on.

Abbie Spears was branded into my soul.

Fourteen years ago. Hayden, CO.

Age: Seventeen.

I looked over to Mason as he stared down into the corral, watching the bull buck and thrash. The beast was doing everything it could to get his rider off him. The crowd around us cheered as the clock counted the seconds. The beast huffed through its nose before bucking again, flying in the air and kicking its back legs before spinning.

The rider, a local bull rider Mason had become obsessed with, was thrown off, landing hard in the dirt. The crowd gasped, watching in horror as the cowboy scrambled to get back as the bull charged him. The bull wranglers cut the beast off just in time, and the rider shot to his feet, jogging away as he held his hat in the air. The crowd of Hayden and the town over roared, the people shooting to their feet, whistling and clapping for the young man.

It was impressive, yeah.

But it was also bat shit crazy, and the look Mason had in his eyes scared the ever living fuck out of me.

“Don’t even think about it,” I mumbled, reaching for my soda.

Mason tore his eyes away from the bull, looking at me with his wild gray eyes. “Think about what?” he asked innocently. “Jigs has been helping me.”

“My dad is the last person who should be helping you ride bulls,” I deadpanned. Before I was born, my pop rode bulls. He stopped due to him getting injured. A year later, he’d met my mother according to the stories.

Mason rolled his eyes and tossed some popcorn in his mouth. “I wouldn't have brought you with me if I knew all I’d get was a lecture,” he mumbled.

“I didn’t come here for you, asshole,” I shot back, putting my forearms on my knees and scanning the crowd for her.

“She’s by the trailers,” Mason said through a mouth full of popcorn.

I looked back to him. “Who?”

He shot me look, his eyes reminding me of his brother’s underneath his new cowboy hat. “Don’t play dumb with me, Beau.” He jerked his head to the trailers. “Abbie is over there, talking with some man.”

My skin tightened, and unease settled over me. “A man?”

“Yeah, I think it’s her dad.”

“She doesn’t have a dad,” I bit off, shooting up from my seat. “I’ll be back.”

Mason waved me off, his attention on the next bull rider.

I made my way down the bleachers, passing by the locals, tipping my hat to them when they acknowledged me.

“Hey, Beau.”

“How are you doing tonight, Son?”

“Saw your pop at the hardware store the other day.”

“You getting a job at Hallow Ranch like your dad?”

Greetings and questions surrounded me as I weaved through the small crowd. Hayden was my home, and normally, I loved my small town and the ranch Pop worked on. Right now, though? It was pissing me off. I needed to find Abbie, needed to make sure she was okay. So, by the time, I got to Billy, one of my father’s friends, I’d had enough.

The old man smiled at me, carrying his beer in on hand, his popcorn tucked into his arm. “Hey, Beau. How are ya?”

He blocked my path and I could feel my blood boiling, looking around him and spotting a flash of pink.

Pink.

Abbie had worn a pink skirt to school today.

“I’m doing great, Billy. If you’ll excuse me—”

“Now just hold on there a minute, son,” he said, chuckling as I tried to walk around him. “What’s the rush?”

I looked at the man, knowing I couldn’t tell him about Abbie.

The thing about Abbie was, she was the black sheep of Hayden. None of the adults cared for her or liked her. I thought it was absolute bullshit, considering she didn’t do anything wrong. Her piece of shit mother, on the other hand…

My father raised me to treat everyone—especially women--with respect, but there was some days I wanted to kill that fucking woman for what she put Abbie through.

“I ran into John and Jigs the other day. And, believe it or not, your father said you wanted to work at Hallow Ranch. Be a ranch hand,” Billy said, putting his hand on my shoulder. I tensed, my hands balling into fists at my sides. I knew what was coming. From the other side of the bleachers, the crowd roared as the next rider was announced—a hot shot from Dallas, Texas. “My thing is, you know, my boy, Ricky, wanted a job at Hallow Ranch when he graduated from high school. I’m sure you remember him.”

Everyone in this town knew Ricky. He was a fucking jackass. John Langston didn’t want him working at the ranch for many reasons, but the main one being, he was a jackass, just like his father.

I heard a shout from behind him, the trailers covered in shadows.

“That’s great, Billy. If you’ll excuse me, my friend needs my help,” I said, my voice hard as I shrugged his hand off my shoulder, moving around him.

Billy chuckled again, something dark laced within it. My spine stiffened.

“If you’re going back there for your little friend, don’t bother. She’s getting what’s coming to her,” he said, his upper lip curling in disgust.

My head ticked to the side. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

Billy didn’t like that. He, just like his son, always had to be the most powerful man in the room. My father told me that years ago. His weathered face tightened, his eyes flashing with anger as he bared his teeth.

“Don’t cuss at me, boy—”

Before I could stop myself, my fist reared back and surged forward, clocking him in the jaw. Abbie’s mom wasn’t a good woman. One of the reasons people at school hated Abbie was because her mom had slept with almost all their fathers and ruined multiple marriages.

None of that was Abbie’s fault, though, and she’d turned into a punching bag for everyone to hate.

Everyone except for me.

My chest heaved as I watched Billy go down, and then I was running towards the trailers, shouting her name. “Abbie! Abbie, where are you?”

I heard some horses whining and then a grunt to my left, followed by a cry. I ran deeper into the lines of trucks and trailers, the noises of the rodeo echoing behind me as I looked all around.

Where was she?

Where the fuck was she?

“Abbie!” I roared, praying my voice could be heard over the crowd. I moved, running to the left, and then, I heard it.

She cried out my name.

“Beau! Beau help!”

Fear coiled around my neck then, ready to strike.

My boots couldn’t hit the ground fast enough as I broke into a run, my heart pounding for her and only her. I’d been denying my feelings for her for too long and I was done pretending she wasn’t my entire world. She was past, my present, and I prayed to God she was my future. If she wasn’t, I didn’t know what the hell would become of me.

Rounding the back of one of the larger trailers, I found Abbie pinned against it, a man’s hand around her throat, his body holding her captive. “Tell your momma I want my money,” the man growled, his eyes wild with anger.

Everything happened in slow motion after that.

She cried out for mercy. “Let me go! I have nothing to do with her! I don’t know where your money is!”

“Bull fucking shit you don’t. You and your momma are cut from the same worthless cloth!” The man backhanded, her causing her neck to twist, her face going to the side as her hair whipped around, covering her bruised cheek.

She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth, forcing herself to take the pain and not scream.

All I saw was red, a growl ripping from my throat as I broke into a run, charging him. I ducked my head right before I made contact, nailing him with my shoulder as I took him to the ground. My hat flew off, landing upside down on the ground beside us as I pinned the man, ramming my fist into his face over and over as I shouted at him. “Don’t you ever fucking touch my girl again,” I roared, my body taking control, logic fading. He had over fifty pounds on me, but I was stronger. His arms flailed, but I wrapped a hand around his throat, holding him like he held her while I punched him with the other.

I shouted at him, telling him I’d kill him if he ever touched her again.

I heard her cry out from behind me, but I couldn’t stop. I was too far gone, too pissed off.

All her life, Abbie had been hit by men, and I’d been powerless to stop it. I was too skinny, too small, too weak.

Not anymore.

I was a fucking man now.

I could protect her now.

Abbie deserved love, and I was going to give it to her. Day after day. Year after year. Until I was old and gray. Until my lungs stopped working. Until my heart stopped beating, I would love Abbie the way she was destined to be loved.

I didn’t know when the man stopped moving. It could’ve been when I heard his bones crunching or when I’d finally started feeling pain in my hands. At some point, his arms fell to his sides, and I felt wetness splash up on my face, hitting my forehead and cheek.

I didn’t fucking care.

All I could see was him hitting her, hurting her—scaring her.

Eventually, when my body was tired, I leaned back, chest heaving as I dropped my hands, leaving them to hang in over my hips, throbbing now. Abbie came around to my front, her hands over her mouth as she stared down at me in horror, shaking her head rapidly.

But God, she looked so fucking pretty today.

Her hair was in loose braids, hanging over her shoulders, strays escaping as the ends curled around the swell of her chest. When she walked into the school this morning, I’d never seen anything more perfect in my life. However, right now, she wasn’t perfect. Her white blouse was ripped at the shoulder, and her long, pink skirt that flowed around her legs, down to her white tennis shoes was covered in dirt stains. I bit down hard, hoping like hell we could get those stains out. She loved that skirt so fucking much, and I still remembered the happy dance she did when she found it in Sam’s thrift store last spring. My eyes dropped to her shoes, studying them as my heart drummed in my ears. They had a hole them, and I was doing all I could to save up so I could get her a new pair.

I couldn’t give her money—not again. The last time, her momma found it and stole it for blow. Abbie Spears didn’t have a dime to her name, despite all the extra dish washing shifts she’d been picking up at the diner in town. Nothing ever lasted. Her greedy mother was always stealing her paychecks.

“What did you do, Beau?” she whimpered as she dropped her trembling hands to her sides. My eyes flicked up from her shoes to her face, seeing fear still shining in her eyes.

“What I had to,” I answered roughly, rolling my right shoulder.

I didn’t have to look at the man. I kept my eyes on her, focused on where he’d struck her. It was already swelling and fuck me, my girl bruised easily.

“Beau, you…you…”

“Take a breath,” I ordered calmly. I knew the man was dead.

I’d just killed a man, but I didn’t care. I only cared about her.

My father had killed plenty of men in his lifetime, and growing up on Hallow Ranch, there were just certain things a cowboy had to do. Killing anyone who hurt the people you loved was one of those things. From the age of ten, I knew that, someday, I would have to take a life, and growing up beside Abbie, I also knew I would do it to protect her.

Now that day was here, and I had no regrets.

“What did you do?” she repeated, her voice higher and louder this time.

I bent my head, closing my eyes, knowing she wasn’t a stranger to violence. But she was a stranger to this—death.

I wasn’t.

I saw many things during my summers at Hallow Ranch. I was used to it.

The only thing I cared about was Abbie.

Inhaling a deep breath, I opened my eyes and wiped my bloody hands on the dead man’s shirt before rising to my full height. I bent down, swooping up my hat off the ground, and slowly walked towards her, my jaw tight. She was trembling as I gently gripped her chin, turning her head to the side. Her cheekbone was a deep red, turning purple, but I didn’t think it was broken. Pop would double check when I got her back to the ranch.

“Beau!”

I turned around, my upper lip curling into a snarl as I shoved Abbie behind me. My shoulders relaxed when Mason came around the corner, his eyes wild. He stopped short, his hand on the top of his black cowboy hat, chest heaving like he’d been running. His eyes dropped to the body, staring at it for a second before lifting back up to me, flicking to where Abbie was behind my frame. His jaw ticked once.

“He fucking hit her?” he guessed.

I nodded once, saying nothing.

Mason had a choice here.

He could either call the cops, maintain his image of John Langston’s son for the town of Hayden and have me arrested. Or, he could help me hide the body.

I felt Abbie’s hand wrap around my forearm, her fingers tightening. I held my breath, heart pounding, only to release it five seconds later when Mason said, “I’ll call your dad.”

“He won’t get here in time,” I argued, shaking my head. “We have to get the body out of here now. Leaving it would do me no good.”

“Why is that?” Mason asked, stepping forward, studying the body.

“Because I knocked the shit out of Billy before coming back here to save Abbie.” Mason’s gray eyes flicked up to mine, flashing with anger. “He made a comment. He knew where I was going, and he was trying to stall.”

“Because of the job?” Mason guessed, knowing the history of Billy and his son.

I grunted, confirming.

“Blame it on me.”

I whirled on Abbie, her suggestion stabbing me in the chest like a hot poker. “Absolutely not,” I growled.

“This is all my fault,” she blubbered, wrapping her arms around herself.

“None of this is your fault,” I said firmly, grabbing her shoulders. “We’re going to take care of the body, and then you’re coming back to Hallow Ranch. With me.”

“I—I need to go back to my mom’s,” she stammered.

Before I knew what I was thinking, I yanked her to my chest and slammed my mouth onto hers.

Our first kiss was short, rough, and possessive. It was everything I’d dreamed of.

When I pulled away, her eyes were wide with shock. “Beau—”

“—there’s no time, Abbie,” I murmured, stroking her jaw with my knuckle. “We’ll talk later.”

“You—you just killed a man and kissed me,” she breathed, grabbing the sides of my shirt, holding me in place.

I tilted my head to the side, my brows coming together in confusion. “I’ve been in love with you since the fifth fucking grade, Abbie. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you,” I told her, finally confessing my feelings after years of friendship.

“Would you two kindly hurry the hell up?” Mason snapped from behind us.

I broke away from her then and helped Mason with the body. Thankfully, everyone had been distracted by the rodeo, and no one could hear us moving a body over the roar of the crowd.

Within minutes, we had the body in the back of Mason’s truck, underneath a tarp, and I was on the phone with Pop.

Within an hour, I was holding Abbie’s hand as we stood in front of the flames, the smell of death rising around us.

By midnight, the ashes of the man who touched my wildflower had been spread over John Langston’s mountain, and no one, not even Mason and I, spoke of that night.

It was a secret between the four of us; Pop, me, Mase, and Abbie.

Not even Denver knew I’d killed my first man at the ripe age of seventeen.