10. Savannah
10
SAVANNAH
I can’t tell how long it’s been since Huxley left with my father. The clock seems irrelevant in the monotonous rhythm of the hospital. I haven’t moved, frozen in the same position on this uncomfortable bed.
Oh, my father!
He meant well, I know that. His words, though rough around the edges, were his way of dealing with the shock of seeing me lying here connected to all these machines. But bringing up Mom and the accident at ‘the bend?’ That was a low blow. I’m amazed the heart monitor didn’t start blaring. Maybe I kept it under control because Hux was here, cushioning the blow. Or rather, easing Dad’s hard love.
A contented feeling settles in my chest. It was Hux, for sure. I’m a dreamer whose reality matches the dream exactly as imagined. I’m experiencing firsthand what it’s like to have a man who is both a solid rock to lean on and a soft pillow to rest against. It feels incredible. So damn incredible that not only is my heart rate staying steady, but I’m also drifting off to sleep.
As I close my eyes, my phone rings. I grumble, peeking at the number flickering on the screen. The moment I connect, my anger flares, hot and swift. “Stop calling me, or I swear I’ll put a bullet in your brain myself!” I spit out.
“Savannah, I saw you on the news. Are you?—”
My finger acts on instinct to end the call, but even seconds filled with Fabian Gill’s voice pries open old wounds.
We’ve known each other since we were kids. He was from a neighboring village—charming, energetic, and ambitious. After our breakup, he moved to the city, amassed a fortune, and married a financier’s daughter. Our relationship remained friendly, and we stayed connected, partly because of their daughter, Kayla. That delightful girl was one of the many children I used to babysit at Lakefall Valley.
Then, the Mitchell Ranch fell into debt. We lost track of the number of loans we applied for as droughts continued to plague us, pushing us deeper into financial distress. Among those vying for our property, Fabian appeared to be the least of all evils. In exchange for a portion of our land, he offered hard cash and ended up owning half the ranch.
But he sold us out. He never admitted betraying us, claiming he was tricked. But in the end, he survived, and the Mitchell Ranch sank.
Lakefall Valley, Montana – One year ago
The rhythmic pounding of hoofbeats echoes through the valley, harmonizing with the rustle of leaves surrounding us. Seclusion comes naturally here, not out of loneliness but out of a communion with nature that can only be described as sacred.
I hold little Kayla, ensuring her secure grip on the saddle, while my most trusted mare Misty guides us back home along the main trail of the ranch with a steadfast trot. Meanwhile, my two loyal canines forge ahead, their wet fur and the sound of their splashing paws reminding me of the rain that had fallen overnight.
The house looms in a short distance. I take Kayla off the saddle, letting her ride on my shoulder instead as I lead the horse back inside the stable.
“Did you enjoy that?” I ask her.
“Yes, passing the streams was so cool!” she claims, full of innocent eagerness. “Can I have pancakes now?”
“Of course.”
Out of nowhere, a car comes speeding in, crudely navigating the driveway to reach our location.
“That’s Mommy!” Kayla remarks.
The unexpected arrival of Juliet Gill disrupts the upbeat flow of our morning. Her quick and purposeful pace as she retrieves Kayla is laden with an emotion I can’t decipher.
“Let’s go home, honey,” Juliet says. She never minded me spending time with Kayla, so this is abrupt. But at least she doesn’t seem intoxicated.
“How about the pancakes?” Kayla yawps.
“I’ll make you some,” Juliet determines as she straps Kayla into her child seat.
“But Savannah adds M&Ms,” Kayla insists, but she is stopped by a gesture from her mother.
Juliet looks at me. “She’s not supposed to be here, and she’s not supposed to eat chocolate.”
I frown, defending myself, “Well, Fabian dropped her off.”
The woman ignores me, revving her car away.
I yell, “And it’s not chocolate, it’s M&Ms!”
In the wake of her swift departure, I go into the house. Dad is in the kitchen preparing his slow roast.
“What’s up, Saltamontes ?” Dad inquires .
“Juliet. She’s acting strange. She just snatched Kayla from me like I was kidnapping her.”
“She’s her daughter.”
“I know, but…” I stare out the window, straining to make sense of Juliet’s sudden aggression and urgency. I’ve always seen that woman as a source of negative energy, especially when she’s a few sheets to the wind. But today, her negativity feels somewhat ominous.
“You know I never like the idea of you babysitting Kayla. We should be on business-only terms with the Gills.”
“I know, Dad, but I can’t just turn Kayla away.”
“I know you love kids. Maybe it’s time you think about having your own.”
“I’m heading to the store to pick up some bread,” I say, closing the discussion.
The mention of bread from our beloved local bakery is enough to divert his thoughts from the subject I’m always happy to dodge. He smiles broadly, his mood visibly lightening. “You’re a champ! Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Need anything else?” I ask as he surveys the kitchen.
He shakes a nearly empty bottle of smoked paprika. “More of this, please.”
“Done,” I reply, already making a mental shopping list. “And if they have yellow roses, I’ll grab some for Mom.”
He sets down the paprika bottle and comes over, placing a light kiss on the crown of my head. “Yeah, do that. Tell her I’ll get them next time.”
I whistle for Ranger and Ruby, who eagerly leap into the back of my RAM truck, and we set off.
As we inch along the driveway, a troubling sight in the distance catches my eye.
A pair of men on motorbikes thunder toward us. The riders, the Blackwater Brutes from the neighboring village, herald a storm of fear and violence throughout Lakefall Valley. They’re mercenaries hired by the big players. Their arrival always carries an air of dread and ultimatums.
I bring my truck to a stop and step out, cradling my rifle. In this corner of Montana, a woman must know how to stand her ground. I command Ranger and Ruby to stay behind, their barking fierce and incessant, their bodies tense with the urge to protect.
The men slow their shiny Harleys to a stop, dismounting with a casual arrogance. The Brutes are known for being the masters of the night. Their daylight appearance is as unusual as it is unsettling. Either they’ve grown cocky and believe themselves beyond the reach of the law, or they’re here on business that couldn’t wait.
The men stroll to meet me halfway.
“Careful with that rifle, barn girl. It’s not a toy,” the bigger man sneers, his authority evident in his stance. His companion stands by, leering at me with dirty eyes.
“You’re trespassing,” I warn, pointing my rifle at the bigger guy.
They both cackle.
I tighten my grip, a smirk pulling at the corner of my mouth. “Trust me, I’m not playing. I’ve been shooting since I was twelve. Now, get off my property before I demonstrate.”
“This isn’t your property anymore,” he asserts, passing me a piece of paper—a foreclosure notice.
Their menacing words and the threatening notice only ignite a fierce determination within me. They cannot lay claim to this land!
I tear the paper apart without even bothering to read the fine print. “I’m not dealing with thugs. I’ll talk to Fabian.”
“You’re not dealing with the Gills anymore. You’re dealing with my boss,” the big man says, then spits on the grass .
They start walking back to their rides.
I point my rifle once again, cocking it this time. “Who is he? I want to talk to him.”
Suddenly, the second man grabs his rifle, pointing at someone emerging from the house.
Dad!
In an instant, the ranch transforms from a haven to a battleground.
“Dad, move away from there!” I shout as I take down the man aiming at my father. Unfortunately, he manages to fire his shot before he drops dead. The trajectory of the bullet shifted when he attempted to dodge me at the last minute, but it still strikes my dad’s leg.
Just as I prepare for my next move, the larger man fires. A searing pain pierces through my torso, and I find myself sprawled on the earth I love.
Yet surrender is not an option. I aim at the man who’s now poised to harm my father once more. Within a second, I deliver a shot, striking the thug.
“Savannah!” Dad yells. Despite his mangled leg, he somehow musters the strength to reach me.
I drag myself up, and a trail of blood paints the grass. “Dad!”
“This land doesn’t deserve your blood, Saltamontes ,” he cries, his voice filled with desperation as he pulls me into his arms.
“Don’t you dare give this place away!” I warn him, quivering with anger.
“And those men don’t deserve your blood. Your mom wouldn’t forgive me if I lost you.”
If she were here, she wouldn’t forgive us for surrendering the struggle. This land holds all of our stories and my every heartbeat. If this is my final moment, so be it .
More motorcycles converge around us, their engines a growling chorus of impending doom. I inhale sharply, my eyes fixed on the rifle just beyond my grasp, lying innocuously on a patch of ground now seemingly miles away.
“Let it go, Savannah,” Dad pleads, his voice cracking with desperation. Yet his words only fuel my resolve, pushing me to act.
I drag myself forward, every inch a battle against my own failing body. Pain laces through my side, sharp and unrelenting, but my mind is ablaze with determination. I can’t—I won’t—let it end like this.
But as I strain, my strength dwindles, and my vision begins to blur with encroaching darkness. As my consciousness dims, I make a vow to myself. If I survive today, I will find the mastermind behind this nightmare. I will confront them and drag out their depraved souls, leaving them nowhere to hide. And if my conscience can bear the weight, I might deliver a violent end to them.
I open my eyes, turning to my phone on the bedside table. It’s quiet. Fabian might finally get it when I said I would put a bullet in his brain.
Still alone in my hospital room, the aftermath of the forceful takeover lingers in my mind.
After the shoot-out at the ranch, I found out Fabian’s company was on the brink of ruin, and the clandestine deal to surrender our ranch was his lifeline. And so, with the savage efficiency of a bank’s foreclosure notice, the life we knew was disassembled. My dad and I never got back on our feet again. But that didn’t mean I turned a blind eye to the injustice.
Realizing Fabian was just a pawn in the elaborate game, I embarked on a quest for the truth, self-sleuthing, trespassing, and even strong-arming the heavyweights to spill their secrets. During that time, I faced repeated arrests, enduring beatings that left me bruised and battered. On one occasion, I was dumped in the middle of nowhere, as if they believed I’d lose my way and fade into oblivion.
My father begged me to leave the ashes behind, and reluctantly, I listened.
Now, the Mitchell Ranch stands desolate. The landscape bears the unfinished legacy of a billionaire who fell from grace. The resort development has halted, leaving the land deeply scarred. Even if it desires to, it cannot undo the damage inflicted.
Adding insult to injury, the villain responsible for its downfall was murdered before I had the chance to confront him or even take matters into my own hands. The thought had been dancing in my mind. Supposedly, his demise was at the hands of a long-standing rival.
Suddenly, the heart monitor beeps, shattering the stillness of the room and cutting through the cacophony of my swirling thoughts. A nurse rushes to my side, her face a mask of concern.
“Are you all right, Miss Mitchell?” she asks while checking my vitals.
“I’m fine, really. It was just a sudden thought,” I reply as she keeps me still on the bed.
“Try to focus on happy thoughts and get some sleep if you can. Otherwise, we might have to keep you for another day,” the nurse advises me, half warning, half motivation.
A text from Hux arrives, letting me know he’s on his way. The nurse notices my smile and quietly leaves. Finally, I can relax—though my stomach rumbles in protest from the meager meals I’ve had all day .
Actually, it’s more than that. It’s my romantic frailty slipping through—falling hard and fast whenever I felt those warm, fuzzy feelings with someone. The feelings with Huxley, though, are something even my steel-spined mother would endorse. I haven’t fallen in love since what happened with Fabian. Trusting a man after what Fab did has been impossible. Yet with Huxley, it’s almost impossible not to trust him despite the very real risk that he might be a different kind of heartbreaker.