Chapter 14
Hadley
The wire tenses around the pliers, running the line tight. I twist it back ‘round itself and clamp it down. The sun beats down, sweat trickling down my neck and forearms, and my grip falters on the tool in my hand.
The pliers drop into the dirt.
“Fuck.”
Chester sways on his feet, tail swishing side to side as he chews on the bit, utterly bored at having to wait on me. I had to get out of the house. Besides the heat that crept in early this morning, I was restless. Levi mentioned the scouts had been in contact.
No news, in this case, is not good news. I don’t know if I can stomach another setback this rodeo season.
Fencing always helps.
Anything with my hands, really. I’m happiest when I’m busy. In the thick of it, Mom always says.
Honestly, I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t busy.
Chester sighs, and I huff at the impatient gelding, straining the next wire down. The tools are hot underhand, the sun blistering down. I readjust my hat, swiping sweat from my brow. The second the wire is taut and secure, I shove the tools back in the saddle pack and swing up into the saddle.
One man and his horse is not enough manpower for five thousand acres. My never-ending list of jobs, cattle work excluded, has me up before sunrise and working well into the dark most days.
We trot along the fence line until we come across another worn-out, sagging stretch. I dismount and have it fixed before pushing back up into the saddle and moving on.
This much country is a lot to cover on horseback, but the overdraft and farm mortgage didn’t extend far enough to purchase a tractor. So, the hard, slow way it is for this cowboy.
Besides, being in the saddle is my preference. But I wish I had help. Maybe if I’m drafted, I could hire a part-time ranch hand—other than my sisters, that is.
That would help clear the list of overdue tasks a little. Settling in, I sit back and squeeze Chester into a lope. He gives one playful shallow buck before lowering his head and picking up the pace.
“I got it . . .” I run a hand through my hair, taking a step back from the phone sitting on my tiny kitchen table in my old hut of a house.
“Fuck me, I’m in!”
“Congrats, bud.” Levi chuckles over speaker phone.
“Was it the Terminator ride?”
“Something like that. But hey, well done, Jones. You deserve to be part of a team. The Bravos are lucky to have you, man.”
I don’t know what to say. It’s what I’ve been hoping for now for months. Part of me thought it would never happen. Hell, this is a huge win. The paycheck could pull us out of this hole we’ve been in for years. And receiving the training and support of a team and a coach . . . Priceless.
“Enjoy the win, Jonesy. I’ll see you at the next one.”
Levi hangs up, and I sink onto the rickety wooden chair at the table. The list of things this makes good for us is a damn long one.
I can finally fix up this old farmhouse of mine.
Add those curtains in Mom’s room. Fix the rotted front porch on the main homestead.
Pay Kayley back and . . .
Fix my truck.
My phone buzzes across the table.
Maggie.
Elation spikes through me. It’s just the good news, right?
Who the hell am I kidding? The way my gut flips at her name on my phone screen. It keeps ringing before I realize I’m staring at it and not answering.
Hell.
I grab it up, answering. “Hey, Maggie. What’s up?”
She laughs. “Really? Congrats, Hadley.”
“Yeah, thanks.” I rub a hand behind my neck. All of a sudden, I’m fucking nervous. What’s that about?
“Still need a lift next weekend? Or are you good now that you’re rolling in sponsors and all that.” Maggie’s voice is lined with cheek. I can imagine her wide, beautiful smile under those stunning green eyes.
Lucky I’m sitting down . . . I run a hand through my hair. The realization of how far gone I am over this girl hits like a straight-up freight train.
“Hadley?”
“Yeah, sorry. A lift would be great.”
“Okay, good. I mean—grea—you know what, I’ll text you Friday.”
The phone goes dead.
I place it back on the table and stare at it longer than I should.
Huh.
A few hours later, I walk to the main farmhouse for dinner. Nia is cooking. Kales is home, and she is puttering around, organizing everyone as I step through the front screen door. It snaps behind me, and the girls and Mom all turn as one.
“Hey! There he is!” Their hands are up in the air, grins on their pretty faces. Kales closes in, hugging me with a slap on my back. “We’re so proud of you, Hads.”
I chuckle. “Thanks, but I have to keep the spot now.”
Nia rolls her eyes at me.
Gemma tosses the carrot she’s currently peeling. “Always Mr. Pessimistic.”
“Just being realistic. But the extra income will be good. Can finally get some things done around here.” I wave a hand around, heading to the kitchen cupboard and pulling out the almost empty bottle of Crown Royal whisky I keep here for special occasions.
I pour a nip in a glass as Mom appears by my side, a glass in her hand. I pour her a nip, and she clinks her glass to mine. “Well done, Hadley.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
We walk through the kitchen and onto the back porch.
As the screen snaps shut behind us, she lets out a shaky breath. “I was kind of hoping this would be your last year, you know. Now . . .”
“It’s the extra money we need to settle the debts. I won’t risk losing the ranch.”
She gives me a sad smile. “I’d lose this old ranch a thousand times over to keep you safe.”
“I’m always careful, and I know my limits.”
Molars grinding down, I tamp down the need to argue our current reality with her.
This ranch has been in our family, in her family, for three generations.
I will not be the one to let it slip through our fingers.
Over my dead body are we losing this place to the stiffs in suits at the bank so they can split it up, sell it off in pieces . . . No fucking way.
This is our home. The one stable thing my sisters and I have in our life.
I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure we keep it.
The back door opens and closes. Kayley appears by my side, a drink in her hand. “Need help with those weaners tomorrow?”
“Yeah, you got the time off still?”
“Sure do. We’re bringing them in and drafting off the bigger ones for the sale next week, right?”
“Yeah, anything that weighs out heavy enough.”
“I think Dane is wanting some this round.” Kayley sips her beer.
God knows how she drinks the stuff.
“How did the fences go?” Mom asks.
“Done. Got round the back fields, too.”
“Oh, great.” Mom wonders over to the swing seat, settling on it before closing her eyes.
Kayley’s gaze tracks her movements. “She’s been tired this week.”
My brows drop in a frown. “Keep an eye on her for me over the weekend, will you?”
“Yeah, I’ll be around anyway.”
“Good. Also, I’ll transfer that money back to you when I’m paid.”
“Nah, you won’t. I don’t need it, Hads.”
“Kayl—”
Her fine finger presses over my lips. “Hadley Matthew Jones, you have given this family more than anyone ever has. Keep the money. I want you to have it. Besides, you could use some new threads, big brother.”
I look down at my ripped work jeans and the T-shirt I’m wearing with a huge tear across one shoulder.
“Don’t make me take you clothes shopping, Hads.” She kisses my cheek before slipping back inside.
“She’s right, you know,” Mom pipes up, eyes still closed. “You look like something the cat dragged in.”
“Fair. But I’ve been busy.”
Mom’s eyes open. “No, you’ve been selfless too long.
We’re not blind or stupid. Stop giving everything you have for once.
New clothes are a start. Then fix your house up.
Go out and have a life. I want you to be happy.
” Her face twists as the words leave her mouth.
Like the way our family has been for the past decade is her biggest regret.
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.” I drop onto the chair by her side. She leans into me, and I wrap an arm around her shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Nothing to be sorry for, Mom. You got dealt a crappy hand.”
“I’m your mother. I’m supposed to take care of you, and instead you and Kayley became the parents your father and I couldn’t be.”
The long nights, Mom’s depression and mental health episodes rush me like a dead-end road does a runaway car. The fact she puts herself in the same category as that low-life piece of shit that caused her so much pain has a stone growing in my throat before it lodges tight.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be a normal mother for you, Hadley.”
The stone explodes, my jaw feathering.
I huff a strained sound and tug her closer. “Normal is overrated.” I dot a kiss to the crown of her head.
I swear to god, life can go fuck itself.
After a few minutes, she pushes from my hold, straightening her hair and giving me a tentative smile. “I meant to ask . . . where is your truck?”
“Broke down on the circuit. Got the part coming end of the week. Should bring her home Sunday, all things going to plan.”
“Oh. Then how did you get to the last event?”
My gut flips instantly.
“With one of the other rodeo folk. Carpool, you know.” Heat rises on my neck. What am I, fucking seventeen again?
Her eyes narrow as her head tilts. “Uh huh? Would this rodeo person be a woman?”
I’m too old for this shit. I tamp back the temptation to talk about Maggie. If my sisters get wind of anything, even a platonic something, I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Nah, one of the guys.”
Mom deflates, and I feel like the world’s biggest asshole. The glimmer of hope that flickered through her gaze dies out.
“Oh, that’s good, I guess.” She shifts her focus to the field behind the house where the horses graze.
I rise and head back inside.
In all truth, nothing lies between Maggie and me. At least nothing bar the one-sided attraction I have for the kindest, most stunning woman in the damn world.
I open the freezer and shove my head inside it, groaning.
Hell, the thought of the woman has my body on fire at the worst possible times. A chair scrapes behind me, and I jerk my face from the freezing space.
Nia’s shit-eating grin grows wide.
“Hadley has a crush.” Gemma’s eyes light up.
How the—?
Kayley . . . is a dead woman walking.
The sister in question turns back, her face tugged into a faux serious expression. The mashed potatoes in the bowl she’s working over hit the counter as I tug the tea towel from the oven handle and flick it around. Nia and Gem move to the opposite side of the dining table, as if that’ll save them.
For a heartbeat, nobody moves.
“Run,” I growl.
Their squeals tangle with bubbling laughter as they fly through the kitchen and out the back door, and I’m hot on their heels. Giggles smack me in the face as I burst past the back door and sprint after them barefoot over the grassy yard, gasping for breath around my own hearty laughter.
This right here is why I do what I do.
Period.