5. Time Isn’t Enough – Zoe
Chapter 5
Time Isn’t Enough
PLAYLIST: ”LABYRINTH” BY TAYLOR SWIFT
ZOE
The next morning, I stifled a yawn and stared across the paddock through bleary eyes. The abused horse somehow looked even worse in the early morning light, as the veterinarian pulled up in her livestock exam truck.
Roman gently stroked the colt’s neck as he fed it a slice of apple. As if sensing my gaze on him, he looked up, his eyes locking with mine. Something in the air crackled to life between us, like a tingle of static electricity waiting to strike. Giving the horse one more gentle pat, he let himself out of the paddock and walked over to stand beside me.
“You look exhausted, Zo.”
God, nobody’s called me Zo in ten years.
My heart ached at the familiar nickname, and my eyes stung with the threat of tears. I blinked furiously, banishing the notion.
Shaking off the tug of nostalgia, I snorted and rolled my eyes at him. “And you have an astounding grasp on the obvious.”
“Good morning to you, too. You’re a ray of fucking sunshine today,” Roman grumbled, shaking his head.
I gritted my teeth and turned to face him fully, needing him to feel the full force of my glare. “You started it. No woman wants to hear that she looks like shit first thing in the morning.”
Roman growled, taking his black Stetson off and running his hand through his hair before jamming the hat back on his head. “Don’t put words in my mouth like that, damn it. I didn’t say you look like shit. I just said you look exhausted, as you should be. Yesterday was a hell of a day.”
Sighing, I reached up and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Sorry. A decade passing hasn’t changed the fact that I’m not exactly a morning person.”
Roman offered me a bittersweet half-smile. “I remember.”
My mind almost wandered back to what Roman was like as a teenager, what he was like at twenty, what we were like together, but it set off all kinds of alarm bells in my head, and I slammed on the brakes on that train of thought.
I’m not fucking going there. I left Blackwell because I wanted to forget.
I opted to change the subject instead. “Who could rest easy after a day like yesterday, though? Not me. Not with everything that happened.”
Despite going straight from work to the airport and barely dozing on my flight from Miami to Bozeman, I didn’t sleep well on Roman’s couch, and I was feeling it, every bone in my body aching with exhaustion.
Part of me wanted to roll over and go back to sleep when Roman shook me awake at 6:30 in the morning to let me know the vet was on her way to check out the colt he’d rescued, but I couldn’t do it. I wanted—no, needed—to be there when the vet checked him out, to know he was going to be all right after everything he’d been through.
My chest squeezed like an iron band had closed around it and was getting smaller by the second, my heart aching for the poor, mistreated animal.
Clutching my cup of coffee in both hands, trying to warm them despite the early morning chill still hanging in the air, I blinked the sleep out of my eyes and took a sip of the near-scalding liquid.
“How is he ever going to be able to truly trust a human being again?” My gaze locked on a spot where the whip had drawn blood, the dark, crusty blotch matting his beautiful buckskin fur just behind his shoulder.
Roman sidled a little closer to me, resting his arms on the paddock rail in front of us, his big, callused hands clasped together. “They say time heals all wounds?—”
Red-hot anger and an old, familiar hollow ache battled for dominance inside me. “That phrase is the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard in my life. I lost my mom twenty fucking years ago, and it hurts just as bad today as it did the day she died.”
“I know.” Roman’s voice was quiet and husky, gentle and reverent. “Grief is a whole different animal than what that colt is dealing with, though.”
“You’re probably right.”
I stared at the colt as the vet climbed out of her big rig, with a mobile livestock care center in tow behind it, and approached Roman. Something about the way she stared at him and didn’t even acknowledge my existence rankled my nerves.
He silently jerked his chin at the colt and the vet spun around, instantly following his silent order to check the animal first.
“You think he’s gonna be okay, though, given time?”
“She’s right. That time-heals-all-wounds mess is a big load of bullshit,” Rick said, his voice cutting through the tension between us. He adjusted his hat, his steady brown eyes locked on the colt. “Whoever came up with that clearly hasn’t lived enough to know better.”
I blinked at him, momentarily surprised, but his calm presence helped soften my anger. Rick tipped his hat toward me before nodding at the colt. “Time isn’t enough for somethin’ like that. He’s gonna need people he can trust, too.”
“You think he’ll ever trust again?” I asked, my voice quieter now.
Rick’s expression softened. “I’ve seen it happen. Takes a hell of a lot of patience and the right kind of folks. But yeah, it’s possible.”
Roman glanced at Rick. “He gets it. It’s not just time—it’s care.”
Taking another sip of my coffee, I nodded and gently bumped Roman’s hip with mine. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been with me when I spotted him.”
Roman grimaced, his gaze watching the vet’s every move as she examined the colt. “You probably would have been smart enough to call the cops on him, rather than diving into the situation head-first and thinking later.”
Gravel crunched in the distance, signaling another approaching vehicle. I turned to Roman and arched a brow at him. “Were you expecting anybody besides the vet today?”
Roman wordlessly shook his head, and Rick straightened, his expression sharpening as he glanced toward the drive.
The crest of the hill revealed an SUV with Deputy Sheriff emblazoned on the side, and my heart sank.
“You expecting company?” Rick asked, his voice low but steady.
“That’s certainly not the kind I want,” Roman muttered, planting his hands on his hips as the SUV pulled to a stop.
Rick’s gaze didn’t leave the vehicle as the deputy stepped out. “Michaelson already makin’ waves, I take it?”
“Looks like it,” Roman replied, his tone grim.
Roman blew out a gusty sigh as he stared the deputy down, waiting for whoever it was to climb out of the SUV. “Well, shit.”
Landon Blackwell climbed out of the SUV and lifted a hand in greeting. “Mind if I have a quick word with you, Mr. York?”
“Might as well go ahead and face the music, I guess.” I sighed, squinting at my old schoolmate, wondering just how much pull David Michaelson had within the sheriff’s department for one of them to be paying us a visit so bright and early.
“Might as well.” Roman nodded and started striding toward the SUV.
I scurried to keep up with him, having to take three strides to his every one to keep up.
Rick hung back, his sharp brown gaze locked on the scene as though assessing every move.
“How can I help you, deputy?” Roman’s voice was surprisingly calm and even, given the situation.
“I’ve got a few questions for you regarding a reported incidence of horse theft from Tanner’s Hollow Farm yesterday.” Landon jerked his chin at the buckskin colt the vet was in the process of treating. “That horse fits the description of the one that was stolen, as a matter of fact.”
White-hot rage blazed through my body from the top of my head to the tips of my toes at the outrageous accusation. Roman opened his mouth to respond, but I stepped around him, glaring up at Landon with righteous indignation.
“What I think you actually mean is you’re here to get our statements about the animal cruelty we witnessed and rescued that horse from yesterday.”
Behind me, I could feel Roman tensing, his presence steady but crackling with restrained frustration. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rick shift his stance, moving a step closer to us.
Landon blinked at me and took a half-step back, removing his hat and running a hand through his shoulder-length ash-brown hair. It wasn’t hard to see that he was caught off guard and trying to gather his thoughts. “I beg your pardon? Mr. Michaelson didn’t say anything about that when he came in to report that his horse was stolen.”
I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes. “Let’s pretend you’re actually here to do your due diligence, then, okay? Look at that horse, Landon. Look how malnourished and abused he is. Look at the wounds from where Mr. Michaelson’s employee was beating him with a whip!”
Rick’s voice cut in, low and steady, as he leaned slightly toward Roman. “He gonna cause trouble, or is this a courtesy call?”
Roman’s jaw clenched, but he muttered back, “We’ll see.”
Landon crossed his arms, narrowing his sharp brown eyes at me. “It’s Deputy Blackwell nowadays, and I’m sorry if I upset you, Ms. Brandt, but there’s no way to say one way or another where the horse might have gotten those injuries, and I can’t operate on hearsay?—”
I held up a hand and cut Landon off. “I’m going to stop you right there because there is a way to say for sure where the horse got the injuries. I witnessed Mr. Michaelson’s employee beating that horse with my own two eyes, and if you don’t believe me, I’ve got video evidence to prove it. I recorded the whole incident on my phone because I was afraid something like this would happen after Roman rescued that horse.”
“Easy, Zo.” Roman put a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I might not have gone about it the right way?—”
“Bullshit,” I snapped, shaking my head. “You saved that horse from a terrible fate, and that’s nothing to apologize for in my book.”
From his spot near the fence, Rick let out a low whistle, his voice barely loud enough for me to catch. “She’s got fire. I like it.”
Landon sighed and a muscle in his jaw ticked as he gritted his teeth. “You should have called us. We could have handled things the legal way.”
I threw my hands up in frustration. “We saw a horrible man doing terrible things to an innocent animal that was tied up and couldn’t get away, damn it. I was worried about stopping that asshole before he could hurt the horse any worse, and there’s no telling how long it would have taken a deputy to show up on the scene. Your daddy is a damn fine cattleman and a good man. He would have done the same exact thing Roman did if he was in Roman’s shoes, and you know it.”
When Landon questioned Roman’s actions, Rick’s voice cut in, low and measured. “Deputy, that horse didn’t have the time to wait for red tape and paperwork. Anyone with sense would’ve done the same.”
Landon’s chiseled cheeks turned red, and he bowed his head. I knew my words had struck true, knew that I was right, and his daddy would be ashamed of him for defending someone who’d abuse a horse like that.
Landon turned and strode over to the paddock fence, his gaze trained on the veterinarian. “In your professional opinion, what caused the wounds on that horse?”
The vet paused and looked up, meeting Landon’s gaze. “These wounds were definitely made by a whip, and if I were you, I’d be more concerned about locking up the guy who hurt this horse than trying to screw over the guy who saved it.”
I couldn’t help smiling, and wished I could give her a high five. “I couldn’t have said that better myself.”
Rick stood back again, arms crossed but his gaze steady, as though waiting for the next move. He shifted his weight slightly, letting his gaze flick between Roman and me before raising an eyebrow in silent question.
Roman’s lips twitched faintly, his nod barely perceptible, but an unspoken understanding passed between them as if they’d had an entire conversation.
“Reckon I’ve got work to do,” Rick said, his voice calm and measured. He adjusted his hat, the brim casting a shadow over his dark brown eyes. “Y’all look like you’ve got this handled.”
His gaze lingered on the colt for a moment longer, softening as he gave a small nod toward the animal. Then, without another word, he turned and strode off toward the barn, the quiet authority in his movements marking him as a man who knew his place—and when to step back.
Landon crossed his arms and scowled at me. “Why are you so determined to defend Roman? Last I heard, you two didn’t part on the best of terms when you left to go to Miami.”
“We kissed and made up.” I offered him a palms-up gesture, making sure to flash my engagement ring in the process. “I might disagree with Roman about a lot of things. He might infuriate me sometimes, but I wouldn’t be marrying him if I didn’t know that he’s a man who’s worth my respect and trust. Even if we weren’t getting married, I’d still have something to say about these ridiculous accusations, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let some rich, famous asshole have the sheriff’s department railroad my fiancé for doing the right thing.”
Roman slid an arm around my shoulders and pressed a kiss against my temple while I stared Landon down, raising a brow in challenge.
“Now, do you want to see that video evidence for the sake of actual justice, or are you just here to be some rich, famous asshole’s puppet?”
Landon winced and reached up, rubbing the back of his neck for a second before he held his hand out to me. “Let’s be clear on one thing: I’m not inclined to be anybody’s puppet, much less one who serves that high and mighty Hollywood asshole. I haven’t been a fan of his since he started summering out here and treating most of the locals like second-class citizens who should live and breathe to cater to people like him. Lemme see that video.”
“There’s the Landon Blackwell I grew up with.” I offered him a smile as I passed my phone over to him, with the video of yesterday’s incident all pulled up and ready for him to press play on it.
As Landon watched the video, I watched his face, studying his reactions as he watched how the alleged horse theft really played out. His expression darkened, brow furrowing and lips pressing into a thin line of disapproval. A muscle in his jaw ticked furiously as he watched the video. When he finished and passed it back to me, his brown eyes were blazing with the inner fire all the Blackwells had been known for, ever since they founded this town over two hundred years ago.
“You were right, Zoe. My father would have done the exact same thing Roman did in that situation. Seeing that kind of cruelty to an innocent animal, much less one that was tied up and couldn’t get away, makes me sick to my stomach.”
I leaned into Roman’s touch, drawing strength from his warm, steady presence as I held Landon’s gaze. “So... what are you going to do about the charges Michaelson is trying to bring against Roman?”
“I’m going to inform Mr. Michaelson that there is video evidence of his employee committing a horrific act of animal cruelty and see what he has to say about his bogus charges then. I’m certainly not of a mind to arrest Roman for saving that horse after what I’ve seen on this video. Can I email myself a copy of this video real quick?”
“Be my guest.” I nodded.
Roman cleared his throat and gave my waist a little squeeze. “We understand that you’re between a rock and a hard place, caught between the letter of the law and what you know in your bones is right.”
“Exactly.” I nodded and offered Landon another smile. “We appreciate you even being willing to hear us out and watch the video.”
Roman pushed a piece of gravel around with the toe of his boot. “I’m sure there are some people who might not have been willing to hear our side, video evidence or not.”
“Trust me, I know. “ Landon sighed, and motioned for us to move away from the paddock, so no one else could overhear our conversation. “I’d lose my job if anyone knew I told you this, but you two need to watch your backs. You have enemies within the sheriff’s department.”
Icy fear shuddered through me, raking its claws down my spine, leaving me shivering in its wake. “But who? And why?”
Landon looked around and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Mo Sheridan died about a month ago, and after years of Michael Carter pressuring him, he caved and made a deathbed confession to his nephew Colby Barton, who works with me in the sheriff’s department. Colby also happens to be real buddy-buddy with Michael, who’s always thought the two of you were somehow responsible for Missy’s death. I overheard the conversation Colby and Michael had with Sheriff Spencer that convinced him to re-open the case. Apparently, because of Mo’s close friendship with your father, Zoe, Mo withheld evidence when Missy Carter died… evidence that points to murder, rather than suicide.”
I stared at Landon, dumbfounded and uncomprehending, and a cold, sick, oily feeling settled deep in my gut, tying it in a painful knot. “But why would my father do something like that? Why would he pressure Mo to withhold evidence if Mo thought Missy was murdered?”
“My guess would be he did it to protect his only child because you and Missy had a huge, very public fight the day she died, a fight big enough that it would have put you right at the top of the suspect list if Missy’s death was investigated as a murder.”
Landon paused for a moment, as if trying to let his words sink in, and his gaze slid over to where Roman stood at my side. He’d gone as still as death, but he held Landon’s gaze as Landon plunged ahead.
“Not to mention that he didn’t want to lose his most loyal ranch hand, even if Roman was the reason you and Missy tied up for a fight.”