Chapter Ten
Beau
Lance let out a cry in the distance as his brother and Mags shifted the herd to the left, maneuvering them to the other side of the field so we could set up a perimeter for the rangers. A few drops of sweat trickled down my neck as I approached Spirit, reaching into my saddle bag for my water as I heard Mason come up beside me.
He clapped me on the shoulder. “Hotter than a rodeo clown’s armpit out here,” he grumbled.
I pulled my hat off and tipped my head back, pouring some of the water over my face, groaning. “You would know,” I muttered before taking a drink, putting my hat back on.
Hooves thundered behind us, and I looked over my shoulder to find Denver atop Ranger, heading this way, the ranch owner’s face set as he commanded his horse to slow stop. Ranger neighed at me—or, rather, Spirit—and I felt my lips twitch. In my mind, those boys were best friends.
“They here yet?” Mason asked, referring to the team the Wildlife Warden was supposed to send out today.
“They are heading this way,” Den answered, his voice hard as he twisted his neck to look at the mountain. “Something is off with them.”
“What do you mean?” Mase asked, his eyes finding mine.
Clearing my throat, I went to put my water back in the saddle bag while explaining the situation, how Sheriff Bowen has been acting, how Paul the fuck face warden was treating our issue like it belonged on the back burner. The longer I kept talking, the more tense Mason became.
“You think Chase is losing his power?” he asked the both of us once I was done.
Before I could answer, Denver said, “If that’s the case, we can’t let that happen. I’m sending the twins into town tonight to do some digging. Lance is good at getting people to talk.”
“Because Lance is good at getting people to fucking drink with him,” I added.
Denver looked over the herd then, pulling his sunglasses off. “We can’t lose what we have here, boys. If we lose Chase, we lose our protection.”
“When’s the next town hall meeting?” Mason asked, petting his horse.
“Next Saturday night,” I told them.
“Well, Mayor Banks asked me to make an appearance. Apparently, she wants to draw in more tourists,” the bull rider said, looking up at his brother. “Know you don’t like the idea of Hayden becoming a tourist town, but maybe if I can sway the mayor, we can get Chase back on track.”
Denver grunted in reply.
“We need to get Chase out here,” I declared. “Away from…everyone and ask him what the hell is going on.”
“I agree.” Mason nodded.
“Right. We’ll try to do that before the next town hall. Let’s get this work done and get back home,” Denver said.
Minutes later, I was back in the saddle, and the workday continued. It wasn’t until the sun was beginning to set that all us cowboys started heading back, Mason veering off the left once we entered pasture two and Mags veering right, heading to his cabin. Mason and Harmony built a house last year behind pasture two, nestled just into the tree line, giving them one hell of a fucking view.
Part of me wondered if I would ever have my own house on this land, or if I would be like my father, living in the bunkhouse until I was old and gray with nothing to my name but a broken heart.
Abbie’s face flashed in my mind, and I looked to the left, the memory of the worst day of my life playing like a movie right before my eyes. We were in the middle of that field, me in jeans and a pearl snap, nervous as hell and her in a purple sun dress with her hair tied back. I’d gotten down on one knee, presented the ring I’d spent three years working for, and asked her to marry me.
I reached up and pressed down on the top of my hat, my jaw tight. “Doesn’t fucking matter,” I bit off to myself. “It never fucking did.”
Then, the barn and main house came into view, and I snapped the reins, commanding Spirit to run faster. Anger from that day settled on my shoulders, the feeling re-introducing itself to me. I’d thought I somehow managed to let go of the pain and move on with my life. And fuck me, I tried.
I really fucking did.
Days blended into months, and soon, I was running on autopilot. The only time I ever felt anything was when I was killing men who threatened Hallow Ranch and Hayden. I felt powerful—useful—on those dark night we reaped the souls of bad men. I was ready to end it at one point, the night Mags found me. That was my lowest point.
Abbie Spears ripped my heart out and smashed it underneath her boot when all I did was fucking love her like she pleaded to be loved.
I gave her everything and in return, she fucking destroyed me.
I flew by Denver and the twins, my body moving with Spirit, working in tandem as we cut through the summer air. As the corral drew closer and the bunkhouse came into view, the thought of seeing her there, in the bunkhouse, was almost too much to bear. My chest ached and I knew I couldn’t see her. Not right now, at least.
I still loved her.
I still needed to protect her.
Those things would never change, but I also needed to clear my fucking head.
I slowed Spirit down, his hooves pounding on the grass. “Easy, boy,” I cooed, clicking my tongue. I stared at the door of the bunkhouse in the distance, my mind and heart at war with each other. My heart wanted to see her, despite all the pain it had been through, but my mind…fucking hell, my mind was telling me to take her back to the city and let her deal with her own mess.
I bent my head, cursing myself and pinching the bridge of my nose.
I heard the rest of the cowboys come up behind me, and I knew they would stop and ask questions.
Questions I didn’t have the answers to.
Ride, Beau.
Ride until the only things on your mind is the beauty in front of you and the horse underneath you.
My father’s words echoed in my mind, words he said to me the day after Abbie left me.
I inhaled a deep breath as Denver called out to me, getting closer and closer by the second.
I couldn’t deal with this right now.
I wasn’t fucking strong enough.
Before I could let the self-hatred seep into my blood, I yanked on the reins and turned Spirit around. “One more ride, boy. Just stick with me for one last ride,” I murmured before snapping the reins and kicking my boots.
Spirit read me, and instead of being stubborn, he actually listened, taking off, leaving the barn, the bunkhouse, the questions, the feelings, and my woman behind.
“Yo! Beau, where you going?” Lawson called out as I flew by the three of them. I didn’t give them an answer, only focused on the beauty in front of me and the horse beneath me. I headed for the mountain, running parallel to the sunset.
“Come on, boy,” I hollered. “Let’s see if we can fucking fly tonight.”
I snapped the reins once more, and as the wind whipped around me, I felt like I could breathe easier.
In the distance, an owl called out, announcing nightfall as I threw another stick into the flames, listening to the wood crack and give way to the heat as sparks drifted up to the stars. The moon was high, the stars bright, and dinner had been served. I lifted up my plate, looking over to Spirit, who was tied to the nearest tree, his face stuffed into his feeding bag, his jaw working.
With a sigh, I lifted my fork and dug in, the smoky flavor of the trout bursting across my tongue as my gut rumbled, demanding more. I never went back to the bunkhouse. Instead, I rode out to the secondary barn and grabbed my camping pack.
I always kept one in there, just in case. Had since I was boy, hiding it in the barn loft, underneath the windowsill. It was where I also kept my fishing pole and extra feed for Spirit for days like this.
Days when I felt like I was losing my mind.
Once I finished my dinner, I rose to my feet and headed to the small stream that ran down the mountain from Denver and Mason’s mom, Jane Langston’s, trail. There was a spot about three-fourths the way up the mountain where she used to take the boys and take pictures. That was her spot and eventually, it became Denver’s spot. His wife, Valerie, was trapped in that spot when this side of the mountain was set on fire a couple of years ago. Now, the mountain was healing and so were Denver and Valerie.
I got down to my haunches, my leg muscles aching as I rinsed off my plate and fork.
I had to get back soon, or Denver would send the boys out to look for me. I didn’t want to go back. I wasn’t ready to face what awaited me. The truth was, I could stay out here for days—weeks if I didn’t have to work.
Something moved in the bushes in front of me, causing me to still, my eyes snapping to the spot. I slowly set down the plate but held the fork with one hand, ready to pull out my gun with the next.
A few seconds later, a small bunny came out before spotting me and dashing back into the safety of the bush. A small chuckle came from me then as I rose to my feet, turning back to the fire, pine needles crunching under my boots. An impatient neigh came from Spirit as I sat back on the ground and scooted my camping pack behind me. With the small fire to my left, I leaned back, resting my head against the bag, and took my hat off, putting it on my chest. The stars above tinkled, the crescent moon taking up the left side of the sky, the pale glow soothing me. I put a hand underneath my head, and my chest deflated as another sigh left me.
I’d been out here for hours.
I’d hoped that my fucking head would be cleared by now, but it was even more of a mess.
Everywhere I looked on this land now, I saw Abbie and me.
Our memories painted Hallow Ranch, haunting me.
It was never like this, not even before when the pain was still fresh and my bleeding, crushed heart was still on the ground like a damn carcass.
It was because she was here.
It was because, after six damn years, my fingers still burned after I touched her skin, I saw the longing in her eyes and the blush in her fucking cheeks.
She still wanted me.
None of it made sense.
I figured that when I saw her again, there would be nothing between us. At least, not from her side. I expected her to be cold, distant. She wasn’t.
She was still my stubborn, gorgeous wildflower, standing tall in a field hounded by harsh winters, scorching summers, and powerful storms. She stood tall and never fucking wavered. She never backed down. She fought me tooth and nail. She was strong as hell, overcoming her horrible childhood and standing on her own two feet, finding success in not only her career but also in her painting.
When I pulled out her shorts, the ones I made for her, earlier today and spotted the new paint stains on them, I was overjoyed. I was glad that over all these years, she didn’t lose that side of herself.
I was happy for her.
And it was slowly killing me.
I didn’t want to be happy for her.
I wanted to be happy with her. I wanted her to be happy with me.
I wanted the fairytale ending I promised her that night she left her mom’s house.
You’re free now, Abbie. It’s just you and me, riding off into the sunset now, baby.
I love you, Beau.
A sharp pain shot through my chest as those words rung in my years, and I closed my eyes, grinding my teeth together. I would never hear those words again, and I needed to destroy—no burn—the hope trying to manifest inside me.
Abbie was here for protection— my protection. Nothing more. Nothing less.
This time, my heart wouldn’t be on the chopping block.
This time, my heart didn’t get a say.
After a few more minutes under the stars, I killed the fire and rose to my feet.
That night, I left my heart by the stream, knowing damn well I wasn’t going to need it.
When I got back to the barn, the familiar light of the end of a cigarette glowed in the far corner. I shook my head, muttering something under my breath as I got off of Spirit and guided him inside, his hooves clicking under the wood floor.
“Mags,” I greeted the cigarette as I got close to him, veering to the right to open Spirit’s stall. The cowboy said nothing as I got my horse ready for sleep, refilling his water bin, giving him fresh hay and a quick brush down.
When I was done, I turned and faced the dark corner. “How long have you been waiting?” I asked, leaning against the wall.
The cigarette end glowed brighter for a moment as Mags took a drag. I heard him blow out the smoke and then the familiar footfalls of his boots came closer. When he stepped into the faint light, his expression was unreadable.
“Few hours,” he answered.
I nodded. “Abbie still here?”
A grunt came from him. “She is, but not where you want her.”
My muscles tensed, my back snapping straight. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
“Relax, Beau. She’s fine,” he said, taking another drag and walking by me, his spurs jingling as he went. Mine joined his as I followed him out of the barn, pulling off my hat. We stopped just outside the barn, my hand running through my hair, my body wanting sleep. “She’s just not in the bunkhouse.”
Inhaling a deep breath, I looked up to the main house, my brows coming together. I could understand Val inviting her to stay in the guest room, but I also knew Denver wouldn’t allow that. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Denver Langston wasn’t a fan of my ex. He would allow her to stay on his ranch, but in his house? That was a far stretch.
“Valerie found her then, yeah?” I assumed.
Mags dropped the bud of his cigarette on the ground, putting his boot over it and grinding it into the dirt and gravel.
“She’s at Mason’s, Beau.”
My head jerked. “What?”
“Soon as Harmony heard she was here, she came running, and despite Mase’s protests, Abbie ended up going with them,” he explained.
Harmony and Abbie?
“Is she okay? Was everyone alright?”
Mags’ dark eyes slid over to me. “Beau, I came out here for you about two hours ago. I wasn’t here when all that shit went down,” he grumbled, sounding thankful. “The twins caught me up on everything.”
I looked over to the bunkhouse, a new form of guilt settling over my shoulders.
“I should’ve come back,” I muttered.
“No, you needed time.”
My head shook, and I turned back to him, ready to disagree, but he leveled me with a look. “You’re wound tight, Beau. No telling what would’ve happened if you came back this afternoon without distancing yourself for a bit,” he said, his voice quiet. “You brought her back to where you’re trying to heal. It also happens to be the place where she hurt you—deeply.” He looked away, his eyes scanning the bunkhouse, the corral, and then the dark fields beyond it underneath his hat. “Hallow Ranch is your home, but it’s also your own version of hell. No one blames you for needing time, even if it was just a few hours.”
His words pierced something inside my soul.
Hallow Ranch is your home, but it’s also your own version of hell.
My throat worked. and when he looked back at me, I murmured, “This was never supposed to be my hell.”
“Unfortunately, we don’t get to decide where our heaven and hells are. That’s fate’s choice.” After a few moments of silence, he asked, “Now, are you alright? Or do I need to stay?”
That was Mags.
A lonely man.
A broken cowboy.
A damn good friend.
I clapped him on the shoulder. “Go back to your cabin. Get some sleep. We both need it.”
He grunted and readjusted his hat. “Damn right about that,” he grumbled, moving away from me, heading to his four-wheeler. “See you in the morning.”
I waited until his headlights were in the field, facing the tree line, before I moved, walking to the bunkhouse. With one hand on the doorknob, I looked up to the moon one last time. “My life was never supposed to be like this,” I whispered to the night sky, praying someone up there would realize their mistake.