Chapter 2
Bentley
Breathing in the fresh morning air, I grin as I gaze at my family’s property. Dad said that we’re going to check on the cattle today. They’re happily grazing, and I think Mom is coming out with us. My grandmother is watching my siblings because they’re too young, which makes sense to me.
Laura is only four months old, so she’s definitely too little for something like this. While Mom will baby wear while doing chores, it’s not safe for her to do while riding a horse.
I have to admit that my mom is my hero for being able to juggle so much. She’s a complete badass, and when equipment breaks and no one else can fix it, she always manages to coax it back to life.
“Dad!” I call out, seeing him glance over at me with a smirk as he sees me. His wild blonde hair is hidden underneath his cowboy hat to keep the sun off his face. It’s well broken in, as are his jeans and t-shirt he’s wearing.
We aren’t the kind of ranchers who always seem to look perfect. I can’t help but sneer at the Runway Ranchers with their ridiculous brand new jeans and boots that don’t have a single scuff on them.
So much of the ranching world seems to be changing, and I know my dad is concerned.
He’s currently talking with one of his ranch hands, probably to discuss our ride up to go see the cattle.
We have them about an acre away from the main house, where they're happily free grazing. They’re typically pretty tame, so I don’t think Mom or I will have an issue today. Dad wants to make sure they’re all happy and healthy.
“Hey, kiddo,” Dad says, watching with a slight pinch between his eyes as I walk over to them in my jeans and boots.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
Dad doesn’t know that I can hear him when he talks to my mom late at night. There’s a worry in their voices about our surrounding neighbors.
There’s a lot of animosity and competition between my family and everyone else around us. He thinks I don’t know about the cut fence lines or that the stable fire on our property was arson.
I may be fourteen, but I’m pretty smart. I don’t want him to worry that I’m growing up too quickly, but rancher children aren’t babied in this world. My four year old twin sisters are already helping my mom with chores, because this ranch needs all the help it can get.
I also don’t believe my mom should have to do all the cooking and cleaning. She’s taught me how to make simple meals so I can take a day every week to help with dinner. I really enjoy being helpful, and she kept an eye on me as she nursed Laura.
So no, I’m not the typical fourteen year old boy. I understand how hard it is to keep this place running. Add on the ruthlessness of the other families, and it’s even more frustrating.
Just last week, Dad began insisting on driving me to school instead of taking the bus after I got into a fist fight at the stop a mile down the road. Bobby Trumaine decided to tell me that I have so many siblings because the ranch hands on my ranch take turns with my mom.
I wasn’t going to allow him to spew such bullshit about one of my most favorite humans on earth. Bobby can get trampled by a bull for all I care, but my father reminded me that my violent thoughts aren’t going to help in the long term.
I know this, I do. My mother is mild mannered, my father never uses his belt on any of us, and he doesn’t overindulge his intake of alcohol. I’m a lucky kid.
I just have a lot of pent up anger. I can’t help it.
“Nah,” Dad lies. “I do want to get moving, though. Can you get your mom?”
“Be right back,” I say excitedly, almost tripping over the porch stair as I rush.
“Careful,” Dad calls out, chuckling. “You don’t need any more bruises, Bentley.”
He’s right, I don’t. I’m in the middle of a growth spurt, which is causing an unfortunate streak of clumsiness. If I can bump into it, I probably will. Earlier this month, I hit my head on the counter so hard I saw stars.
It not only hurt, but it meant I couldn’t help with the dishes after dinner because I was so dizzy. The lump on my head made me nauseous to touch. I have to be more careful.
“Mom?” I call out, limping as I go inside. “Are you ready?”
“Evie, are you sure you’re okay to watch the kids?” Mom asks my grandmother, biting her lip.
My mother is ten years younger than my dad. I only know this is supposed to be odd because so many people gossip about it. I think love doesn’t have an age requirement, as long as everyone is an adult.
“Michelle, I raised five boys,” Grandma laughs. “Of course I can watch your angels.”
I have to hide a smile because my sisters can behave like gremlins, especially at bath time.
“Alright,” Mom says with a shrug, pulling on a ball cap. Her ponytail hangs out the back, and it reminds me of how pretty her chestnut hair is. Only Laura has her shade of hair so far, but Mom told me that it could change in the sun.
I secretly hope not. A family full of blondes would be boring.
“See you later, rug rats,” I tease the twins as they stick their tongues at me. They’re adorable, huh?
Dad has the horses all brought out by the time Mom and I leave the house. Water bottles and granola bars are tucked into saddle bags while my father teases my mother about how well she takes care of us all.
Being in a saddle is comfortable for me, and one of my favorite things. It’s a great place to think, something I find myself doing often. I wonder what my kid sisters will be like when they grow up, and where my life will take me.
I guess this isn’t something a kid typically does, yet as the Tennessee sun beats down on us, there’s not much else to do. Making a face, I adjust my own trucker hat as we ride.
“Look alive, Bentley. We’re getting closer,” Dad calls out, knowing how I tend to get lost in my head.
Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I nod to show that I heard him.
“They’re further away from where I last saw them than they should be,” Derek, the ranch hand, murmurs.
Picking up the pace, we ride closer.
“I’m going around,” Mom says, pushing her horse into a trot.
Dad glances at Derek, and he nods as he follows her. My mom doesn’t act like any omega I’ve ever met. She’s headstrong and independent. I love how my dad just goes with the flow.
“Maybe I should have pulled Eric and Zack in for this,” Dad muses as we wade into the mass of cattle.
“They seem okay,” I say. None of the cattle seem to be hurt, and they’re all acting normally.
“We’ve had more trouble with the neighbors, so I wanted to check,” Dad sighs. I don’t think he even realizes that he’s talking out loud.
As I have my horse move closer, what seems like an explosion goes off all around the cattle. I’m unsure what the hell caused it, but I vaguely think about how it’s odd for there to be fireworks on our property.
“Bentley!” Dad yells as the cattle freak out.
Heart racing, I struggle to stay on my horse as I’m squeezed and jostled by the cattle, and my horse attempts to keep its cool. My family does a really good job at unspooking the horses in our stable, but this is asking too much of them.
I’m bumped and pushed to the point where I’m almost forced off my horse. I can hear a scream, but can’t look in that direction as the cattle continue to run away. The explosions went off right when Dad and I were in the middle of the herd.
“Are you okay?” Dad asks, while I gasp in a breath.
“Yeah. What made them freak out?” I ask, looking up to watch them continue running away from us. I sound a lot more calm than I feel. My hands are shaking and I don’t think my heart will ever stop pounding from the scare. “It’s going to take forever to round them up, Dad.”
“I’ll pull in friends to help,” he grumbles. “It sounded like fireworks. I don’t know if one of the cows stepped on a mine, or if they’re hurt. I’m going to need to bring in the vet, and that’s going to be a pain.”
“Leif! Leif, hurry!” Derek yells.
“Mom?” I rasp, remembering that she was further ahead of us.
“Don’t move. Promise me!” Dad barks out. He’s an alpha, and his tone washes over me as I nod. There’s no way I’m going to disobey him when he sounds like this.
“I promise, sir,” I whisper, frozen as he pushes his horse into a gallop.
“Michelle!” Dad screams, barely coming to a stop before jumping off his horse. The cows seem to move away from where he’s at, and soon I can see the crumpled figure on the ground.
“No,” I whisper, moving without thinking as I dismount.
The cattle have calmed as quickly as they lost their minds, and I pass them as I walk mindlessly toward my parents.
“You don’t want to see this,” Derek rasps, not able to pull his gaze from my father as his body is wracked with sobs.
My mother’s body lies broken, and I can see that she couldn’t stay on her horse.
“She was thrown from her horse,” Derek says, pulling off his hat and letting it hang by his side.
It’s not simply that she was thrown, the cattle stomped on her. Her skull is cracked, and I’ll never see her eyes again since her face is so sunken in as her mouth remains open in a silent scream. My mother is unrecognizable.
My brain is having a difficult time processing that it’s even her, but her hat is nearby from where she lost it, and her once brown hair is now matted with blood.
Blood is tracked everywhere since it’s all on the hooves of the cattle as they walk. I think the ranch hands will be washing my mother’s blood off them for days, if not weeks because some of our cattle are continuing to wander off. This isn’t the legacy she would have wanted to leave…
Somewhere, I also think about how she would complain about the mess she’s leaving, and now I can’t fucking breathe…
Black spots press against my vision as I watch my parents on the ground, one alive and floundering, while the other’s soul is no longer with us. My father doesn’t seem to know how to pick her up to hold her because she’s bleeding and broken in so many places.
“This was done on purpose,” I whisper. It feels wrong to say anything louder, and tears burn in my eyes before escaping.
What will we do without her? My mom is our emotional glue. I don’t…I can’t…
Dad’s gaze is pulled away from my mother and he finally sees me, his eyes narrowing as he realizes my chest is heaving with emotion. I watch as he pulls himself together for me.
“Derek, go back to the house with Bentley and call the police,” he says, his voice strained and hoarse. You’d never know tears are staining his weathered skin, or that his fists are clenched on either side of his body to keep from getting more blood on his hands. “We have a death to call in.”
Either way, the blood seems to refuse to stay in her body. The knees of his jeans are already soaked with blood, and I can’t tear myself away now that I’ve noticed it.
“You mean a murder,” I sob out. “They wouldn’t have reacted spooked like that otherwise.”
“We…don’t know that,” Derek says thickly, turning me around. “You don’t want the last memory of your mother to be this. Remember her just before this, smiling and laughing.”
Death isn’t something that’s abnormal to me living on a ranch. I’ve seen animals killed, my parents have run predators off our property with shotguns. My grandfather also died three years ago. I know what death feels like.
This just feels worse than anything else I’ve ever experienced before.
Time moves funny as the police are called once I’m back at the house. The hours flow too quickly yet slowly too as people are told about my mother’s death, and my sisters insist on sleeping in my bed.
I need comfort, too, so I won’t refuse them. I feel so different than the confident kid I was before, and I definitely no longer think I’m smart. If I was, I’d have known what was going to happen right? I’d have told my mom that I would stay at home with her.
There are too many ‘ifs’ in my life now.
Blinking, I find myself staring out at the play yard at school. I can’t tell you how many days have passed since my mom died, but the funeral is tomorrow. I’ll have to say goodbye to my mom then.
I don’t think I’m ready, especially since it won’t feel like she’s there.
The casket has to be closed due to the damage the cattle did, and Margie and Hazel keep asking why they can’t see Mommy anymore.
I know the twins don’t know any better, but their questions sink a knife deeper into my heart with every question.
I’m not playing today, simply leaning against a pole as I gaze sightlessly at the sunbathed yard. There are kids laughing and playing, but it’s hard to let any of that happiness touch me right now.
“Hey, Bentley!” Felix yells, walking up to me with Bobby laughing behind me. I hate these guys, and I have a lot of anger and sadness bubbling up inside of me.
Today is a bad fucking day to mess with me.
“He said your name, moron,” Bobby snorted. “Are you broken?”
“I’m not broken,” I say, my voice reminding me of broken glass. I only speak when it’s necessary, and my teachers haven’t been calling on me because I just stare at them as if I have no idea what’s going on.
I can’t even hide in a book, because I can’t focus on it.
“I just don’t want to talk to people that want to start shit up with me,” I add. “Go…away. Please.”
The ‘please’ isn’t for their benefit, it's for mine. I don’t want to fight, and I’m barely holding on.
“Bobby told me—”
“Shh. I didn’t think you were going to tell him about that,” Bobby hisses at Felix. “Jesus. Just keep your mouth shut.”
“What is he keeping his mouth shut about?” I ask, discreetly cracking my fingers.
I’m almost six feet tall, and a big guy. My muscles are developed from helping out around the ranch, and Bobby knows I’m willing to beat the shit out of him. His eye is still swollen from when I last hit him. It’s just stupid to fuck with me right now.
“He told me, too,” Tray says, moving to stand next to Felix with a wince. I’ve never had an issue with Tray, but that could change. He should really pay better attention to who he hangs out with.
“Please, share with the class,” I say sarcastically. I’m typically a sunny person. I just can’t find the energy to fake it.
“He said… God, don’t punch me,” Tray groans.
“I’ll punch everyone else,” I decide. I’m not much for shooting the messenger. They don’t do anything except do their job.
“Don’t tell him,” Bobby warns.
“He’s scarier, and you need to stop running your mouth,” Tray tells him. “Bobby told us that he is the one who helped his dad bury those firecrackers. He’s responsible for killing your mom.”
The world gets very quiet before I burst into motion. It’s almost as if I black out as my fists hit flesh and blood bursts from broken noses, and I lose all sense of what I’m doing.
Right up until I’m pulled away from the fight by a red-faced principal. I don’t fucking care what he or anyone has to say. Bobby and his father deserve to die, and one day I’ll find a way to make that happen.
I won’t be fourteen forever. I will get my pound of flesh one day to avenge my mother.