Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Olivia
I’m finishing up toasting the chicken quesadillas and getting ready to wrap them in portable foil pockets for eating in the field, when Ennis and Jake come back for lunch.
“Where’s Wylie?” I ask.
Ennis stands in the mud room and kicks off his boots. Jake is hanging up his hat and coat. Ennis shrugs.
“He never met me to fix the fence, so I called one of the ranch hands out to help me. Lazy, lovesick fart.”
I would be offended if I wasn’t comfortable with their banter. It’s so different from the way the elders and the brothers at the compound conduct themselves. Such formality and piety. They all lack the warmth and homeyness that I’ve discovered at Sterling Ranch. I never knew a family to behave the way that the Sterlings behave.
They talk rough, they rib each other constantly, but underneath it all, the brotherly love is evident. If circumstances called for it, I know those boys would take up for each other in a heartbeat.
“That’s weird,” I say, thinking nothing of it as Ennis and Jake devour their quesadillas standing up over the sink.
“Dang, you might be a better cook than Curly,” Ennis says with a mouth full of food.
Jake laughs. “Better not let Curly hear you say that.”
“Why not? He’s ready to retire anyway.”
While their compliments make me feel good, I’m worried about Wylie.
“What’re you staring at?” Ennis asks as I gaze out the window.
“Huh,” I say, noticing Ramsay trotting by the kitchen window. “Ramsay’s back, but Wylie’s not with him.”
I turn to look at Ennis and Jake, who are exchanging a look.
“That’s weird, right?” I ask.
Ennis drops the rest of his lunch on the counter and makes for the mud room. Jake is already at the back door, putting his hat back on. “Damn horse probably threw him. I told him no one in their right mind rides a stallion to do ranch work,” Ennis grumbles,
As for me, I don’t like that explanation. Ennis is placating me so I don’t panic, but underneath, he’s scared.
Jake and Ennis run to the utility barn. I follow them. One of them hops in a truck, and the other gets behind the wheel of one of the Gators.
“I’ll call you when we find him,” Jake says.
No way they’re leaving me alone. “Take me with you!” I shout, but they’re already backing out of the shed. “Go inside the house and lock the doors!” Ennis shouts, pointing at me.
I have a horrible feeling about all this.
I tear out of the shed, and with Wylie’s old boots on my feet, several sizes too big, it’s not suited for running balls to the wall. No way I’m going to lock myself in the house when Wylie’s missing.
Ramsay is pacing back and forth in front of the stable and needs me to tend to him.
I approach slowly from the side, keeping my distance.
“Ramsay. It’s okay.”
The stallion backs away from me, pawing the ground and snorting. His muscles are tense like he wants to kick, and his ears are flattened. On top of that, he’s crapping like the very definition of the phrase scared shitless.
“It’s okay, boy,” I say calmly, but I’m careful not to approach.
From behind me, the slide of metal against metal sounds, as Wylie’s 12 gauge Winchester is cocked.
Ramsay rears up.
All the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.
That’s when I remember, too late, that I’d stupidly left the Winchester on the gun rack in the stable.