Chapter Twenty-Five #2
“For what?” Cash snapped. “You said it yourself, didn’t you? He wants the land and Josie, and I ain’t willing to part with either.”
“We could at least try to cut our losses!” Beau yelled. “Before we lose everything!”
“That so? You’re the biggest yellow-bellied dog I’ve ever met!” Cash bit out, leaping to his feet and stalking toward Beau. “It takes nothin’ but cowardice to give up a woman and a baby to save your own hide!”
Beau grabbed Cash’s shirt and reared his fist back.
Cash gave a savage grin. “Do it. I dare you.”
“That’s enough!” Luke barked, pushing himself between the two of them as their breathing turned ragged.
Finally, Beau released the front of Cash’s shirt. Cash turned away, yanking his knife out of the arm of his rocking chair with a savage tug. “Enough,” he repeated. “You’re right… it’s enough.”
He took a deep, shuddering breath, and he heard Beau do the same.
Luke still stood between them. Finally, Cash looked back at Beau, folding his arms resentfully.
“We’re gonna find another way. I don’t care what it takes.
But we’re not giving in to Remington, and Josie ain’t gonna be any part of a deal. ”
Beau studied him for a long, heavy moment before sighing and rubbing his hands over his face. He looked suddenly broken, defeated. “I just hope you both know what you’re doing,” he muttered before turning away from Luke and stalking across the yard toward the bunkhouse.
Luke brushed a hand gently on Cash’s shoulder. “Get some rest. We’ll figure this out tomorrow.”
Just then, the door creaked open, and the other ranch hands and Hank came shuffling out, wearing faintly guilty, worried expressions. They must have overheard the exchange. Cash glanced back at the front door, suddenly distracted. Had Josie overheard any of that?
Hank patted him hard on the shoulder as the others moved in a line down the porch steps out into the yard. “Hang in there, son,” he whispered.
Cash wasn’t sure if it was everything all at once, or just Hank—but something about those words choked him. A large lump lodged itself in his throat. The lids of his eyes burned and his vision blurred.
“Darn it…” he hissed before turning back to walk inside. He needed to find out how much Josie had heard.
He pushed open the door, stepping inside, and saw at once that the fire must have burned down in the sitting room—the hall was almost completely dark. How long was I outside?
His body ached as he kicked off his heavy boots by the door and walked down the hall to the kitchen, expecting to see some sign that she was still there.
But the kitchen was empty. No dirty dishes. No slow-burning candles. And certainly no Josie. The entire place was spotless, crockery stacked neatly, table wiped clean. Even the cleaning rags and towels were hanging neatly on their hooks. She had already cleaned up for the night.
Cash ran a hand through his hair and exhaled sharply. It felt wrong—the emptiness of the house. She never went to bed before he did, and he hated that he’d been outside sulking now.
She definitely heard us outside.
Cash turned to walk back to the sitting room, feet dragging, shoulders slumped in sadness. He wished now more than anything that he hadn’t skipped supper. Eating her food is the best part of my day.
He went into the sitting room and lowered himself into the chair next to the fireplace, running his fingers absentmindedly along the armrest. Then he tipped his head back with a heavy sigh. Get yourself together.
Selling Josie out to Remington or that coward Pierce had never been an option in his mind. The fact that Beau had even considered a deal—any deal—made his body shake with rage, even now.
For those men, it wasn’t about Josie. Not really.
He knew men like Pierce and Remington. Their deal had nothing to do with Josie or Samuel. It was about power. It was about control.
Small men always wanted to control something, to have power over something.
Remington had always wanted the ranch. Josie was just one more excuse for him to take it.
He had been waiting for an opportune moment like this ever since he’d first come to Austin.
He had been watching them, circling like a coyote stalking a dying calf.
And now, he was closing in for the kill.
Cash ground his teeth together, staring into the fire as frustration began to take over.
None of this is Josie’s fault.
She hadn’t asked for any of it—for Remington’s interest in money, for the land war that had been brewing since Pa was still alive.
She certainly hadn’t asked for Pierce to abuse her sister.
She didn’t ask for her sister to die. She didn’t ask to take care of her sister’s son, spend her entire life running away from the boy’s father.
She hadn’t asked for any of it. All she had ever tried to do was what was right by everyone. She had hidden herself, kept Samuel safe, cleaned up mess after mess.
And for what? For me to yell at her?
Guilt washed over him, and he closed his eyes, trying to will himself to keep breathing, push out the exhaustion.
I have to make this right. No matter how helpless he felt, there had to be something he could do that would tip the scales in the right direction.
Even if it was only to tell Josie that it wasn’t her fault. That she wasn’t ever going to be a bargaining chip. That he hadn’t meant what he’d said to her—that she wasn’t the problem. She’d never been the problem.
She was so much more than that.