Chapter Seven
She had no idea what she had been expecting, but this wasn’t it. When they pulled up to the quadrant of Four Corners that
was known as Sullivan’s Point, there was a surplus of food already set up on long tables out in front of the barn. There were
big propane heaters with lively flames set up around the place, designed to keep everybody warm. There were also musicians
carrying instruments over to an area that had been fashioned into a small stage.
There was a big bonfire roaring off to the side with chairs around it, and there was a table with solo cups full of beer.
“This is something,” she said.
“Yeah. Typically, we try to get to the meeting as quickly as possible. All the families, and all the ranch hands, plus some
members of the community, come to hear new orders of business, but mostly it’s an excuse to party. To stay connected.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
It was strange, because she couldn’t really imagine Denver being social on this level.
It was interesting. Definitely a good way to keep everybody connected.
She could see the point of it when you lived in a place this big.
But she also had to wonder if it wasn’t something that suited him entirely.
It probably seemed like extra. Extra connections, extra work.
Maybe it was presumptuous of her to guess that. But she felt like she identified with him. Felt like she understood him.
Maybe.
“This isn’t really your scene, is it?”
She didn’t look at him when she asked. She could feel him look at her. “How did you guess?”
“It wouldn’t be mine.”
She could tell him that she wondered if perhaps their experiences as reluctant heads of the household had turned them into
a similar type. But she had a feeling she didn’t really need to say it. Because of all the people, Denver had actually seen
some of it.
Even though they had never spoken during all that time.
He had seen the house. He had seen her the day that she lost her dad. Dry-eyed.
There were some deep things about her that Denver King might know better than anybody else.
So perhaps it was just self-defense that she wanted to believe there was maybe something equally real that she knew about
him. When she couldn’t be entirely certain that was true.
“I show up, though. I make food. I do the thing.”
“Don’t we all.”
“This way.” Denver touched a spot low on her back, and she jolted. She hadn’t meant to react. But his touch was like an electric
wire. Something she really was not used to. Having a reaction to a man that she couldn’t control.
What was the point of that? She didn’t see the point in any kind of association with a man that didn’t simply . . . give her
a nice evening, and let her go on her way without ever thinking about the guy again.
This was . . . She didn’t like it. It was one thing to think he was good-looking. It was another to not be able to control a frazzled response to him just because he had put his hand lightly on her clothed skin.
“Sorry,” he said, his tone mild, but a little bit too knowing.
She couldn’t help but look at him. She saw low, banked fire in his eyes. Dammit. He had felt it too.
He had touched her and felt that exact same over-the-top jolt that she had.
That was inconvenient as hell.
That she knew it. He could feel whatever he wanted to. She just didn’t want him sharing it with her.
She moved away from him, and when they walked into the room, it was already full. His siblings were there, and she suddenly
felt a little bit awkward coming in with him. Like she was the one meeting the family. Like Abigail had just been talking
about doing with Alejandro. Even though this was not that. Not even close.
Still, they found themselves having to squeeze close to each other in two folding chairs at the end of his family line.
Sawyer Garrett, who she knew by sight, though not really as a person, made his way up to the front of the room then.
“All right. We have a couple of items of business today. First we’re going to have Fia King come up and give a report on the
farm store, then we will have a discussion about the dividends for those who invested. And after that, Denver King has an
item of business to introduce, with guest speaker Sheena Patrick.”
Hearing her name in this context, connected to this place, made a zip of discomfort blossom in her midsection. Or maybe that
was just stage fright. Not that she would have ever said she was the kind of person that got stage fright.
She did find herself more interested than she would’ve thought in the business overall.
It was interesting to hear how they ran the place.
Interesting to hear everybody speak their own piece.
Sawyer, for his part, seemed to be the showrunner.
And he disseminated information with neutral clarity, which made it easy to see why he was the mouthpiece for the place.
She found herself curious. Not just about the facts on how they formed this place but also the more personal aspect of it.
Especially knowing what she did about Denver. That he found this kind of thing difficult.
Too soon, it was their turn to speak.
She followed him up to the raised platform at the front of the barn.
“Hi,” she said, into the microphone they had set up there. “I’m Sheena Patrick. I live a few miles out of town. Most of you
know me because until recently I was tending bar at Smokey’s.” She proceeded to present the business idea, and then Denver
came in and talked about the logistics, that he was financing it and that his portion of the profits would be going back into
the collective. That information surprised her.
“If there are any strong objections to the bar, speak now,” said Denver.
There was a ripple in the room, and people talked to each other, but nobody spoke up in objection.
“Then we consider this a done deal,” he said. “The bar is going to at least have a soft open around the time of the Christmas
party.”
“Do we get discounts?” one of the ranch hands asked.
“Definitely,” said Sheena. “And I’ll probably have a punch card system of some kind. Or maybe even a membership. It seems
to me that the people who live on the ranch ought to be able to use all the facilities.”
That earned her a pretty broad approval.
And then it was over. Just like that. Painless.
She didn’t know why she had thought it would be difficult.
Maybe because she wasn’t used to people just talking to her.
She was more of an acquired taste than an instant delight.
She knew that. But maybe it was just that the idea was good enough that it didn’t matter it had come from her.
When the meeting was over a few people came up to talk to both of them, but not many. She had a feeling both she and Denver
gave off vibes that suggested they didn’t exactly want to spend the whole evening chatting it up with everybody.
It was almost funny.
He gestured with his head toward the door, and she went with him.
They slipped out into a darker corner of the outside area. The sun had gone down since the meeting had started. “Let’s get
some food.”
“So I’m curious,” she said. “How exactly did you guys get together to form this collective? When did it happen? How?”
“Oh. I never really had to tell the story before. You know a little bit about Gus McCloud, right?”
She shook her head. “Not really.
“His dad tried to burn them alive. True story. So, as much of an asshole as our dads were, it wasn’t like that.”
“Good God,” she said.
“Yep. But fast forward, and Seamus McCloud went after one of Gus’s younger brothers.
Gus beat the hell out of him and the guy ran off.
There were rumors for a lot of years that Gus actually killed him.
I think Gus got some mileage out of that.
But I always knew he hadn’t done it. Because I know what it’s like.
To have that dad that’s monster enough you know you have to make sure you aren’t him.
But anyway. Around that time, everything went down with my dad.
When your dad got shot and killed, when he got arrested.
Then it was easy to take control of the ranch, and once he got out of prison, I had made money in the poker circuit.
And that was when I bought them out. But it was around that time when both of them were removed from the equation that we got together and decided that we needed to do something different with the place.
That we needed to make a change. Back in the eighteen hundreds, Four Corners was founded as a collective.
But over the years, it had splintered. And there were reasons for that.
The Kings were always doing things their own way.
They were always doing things under the radar.
Making profits they weren’t sharing, all of that. ”
“That’s why you’re doing it the way you’re doing it now.”
“Yeah. Part of me wanted to keep it from everybody to avoid the headache, but at the end of the day, it doesn’t really feel
right. Not given the history of everything. You know, the saloon and all of that.”
“Your great-great-great, whatever, grandpa was out there with prostitutes and poker games?”
“He was indeed. I don’t know. We were always the black sheep. And I guess in our own way we’ve all taken it upon ourselves
to try and lessen the blight a little bit.”
“You’ve done it quite a lot, I would say.”
“But you still don’t trust me.”
“Listen. I trust you as much as I trust anybody. It’s just that I don’t trust anybody. No one but myself. That’s life, as
far as I can tell. Every man for himself.”
“That’s definitely how I’ve seen it. Always.”
“It’s unavoidable. At least, when you have the experiences we do.”
“Fair.”
“But still, you decided that the way forward, the way to redeem yourself was to do all of this. Even though you clearly don’t
love it.”
“I do,” he said.