4. What I Am Is a Reckoning – Roman
Chapter 4
What I Am Is a Reckoning
PLAYLIST: ”WHEN THE SUN TURNS BLACK” BY CANNON-GRAHAM
ROMAN
My chest squeezed so tight I had to step outside the hospital room so I could catch my breath. I leaned a shoulder against the wall and tipped my head back, staring up at the ceiling with unfocused, unseeing eyes.
Leave it to Zoe to respect her father’s wishes, and in her very next breath, hit him with the promise of hypothetical grandbabies.
I’d thought about having a family with Zoe more times than I could count, imagined what our kids might be like if we ever had any, but I forced myself to let those thoughts go when she moved to Miami.
In less than a minute and a single conversation, those thoughts came roaring back to life and threatened to overwhelm me.
Only problem is Zoe’s made it clear my ring is just business to her, nothing more than keeping both our asses out of jail... if I can even manage to do that.
Zoe’s voice carried out of the hospital room, clear and warm and full of love. “Why don’t you stay here tonight and get some rest, Daddy? Think things over after you’ve had some sleep, and call me in the morning, okay?”
I’d cut off my left arm to hear her talk to me like that, if I thought it’d do any good.
“Well, it’s not like I can be useful back at the ranch right now anyway, so I reckon I will get some rest tonight. I know Twisted Creek is in excellent hands between you and Roman. I can trust that everything will be taken care of.” Mr. Brandt coughed, and the violent, wet sound of it made me shudder from head to toe.
I stood there in the hall, reeling from everything I’d just heard, and shamelessly eavesdropping on their conversation, wishing I could be a part of it. I didn’t belong in there with them, though, not really. After all, Zoe made it clear before she left that I’m the help and nothing more, and she’d done nothing to show me otherwise since she came back.
“I love you, daddy. I’ll be expecting a call from you first thing in the morning, okay?”
“I love you too, sweet pea. I’ll check in bright and early. You go ahead with Roman and get settled back in at the ranch. You just let him know if you need anything at all. He’ll take care of it.”
“I know he will, Daddy. Talk to you tomorrow morning.”
“Bye, sugar. Y’all drive safe.” Mr. Brandt hacked again, phlegm rattling in his throat and chest, leaving him panting for breath.
“We will, Daddy. I promise.”
The sound of Zoe kissing her father on the cheek, followed by the sure and steady click of her stilettos on the hospital’s polished tile floor, let me know she was on her way out of the hospital room.
I straightened up from where I’d been leaning against the wall and fell into step beside her as she marched toward the elevator.
Neither of us spoke until we were alone in the elevator and on our way back to the first floor.
“What the hell was that?” The words burst out of me unbidden, but I didn’t regret voicing them.
“What the hell was what?” Zoe sniffed and crossed her arms, staring down at the elevator floor as if she expected it to open and swallow her up at any second.
“Don’t give me that shit, Zoe. You know what. Letting your father believe you’re moving back home for good? Not telling him that our so-called engagement is all about protection and nothing more? Going so far as to say we’re getting married soon? I don’t enjoy lying to your father?—”
Zoe shrugged and gave me a palms-up gesture that made me want to shake her until her teeth rattled. “I’m not exactly thrilled by the prospect of living a lie, either, but I won’t hesitate to do it—and do a damn good job of it, at that—if that’s what it takes for my father to have peace of mind right now.”
I shifted from one foot to the other, my heart racing and my mind scrambling through a million possibilities at once, none of which made a whole lot of sense in the moment. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“You’re the one who wanted to play the fake engagement card, Roman, but you’re getting more than you bargained for this time.”
Zoe took a step closer to me, poking me in the chest and crowding my space like a woman who thought she was six feet tall and bulletproof. At five foot nothing she was far from tall, but that wild, wolfish look in her eyes had me half believing she might just be bulletproof.
Why does it suddenly feel like the tables have turned on me?
I cleared my throat and worked to pry my tongue loose from the roof of my desert-dry mouth. “You’re overwrought, and you’re not thinking straight, Zoe.”
I gently gripped her wrist and pried her jabbing finger away from my chest, holding her hand at a safe distance as I stared down at her, trying to feel out exactly how far she was willing to take the things she’d just said to her father in that hospital room.
Damn her, and damn the years she spent in the business world developing such a good, unreadable poker face. She was easy enough to read when I had her off-balance, but now? Now I might be in over my head because she’s on total lockdown, and I have no idea what she’s thinking.
Zoe shook her head and arched a brow at me. “I’m thinking clearer than I have in years. I’ll do whatever it takes to make my daddy as happy as he was when he spotted your ring on my finger.”
I gritted my teeth, then huffed out a frustrated sigh. “Pretend I’m a dumb as dirt cowboy and spell out whatever it is you’re trying to say to me.”
Zoe’s lip curled in a near-feral snarl. “You think you’re the only one who’s willing to cross lines to save your ass and my family’s ranch? Think again.”
My hands shook and my heart pounded so hard I could hear my pulse roaring in my ears. “Spit it out, Zoe. Tell me what you really mean.”
Zoe gestured to the engagement ring on her finger. “If my father is dying of lung cancer and, God forbid, potentially refusing any treatment for it, I want him to die happy, knowing that we’re together and the ranch is in the best possible hands.”
Just like that, she knocked the wind out of me, and I couldn’t think straight, much less breathe. “I’m fine with your father knowing the ranch is in expert hands between the two of us, but I don’t want to lie to him about the reality of our relationship, not after everything he’s done for me.”
Zoe’s spine snapped ramrod-straight, and she locked gazes with me, her green eyes blazing with determination. “I’ll marry you for real, if that’s what it takes to put my father’s mind at ease and safeguard Twisted Creek.”
“I beg your pardon?” The elevator spun around us and I went light-headed.
Surely I didn’t just hear what I thought I heard?
My heartbeat turned erratic, and I struggled to keep my breathing calm and even. If she really meant it—and I was pretty damn sure she didn’t because how could she possibly mean it—it was a better opportunity than anything I dared to hope for when she told me she was coming home to check on her father after I told her he’d collapsed.
Zoe gave me a grim, decisive little pat on the back. “You wanted a fiancee? Well, congratulations, buddy, because I’ll do you one better than that. You’ve got yourself a wife, but Daddy can never know the truth, Roman. Not ever.”
The elevator doors slid open, and Zoe strode out into the hospital lobby like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on me that I would never have seen coming in a million years.
She doesn’t mean it. She can’t. She’s just freaking out about her dad being sick, and as much as I’d love to just take what she said and run with it, I’m not sure I can.
It took the elevator doors almost closing with me still staring after her to shake me out of my thoughts. I jabbed the door open button, then jogged to catch up with her as she strode across the parking lot toward my truck. Too stunned to even begin to analyze what just happened, I beeped the truck un-locked and climbed in behind the wheel.
Zoe chewed on her bottom lip for a second and gave me some hardcore side-eye. “So, did you just suddenly lose the power of speech, or what?”
I shrugged and cranked the truck over. “I’m just thinking. That’s all.”
Zoe just nodded and stared out the window as we left Bozeman behind and headed for Twisted Creek Ranch in Blackwell. As we approached the outskirts of Blackwell, the sinking sun bathed the rugged Montana landscape and the distant mountains in a blazing orange glow that made it look like the entire world was burning down around us.
Neither of us made an effort to speak as we drove through Blackwell’s familiar streets, aiming for Twisted Creek Ranch a good way beyond the edge of town.
As we approached Tanner’s Hollow Farm—the small farm next door to Twisted Creek Ranch—Zoe sucked in a gasp, going rigid as all the color drained from her face. “Oh my God, that poor horse. I’m going to be sick.”
I slowed the truck, following her line of sight to where a man in khaki pants and a polo shirt stood, violently whipping a malnourished buckskin colt that was hitched to a fencepost by its reins.
It can’t get away from him.
White-hot rage boiled my blood as I pulled the truck off onto the shoulder and slammed it in park.
“Stay in the truck, baby. I’ve gotta see a man about a horse.” I growled the words through gritted teeth. “My Glock is in the glove box if you need it.”
Zoe’s face crumpled with horror and rage, but she gave a jerky nod, hot tears leaking down her cheeks as she stared out the window, apparently unable to look away from the sorry piece of shit whipping the horse.
“What are you going to do?” Zoe’s voice was hoarse, as if it pained her to speak.
I cracked my knuckles and shrugged. “I’m going to make him stop beating that horse, one way or another.”
Zoe bit her lip. “I’d tell you to be careful, but judging by that look in your eyes, I don’t think you’re the one who needs a warning.”
I barked out a dark chuckle, shaking my head as I shoved the truck door open and hopped out, slamming it shut behind me.
Sucking in a deep breath, I ran and vaulted over the fence into the pasture. The asshole was so busy cussing the colt for a sorry bastard and whipping it while it whinnied and roared in protest to hear or see me coming.
With grim satisfaction, I grabbed the man by the back of his polo shirt, hauled him away from the frightened colt, and body-slammed him on the ground back-first. Baring my teeth at the bastard in a feral smile, I wrenched the whip he’d been using right out of his hand.
The man glared up at me, wild-eyed and reeking of cheap whiskey, his bloodshot gaze darting back and forth between my smiling face and the whip in my hand. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
I eyed his black polo shirt and the red embroidery above the breast pocket. Michaelson Inc. “Don’t you worry about who I am. It’s what I am that should concern you.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, what are you then?”
Rolling my shoulders to loosen them up, I cracked my neck and flicked the whip a little, getting a feel for it.
“What I am is a reckoning... your reckoning.”
“Fuck you, cowboy.” The polo-wearing prick staggered to his feet, then tried to take a swing at me.
I dodged the punch with ease and snorted. Raising the whip, I gave it a warning crack near his feet, forcing him to stagger back a couple of steps.
“Watch it, asshole.” The man spat, the wad of spit barely missing the toe of my boot.
I sighed and shook my head. “You’ve got two options here. Option one: be smart, keep your damn hands to yourself, and let my fiancee buy this horse off you right now. Option two: you can be a dumb son of a bitch and hit me. If you hit me, I’m going to use this whip and beat you like you beat that horse, and then I’m going to take the horse, anyway. Pick your poison.”
“Like I said, fuck you. This here is Mr. Michaelson’s horse.” Dickwad growled, lunging toward me and taking another wild swing.
The drunk asshole was quicker than I anticipated, and too close for the whip to be effective, so I jumped back instead, leaving him to fall flat on his face in the dirt. “Son of a bitch!”
The man bellowed and thumped the ground with his fist as I backed up and readied the whip. When he stood, I was ready and waiting for his next move.
“You want to re-think your course of action, I promise.” I cracked the whip once, lashing it across his thighs to stress my point. “Hurts, doesn’t it? Let that be a lesson to you about how not to treat animals. Give me another excuse to show you how that horse felt while you were beating it. I’m begging you.”
The man doubled over, grabbing his thighs, howling in agony. “And what if I call the cops on you?”
I shrugged and drew back the whip, prepared to strike again if he felt compelled to push me. “Try me, asshole. When they get here, I’ll show them what you did to this horse, and they’ll lock you up for animal cruelty.”
The man held his hands up in surrender, his unblinking gaze locked on the whip. “Take the goddamn horse, then. Bastard’s more trouble than he’s worth, anyway.”
Victory always tastes sweet, but knowing I saved the horse from a lifetime of cruelty makes it that much sweeter.
I couldn’t help grinning. “Good choice. Have your boss send the bill for him to Twisted Creek Ranch and I’ll have my fiancee mail you a check for him.”
The drunk asshole staggered away, muttering to himself under his breath, and I jogged over to the fence where my truck was parked. I tossed the whip into the bed of my truck.
“What’re you taking the whip for?” Zoe called out of her open window.
“I just don’t want that bastard to have it. Do me a favor and open up the trailer so we can get him home.”
Zoe nodded and hopped out of the truck as I turned and approached the still-frightened colt, slow and gentle as I could be, taking my time and talking to him in low, soothing tones.
“Easy, fella. It’s all gonna be all right now. Shh.”
I reached up, stroking his neck and murmuring to him until he was calm enough for me to un-hitch the reins from the fencepost and lead him out of the gate and into the waiting horse trailer.
“Let’s go home, big guy. I’m gonna make damn sure nothing like that ever happens to you again.”
As I climbed back behind the wheel of the truck, Zoe reached over and squeezed my hand. “Thank you for saving him.”
Without thinking, I lifted her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles. “I told him to have his boss send the bill for the horse to Twisted Creek Ranch, and we’d pay for him. I hope that’s okay?”
Zoe’s cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, but she gave a firm nod. “Absolutely. Whatever it takes to make sure he’s never abused again, I’ll pay it.”
I gritted my teeth and sighed as I pulled back out onto the road, my gut knotted with dread. “I just hope we don’t end up paying for it in more ways than one. That guy threatened to call the cops on me.”
* * *
The truck rattled down the long dirt drive leading to Twisted Creek Ranch, the weight of the day pressing down on me like a damn lead blanket. As I killed the engine, the trailer shifted behind us, the colt inside letting out a sharp, nervous whinny.
Zoe leaned her head against the window, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but still sharp as she scanned the yard. She straightened slightly when a figure emerged from the barn, wiping his hands on a rag.
Rick Moore.
He’d come to Montana straight out of high school, leaving Alabama and his small-town roots in Bay Minette behind for wide-open skies and steady work. Now, at just 21—barely old enough to buy a beer—Rick had proven himself to be one of the hardest workers on the ranch. He didn’t cut corners, didn’t grumble, and didn’t expect anything he didn’t earn. His strong Southern drawl set him apart, a constant reminder of where he’d come from, and the man worked like he was trying to prove something to himself. I respected that.
Unlike Cody Jacobson—who barely scraped by doing the bare minimum and only stuck around because Mr. Brandt was sick, dealing with the early stages of lung cancer, and didn’t have the time or the energy to fire him—Rick was reliable. Dependable. The kind of guy who didn’t need to be told what to do twice.
His stride slowed when he saw the trailer, his brow furrowing like he already knew this wasn’t just a routine trip.
“What’d you bring back now, York?” Rick called, his voice carrying that rich Alabama drawl, each word slow and deliberate. He tucked the rag into his back pocket as he strode closer. “That trailer’s seen more action than I have all week.”
I climbed out of the truck, my boots crunching on the gravel as I walked toward him.
“Michaelson’s man decided to play cowboy with a whip,” I said, the anger from earlier still simmering in my chest. “We couldn’t leave the colt with him at Tanner’s Hollow Farm.”
Rick shook his head as he stepped closer, his expression darkening.
“Figures.” He glanced at the trailer, his sharp eyes assessing the situation. “Need a hand?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Let’s get him unloaded.”
Rick moved to the side of the trailer, his movements efficient and deliberate. The colt’s eyes rolled nervously as the trailer door swung open, its sides heaving with each labored breath. Rick let out a low, calming murmur, the kind of thing that always seemed to work better than any command.
“Poor guy’s been through hell,” Rick said softly, his hand brushing lightly against the colt’s neck. “Let me grab the halter and lead.”
Zoe stepped out of the truck, lingering by the trailer as Rick and I worked to steady the colt. She didn’t say much, just watched quietly, her arms folded as if she was trying to hold herself together.
The colt snorted and shifted, but Rick’s touch stayed steady, his voice low and reassuring as he fastened the halter and clipped on the lead.
“Easy, boy,” Rick murmured. “We’ve got you now. You’re safe.”
I held the colt steady as Rick eased him down the ramp. Once on solid ground, the colt shivered but didn’t try to bolt. Rick handed me the lead for a moment while he gave the horse a quick once-over, his practiced hands moving over its trembling frame.
Zoe’s voice broke the silence. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”
Rick glanced her way, his expression softening just a little.
“It’ll take time, but he’s got a good chance now that he’s in better hands,” he said. “You did the right thing bringing him here.”
Zoe’s shoulders relaxed just a fraction, but I could see the weight of everything still hanging heavy in her eyes. She didn’t need to say it, and neither did I—we both knew this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Rick gave the colt a gentle pat, then looked at me. “Let’s get him settled. Looks like it’s been one hell of a day.”
He wasn’t wrong. And as we led the colt toward the barn, I couldn’t help but wonder how many more days like this we’d have before Michaelson and his people finally left us in peace.
Or if they would ever do any such thing.