Live for Me (Hallow Ranch)

Chapter Six

Beau

Eleven years ago. Hayden, CO.

Age: Twenty

Her rich brown hair flowed in the wind behind her as we made our way down to the coffee shop, the winter air slowly making its departure as the snow began to melt, the sun growing hotter each day.

She was wearing my favorite sweatshirt today, the one I’d bought her two Christmases ago.

“Do you have to work this weekend?” she blurted, turned to face me, stopping us in the middle of the sidewalk.

I squeezed her hand for the third time this morning. “No, I don’t. Why? Did you want to go into the city?” I asked, studying the gold flecks in her eyes, the morning sun hitting them just right.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, color blossoming in her cheeks. “I needed to head to campus to grab a few things before the break.”

Abbie had been going to college in Denver, now in her sophomore year. I was taking the basics online, working on my business degree while maintaining my job at Hallow Ranch, working alongside Pop. “Yeah, I can take you,” I told her, pressing my lips to her forehead and squeezing her hand. “I need to get out of that fucking bunkhouse anyways.”

“Why?”

I shot her a smirk. “The broody cowboy is getting on my nerves,” I told her, referring to Mags. He’d been at the ranch for a little over six months now, and he still hasn’t said a single word to anyone outside of Denver. It was…frustrating, but I also couldn’t blame the man. Denver explained to me that Mags had just gotten out of the Marines and witnessed some pretty fucked up shit over there. Mags had demons, and so did Denver.

Which was why they got along so well, I guessed.

“How’s Caleb doing?” Abbie asked, warmth coating her voice like honey.

Caleb was Denver’s son. The little black haired, gray-eyed boy was the future of Hallow Ranch and loved getting into trouble. Part of me knew that troublesome streak was a trait he’d inherited from his Uncle Mason, but I seriously doubted he would ever get to meet him. Mason and Denver had a fallout over two years ago, just before John Langston passed. Now, Denver ran Hallow Ranch and Mason was traveling the world, riding bulls and chasing an eight second high.

“He got into the hay loft yesterday,” I said, thinking about how Denver watched his son like hawk, afraid the hay would hurt the boy.

“Did he?” she beamed as I opened the door to the coffee shop for her.

“He’s a little shit,” I said and laughed as she smacked my arm.

“He is not,” she shot back. “He’s precious.”

The smell of coffee hit my nose as I stepped into the building behind Abbie, the espresso machine humming behind the counter where Miriam stood. She was older, around my dad’s age, and had been running this place since I was kid. Her daughter, Chloe, would be taking over soon.

“Hi, Abbie!” the old woman greeted as we came to the counter.

“Hi, Miriam,” Abbie greeted quietly, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear.

Things had changed in Hayden ever since that night at the rodeo—-the people of this town respected Abbie now. They welcomed her, and her mother was now an outcast, still living in a shitty trailer just outside of town. No one ever saw her anymore, not since Abbie moved out and into my house. My dad took her in, giving her my bedroom, and for the last two years of high school, the three of us lived in a comfortable routine. When I graduated, I moved to the bunkhouse on Hallow Ranch, and when Abbie graduated a year after that, she stayed for the summer, working at Hallow Ranch alongside me and Pop. Then, when the summer was over, she packed what little she had and moved into the dorms at her university.

Two years later, she was living in a small apartment off campus, driving back to see me every weekend in the car I’d bought her. Sometimes, I would go into the city, and she would show me all her hangouts. I got to know her friends, and they accepted me. I accepted them. Things were perfect.

I was the happiest and luckiest son of a bitch on Earth.

All because of her.

My wildflower.

“What can I get you both today?” Miriam asked with a bright smile.

“Black coffee for Beau and a vanilla latte for me, please,” Abbie ordered softly as I pulled out my wallet, grabbing some cash.

“How’s the ranch doing, Beau?” Miram asked as the bell jingled above the door, signaling a new customer.

I grinned at the woman. “It’s good. Denver is running me ragged.”

She chuckled. “That boy is just like his father. I’ll have your drinks to you in just a minute.”

I put my hand on Abbie’s lower back, hearing her small gasp.

Fuck, I loved that.

I loved the way she responded to my touch, and I couldn’t wait to hear those sounds in my ear later. I moved us out of the way, asking her about her project for her journalism class, watching the way her brown eyes lit up, the gold ring around her pupils flaring as excitement hit her. I stared at her, utterly mesmerized by her intelligence, her beauty, her strength. There was nothing in this world my wildflower couldn’t do.

God, I loved her. She would never fully be able to understand how much.

“Anyways, if I do this, then there’s a shot I’ll get put on the front page of the newspaper,” she said, jumping up and down a bit as she clung to my arm. I chuckled. “That’s so amazing. When it happens, I’m framing it.”

The bell above the door jingled again, and this time, the air in the small, cute coffee shop shifted. I looked away from her to the door, my body stiffening at the sight of her mother. I stepped forward, pushing Abbie behind me instinctively as the woman glared at me. Her hair was matted, her eyes sunken in, her teeth practically rotted out. This wasn’t the same woman who picked up Abbie in that shit box of a car in elementary school. Back then, Sheri looked like a human. Then, over time, her demons got the best of her, driving away any chance of happiness and love in this town, losing her only child in the process.

Abbie hadn’t seen her mother in years and I did everything in my power to keep her away. Whenever Sheri managed to find her way out to Hallow Ranch, Denver, Pop, and I always had to call the sheriff because she would never leave willingly, screaming Abbie’s name and demanding money. Sheri, in her own twisted mind, thought she was owed something.

“I knew she was in town,” Sheri sneered, taking a single step forward and letting the door close behind her.

“Miriam, call the sheriff’s office,” I ordered calmly, not taking my eyes off the woman.

Sheri’s upper lip curled. “Let me see my fucking daughter,” she bellowed, her outburst making Abbie flinch behind me. She took a hold of my shirt, pulling it tight behind me as if she was afraid I’d leave her.

I pointed to the door. “Leave. Now.”

“You think you’re a tough guy because you’re all grown up, don’t you?” she spat, waving her arms out.

“Beau,” Abbie whimpered from behind me.

My jaw tightened, and Miriam moved out from behind the counter, dusting off her apron. “Now, Sheri Spears, you know better than to come into a place of business and start wailing,” she scolded.

Sheri’s eyes sliced to the old woman, and for half a second—maybe even less than that—I saw a flash of regret in her eyes. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make me feel sorry for the woman for half a second.

“Miriam, this isn’t any of your business,” Sheri returned loudly, pointing at me. “This boy has been keeping my daughter from me for years. He kidnapped her! Brainwashed her!”

Miriam was quiet for a moment, studying Sheri. Then, she shook her head and said, “I don’t understand what happened to you, dear girl. You were a good girl once upon a time. Good. Decent. Kind. All the things your own mother raised you to be. Now, your daughter is the good girl, and you can’t get out of your own way to see that. Despite all your efforts to ruin her, she still turned out better than you.”

Abbie sucked in a breath behind me.

My eyes slid over to Miriam. That was the thing about small towns—the stories, the history, the drama between families never truly went away. They would always be remembered.

Big cities weren’t like that.

City life was fleeting, every person moving from one moment to the next without care, written in pencil. Things could be erased—with time.

Small town life was everlasting, each person affecting the other, written in stone. Nothing could be forgotten in a small town; legacies and curses would always remain. Legacies like Hallow Ranch. Curses like Sheri Spears.

“You don’t know me,” Sheri said through her teeth.

“Everyone in this town knows you, Sheri,” Miriam sighed, pulling out her phone. “You have three seconds to leave my shop before I call the cops. Sheriff Peters might give you a chance, but if that new Officer Bowen gets his hands on you, he won’t be so forgiving.”

When she refused to move, I stepped forward, a growl rumbling from me as I said, “Get a move on.”

Sheri tried to look around me, and I saw red, getting in her space now. The smell of old cigarettes and alcohol filled my nose. “I didn’t fucking stutter, Sheri,” I pushed out, putting my hand on the gun strapped to my hip. “I’ll take you into the sheriff’s office myself.”

I’d rather send her to an early grave, but I couldn’t do that to my girl. There was still a part of her that cared for her mother, her inner child.

Sheri’s eyes widened as she looked up at me, stumbling back as my jaw ticked. “Y-you don’t—”

I reached over her and pushed the door open. She fell back, catching herself before falling on her ass in the middle of the sidewalk. She glared at me for a moment, and then her eyes flicked to where Abbie stood. “You fuck—”

In a flash, I had my gun out and pointed to her, seeing red. “Finish that fucking sentence,” I snarled. “I dare you.”

She opened her mouth to shout at me, but a sharp voice cut through the air like a sword. “Sheri Spears.”

My head turned to find Sheriff Peters and Officer Bowen standing two stores down. Miriam poked her head out of the door. “Oh good, you’re here. Sheri came into my shop, caused a disturbance, and was about to threaten one of my customer’s. We’ve asked her to leave multiple times, and she has refused,” she explained as they closed the distance.

Officer Bowen’s blue eyes snapped to mine. “Mr. Marks.”

I tipped my hat. “Officer Bowen.”

His eyes shifted to my gun. “You wanna put that away for me?”

Not really. However, getting arrested wasn’t on my to-do list today. I looked back to Sheri as I sheathed the weapon before taking a step toward her. “You ever try to interfere with my woman’s life again, you’re done. Do you understand me? I won’t stop until you’re rotting in a fucking prison cell where you belong,” I said calmly. “Unless Abbie asks to see you, you stay the hell away from her.”

“Beau,” Sheriff Peters called. When I looked over to him, he said, “We got it from here.”

As they hauled Sheri away in handcuffs, Miriam went back inside, and I followed her once they were out of sight. Abbie was leaning against the counter, her arms folded over her chest as she looked out the window. I came over to her, putting my hands on either side of her neck. “Hey, hey. Look at me,” I murmured.

Her lips thinned, and I could tell she was about to cry, doing her best not to let that dam break. I silently cursed as I hooked my finger under her chin, tilting her face to me. My eyes scanned hers as I whispered, “No one is allowed to hurt you, not even her. You understand me?”

“You shouldn’t have to protect me all the time,” she whispered back.

My head tilted to the side. “Protecting you comes with the job, Wildflower.”

A single tear fell onto her cheek. “And what job is that, Beau?”

“Loving you.”

Present Day. Hallow Ranch.

Mags being in the bunkhouse this late at night was concerning.

Mags leaving his cabin to come to the bunkhouse this late at night was very concerning.

Mags leaving his cabin to come to the bunkhouse to get me at midnight wasn’t just concerning—-it scared the shit out of me.

Something was wrong.

I looked over to the twins’ bunks; both of them were still out. Lawson on the top bunk, his mouth open, his arm hanging over the edge. Lance was on the bottom, on his back, one arm behind his head and the other hand resting on his chest, mouth close. Lawson’s snores would scare the damn horses if we kept the door open too fucking long.

“Outside,” Mags ordered, his voice low.

My head snapped back to him, and I nodded, rising from my bunk and grabbing a pair of jeans. I didn’t bother with a shirt, walking out into the cool, summer night, finding Mags leaning over the corral gate, his hands clasped in front of him as he stared up at the moon.

“What is it? Did you see the grizzly on the trail cameras?” I asked, coming upside him.

The shadow of his hat concealed his eyes, but I knew they were on me as he said, “I’m not going to bother telling you not to freak out or to keep your cool, because that’s just not in your nature when it comes to this.”

Comes to what?

“Mags, what the fuck are you talking about?” I bit off, my muscles tensing.

“Got a call from Red Snake Investigations,” he stated.

I clenched my jaw, waiting for him to give me more. “Ash is there for the next few weeks while they move everything to Portland,” he reminded me. I knew this. Grayson and Carrie lived in Astoria. Having a Red Snake office in Denver didn’t make sense anymore.

“What is it, Mags?” The words came out cold—distant. It was poor attempt to tame my mind as fear threatened to invade it.

Mags sighed and rose to his full height, turning to face me. “Ash got a call from a woman claiming to have a stalker. She sounded like she was about to have a panic attack, and Ash gently advised her to take a breath. She must’ve gotten the wrong idea, thinking Red Snake wouldn’t be able to help with her situation and she hung up on him. Now, Ash being Ash, he wasn’t going to let that go, so he had Jake run her number,” he explained, pausing for a moment. I didn’t move a single inch, frozen as he continued, “The number is registered to Abbie Spears.”

There was only one word I could focus on, echoing in my head like Pop’s old broken record player.

Stalker.

Someone was trying to hurt my wildflower?

Anger swarmed through my blood, filling my veins with violent thoughts as my hands began to tremble at my sides. In order for them to stop, I folded my arms over my chest, knowing Mags had more information to give me. “What else?” I demanded, my voice dark.

“Before she hung up, she went on a panicked ramble, telling Ash that a few weeks ago, the stalker broke into her home while she was in the shower—”

“—oh hell fucking no,” I growled, moving then.

My body was in control now, my feet carrying me to the bunkhouse as Mags called out to my back, but it was too late.

I was a cowboy in love, and my woman was in danger.

There was nothing on this fucking planet that could stop me from getting to her.

The door to the bunkhouse swung open, banging against the wall as I turned on the lights, not giving a single shit about the twins as I crossed the space to my bunk, tossing a shirt over my head, then my hat.

“What the fuck?” Lawson groaned. “What the fuck is happening?”

I grabbed my gun, opening the chamber and making sure I had enough rounds to drop any sorry motherfucker who tried to stop me from getting my wildflower. Snapping that shut, I shoved it in the back of my jeans, grabbed my Carhart jacket, and moved back to the key hooks by the front door, snatching my set.

Lance called, “Beau, what the fuck is going on?”

I ignored them, charging back outside and finding Mags in the same place.

“Send me her fucking address,” I clipped.

“Already done.”

That was Mags. “Tell Denver I’ll be back when I can.”

“Will do,” he said calmly.

He understood.

He knew there would be no talking me out of this.

Nothing else mattered when it came to Abbie.

I may not be hers anymore, but she would always be mine, whether she wanted me or not.

Rounding the back of the bunkhouse, I yanked open the door of Pop’s old Chevy, tossing my jacket in the passenger seat as I climbed in and fired up the engine. I backed out of my space, put it in drive, and listened to the gravel flying behind me as I passed the bunkhouse, the barn, and then the main house. Once I was on the driveway, I pressed down on the gas, the old engine roaring through the night.

I’m coming, Wildflower.

I never broke my promise.