Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
SOFIE
I carry another box of carefully packed hand-thrown pottery from Kirilee’s BMW to her booth. Though the icy morning wind ruffles the grass and rattles the Easy-Up tents standing guard over the rows of booths, there’s not a cloud in the sky for Autumn Fest.
“Do you really think people will buy these?” Kirilee asks with a flicker of worry in her green eyes as she unwraps another beautifully glazed mug and sets it next to one equally as precious. “Maybe I should lower the price.”
“You did your research. Twenty-five is fair.”
“Right,” she says, nodding, but it’s not convincing.
“What’s your biggest worry?”
“That my dad will show up,” she says. “Tell me to stop being ridiculous.”
I carefully open the box I carried and unpack a set of mixing bowls. “Do you think you’re being ridiculous?”
“No.” She huffs. “I love making things. I would give them away if the event staff would let me.”
Ava arrives with another of Kirilee’s boxes. “And even if they did, I wouldn’t. ”
It’s no secret Kirilee doesn’t need the money, and she feels bad about taking it from other people when she has so much.
“It’s about value,” I add while Kirilee sets two more mugs on the shelf next to her table. “You worked hard to make them. Whoever ends up with one?—”
“Or four, holy moly, these are beautiful!” Ava interrupts, holding a dinner plate so the sunlight glistens on the pale blue glaze.
“—will appreciate it more if they’ve had to part with something they value too,” I finish.
Kirilee waves me off. “Capitalism is no fun.”
“Tell that to your dad,” I say under my breath.
Kirilee laughs. “Wouldn’t that be a hoot?”
“People are going to love these.” I cradle the last mug in my box. “Just wait and see.”
Kirilee gives me a look over her shoulder. “Hey, how’d the babysitting gig go last night?”
“It was fun. Easy. I made four hundred bucks.”
Ava whistles. She sets the last plate on the stack and tucks the packing paper back in the box. “Did he say what his meeting was about?”
Finn River Ranch employees are heavily discouraged from gossiping about our high society guests and are strictly forbidden to share information with anyone in the press, but Ava and Kirilee are familiar with the goings on inside the ranch, and Teague Lennox’s secret will be out soon enough. “He didn’t say who the film is for, but he loved the script so much he stayed awake all night reading it.”
“So he got the part?” Ava asks.
“I guess?” Even though my brother lives and breathes this business, I am clueless about the production side of it. “He’s going to be shooting in Iceland and the UK starting in January.”
Ava’s eyes widen. “He invited you, didn’t he? He’s going to need help with Arlo.”
I point at her. “That’s freaky. How did you know?”
“Why wouldn’t he want you? You’re perfect.”
I scoff. “I am not.”
Kirilee’s eyes fix on mine. “Are you going to take it?”
“No,” I say. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” both of my friends reply in unison, with equally curious expressions.
“Because…” Even though the stiff breeze would make it difficult for anyone to overhear, I keep my tone low as I add “…what about Jesse?”
“He’s going to L.A.,” Ava says, frowning.
Voicing my fears feels disloyal, but I also don’t need to remind them how Jesse spiraled. My friends were there.
“Linnie, too,” I fire back.
Kirilee tucks a stray curl behind her ear. “Could she come with you?”
“I couldn’t do that to my dad.”
“It’s not forever, right?” Ava asks.
“No, but—” They’re not serious, are they? “I’d miss you guys.”
Ava laughs. “We’d miss you like crazy, but hey, we’ll be together again. What did Mr. Lennox offer you? I’ll bet it’s enough to pay for college. Maybe grad school too, or at least part of it.”
Saying the number out loud makes me feel queasy. “A hundred K. Plus a car I get to keep.”
Ava’s mouth drops open. “Fucking blazes, Fie. That’s a lot of donuts.”
I cringe. “I know. But what if I take it, and something happens with Jesse? Or Linnie?”
“You can’t hold their lives in the palm of your hand forever,” Ava says in a kind voice. “Linnie’s old enough to fend for herself for a year. Your dad can make some adjustments, I’m sure.”
Theoretically, Dad sets his own schedule, but in reality, it’s not quite that simple. Like this poacher. Like The Winter Range Project. Like a lot of unknowns.
“You have a right to a future, too,” Kirilee says, her eyes tight with compassion. For someone who has so little choice in her life, this means a lot. I reach out for her hand.
“Maybe there’s another reason you feel like sticking around?” Ava says, giving me a knowing smirk.
A firm gust rattles the tent fabric and makes the edges of Kirilee’s tablecloth flutter above the grass.
Kirilee’s eyes brighten. “A certain International Man of Mystery, perhaps?”
I smile to myself, remembering Zach’s message last night.
“Your nanny gig wouldn’t start until January,” Ava says, whipping her long hair into a braid. “That’s a month and a half away.”
I sink into the chair behind Kirilee’s table. “He’s coming to the work party.”
“Perfect,” Ava says, then frowns. “Wait, how do you know?”
“He texted me last night.”
“Mystery Man has a phone?” Kirilee adds, her eyebrows arching up in surprise.
“Apparently.”
“What else did he want?” Ava asks, all innocence gone from her tone.
I can’t say it out loud, but my look must reveal enough because Kirilee’s biting her lip, and Ava’s narrowed her gaze like she’s reading my thoughts.
“I see,” Ava says, failing to hide her smirk.
“That’s hot.” Kirilee points at me. “At least one of us is getting some action.”
“Who’s getting some action?” Hutch says from behind us. “I’m here to help.”
I jump out of my seat, and my friends whirl around.
“You wish,” Ava says, rolling her eyes.
Hutch gives her a wink as he ducks under the tent and then scans the shelves. “Wow, Keer, you made all of these?”
“Yep.” Kirilee beams.
Gently, he picks up one of the bowls and turns it over in his big hands. “How’d you get the glaze that color? It’s so pretty.”
“Thanks, Hutch,” Kirilee says.
I bump her shoulder for encouragement, and she laughs to herself. See? I want to say to her. Taking a compliment won’t kill you.
Hutch sets the bowl back and Ava links arms with him. “Let’s get the artist some lunch.”
“Definitely.”
I give Kirilee a quick goodbye hug and hurry to catch up with Ava and Hutch. At the food truck pavilion, we meet up with more of our friends.
We’re discussing our options when I spot Gabe standing with two of his hunting guide buddies at the Sunset Spur Taco Truck.
“Come with me for a sec,” I say in Ava’s ear.
She gives me a look. “What about Kirilee?”
“We’ll be right back,” I say.
She rocks up on her toes to say something to Hutch, who nods before turning back to our friends.
I grab Ava’s hand and lead her to the exit.
It’s still early, but locals and tourists alike are heading into the festival from the lot across the street. We wait our turn to cross, and once we’re in the gravel parking lot, I walk to the nearest big truck and climb onto the tailgate.
“What in the world are we doing?”
The cool wind makes my eyes water, but from this vantage, I can speed up our search.
“Got it.” Gabe’s black truck is parked three rows away, on the far-left side.
“Got what?”
I jump down. A group of older festivalgoers in their starchy-looking denim and wide-brimmed cowboy hats cast me a look of concern, but I grab Ava’s hand and pull her away. “Come on.”
When we’re alone, I say, “If Gabe’s here, so is his truck.”
“And we care because?”
“Zach thinks he may have broken something on the front left when he fought back. Maybe it was a headlight.”
Ava’s eyes light up. “Ohhhh.”
We round the second row. Gabe’s truck is parked facing away from us.
I look behind, then to the right, down the row, but this section of the lot is full, so there’s no traffic. I slip between the left side of Gabe’s truck and a minivan. The shelter from the wind makes the space feel warm, the dust swirling around our ankles.
The canopy over Gabe’s truck bed has tinted windows, hiding his cargo. When we dated, we spent enough time in this very truck bed that I would remember seeing a baseball bat. More unwanted memories twist through my thoughts, making me feel exposed even though those times are long over. I don’t like thinking of how things were between us back then. How I felt about myself. Like I was damaged goods. Like I didn’t deserve better.
The cab looks tidy the way it always does during hunting season because he’s often carting around clients.
No baseball bat.
When we get to the front of the truck, I’m careful not to touch anything. My small fingerprints would stand out on the dust-coated black paint. I squat down so I’m eye level with the left headlight assembly. Though I don’t know much about cars, nothing looks broken.
“You sure it was the left?” Ava asks, her hands on her hips. She walks to the right side, her sandals crunching on the gravel, and squints closely at the headlight.
“That’s what Zach said.” I peer at the left one from different angles, pivoting on the balls of my feet. There’s a thin light bar bordering the top and side of the headlight and turn signal assembly, which is covered by a thick layer of plastic. The cover has a few minor scratches, but Gabe regularly takes his clients off-road, so that’s not a surprise. Inside, neither of the individual lights look broken or cracked, and there’s no glass or pieces resting inside the bottom of the cavity.
“It happened a few days ago, so he could have fixed it?” Ava returns to my corner.
“Possible.” I stand up and sigh.
“Who else would want to hurt Zach?”
“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “What if it was just a warning?”
Ava rests a gentle hand on my shoulder, her eyes filling with kindness. “You’re a goner for this boy, aren’t you?”
I release a hard sigh, letting my shoulders drop with it. “I think I am.”
Back at the food truck pavilion, Jesse and Neve have joined our group, but they choose a Hawaiian poke bowl over the barbecue truck. I offer to get Kirilee’s lunch so the others don’t have to rush through ordering.
“Make sure to get something for yourself,” Ava says with Hutch’s arm slung casually over her shoulder.
When I get to Kirilee’s booth, I’m dismayed that Eric Hennessy, a thirty-year-old real estate bigshot Kirilee’s dad is pushing her to date, is here. Though Kirilee can’t stand him, she’s been brought up to be polite—to the point of excruciating. I’ve tried to understand her parents, and I get they’d be freakishly protective after what happened to her as a baby, but hasn’t she proven to them by now she’s capable of making her own decisions?
“Eric, hey, do me a solid and get Kirilee some napkins,” I say, catching him off guard. I lift the bag containing her lunch for good measure.
He gives me an accusatory once-over. “Of course.” He strides off.
“Thank you,” Kirilee says, her hand over her heart in relief.
“You need me to stay?”
“No, he only has a few minutes.”
A pair of women enter the tent, their eyes lighting up at the brightly colored mugs and bowls lining the shelves.
“You sure?”
Kirilee gives me a wink before stepping over to the women.
I leave the bag of goods on her chair and text Ava.
Eric alert
On it
I think about calling Zach so I can tell him about Gabe’s truck. Or I could just wait until tomorrow’s work party. But I don’t want to wait. And what if he doesn’t show?
He dug up my number somehow. Why not look up the Hutton’s address and deliver my news in person?
I’m so preoccupied with my plan that I don’t notice Gabe until he’s in step with me. “Where are you headed?”
I shoot him a look. “Why?”
“Come on, don’t be like that.” He slides his hand into mine.
I jerk it free. “Stop.”
We round the corner of the lot, the gravel loud under our shoes .
“Look, I’m sorry about the Burnout show. I thought…” He huffs a sigh. “I got carried away.”
My car is at the end of the row, but I whirl on him. “You had one job, and you failed.”
His dark eyes tense. “How many times do I have to apologize? Jess went to take a leak. What, you want me to hold his fucking hand?”
“Did you doctor his tox screen?”
Time seems to slow as I wait for him to answer. I shouldn’t have given him this leverage, but not knowing if I’m in his debt is eating me alive.
“I gave mine instead. Do you know how much that Jeep was worth?”
I close my eyes so I don’t explode. Like I care about the stupid Jeep.
While I understand the risk Gabe took by pissing in a cup for Jesse, it doesn’t have the effect on me it once did. Maybe I’m tired of protecting my brother when he seems unwilling to do the work himself. And I’m certainly done with how it ties me to Gabe.
Gabe hooks a finger through my belt loop and gives me a little tug. “I miss you.”
I step back, and his hand drops into the void. “No more favors. No more anything.”
His face darkens, and for an instant, I see the hurt. But then it’s gone and buried beneath his anger. He spins on his heel and storms off.
The Huttons live on Morning Star Road, south of town where people with roots in ranching and farming settled. I don’t know Barb and Henry very well. Back when I was in high school, I used to see them at football games. They continued to attend even after their kids were gone. Dad knows them, though. Barb found us Cocoa. I haven’t met them officially, and I’ve never been to their place.
The Wagoneer’s saggy suspension bounces over the bumps and dips as I count the house numbers on Morning Star. My mind drifts to the conversation with Gabe. The finality of separating from him settles through me. While I’m relieved, I’m still angry. I didn’t ask Gabe to meddle with Jesse’s tox screen. Now I’ll never know the truth .
The Hutton’s property is lined with split rail fencing. The driveway passes beneath a high archway made of a single giant log. I turn up the wide gravel lane that bisects a tidy but faded lawn and ends in a turnaround driveway between a handsome farmhouse and a two-story barn. The barn’s red metal roof contrasts with the dark woods and the dry yellow pasture behind it. Rising above the tips of the distant forest is a view of the Bitterroots, their tops dusted with snow.
When I pull to a stop behind a silver Ford truck, two brown dogs trot over from the covered porch, tails wagging.
The dogs circle my shins, sniffing. I give them each a welcome, then head for the house, where a woman with short brown hair steps out in a thick jacket and worn brown boots.
“Hello,” she says with a curious glint in her eye. “What can I do for you?”
A gust of cool wind buffets the aspens flanking the left side of the house, making the leaves rattle. “You’re Barb, right?” I walk closer and extend my hand. “I’m Sofie Whittaker.”
Barb’s eyes soften as she gives my hand a quick, firm shake. “Glad to meet you, Sofie. How’s that Appaloosa we found for your dad?”
“Cocoa? She’s great.”
Henry joins his wife on the porch, his cheeks a rosy red, like he’s been outside.
I suck in a gasp as a memory fires. He’s the one who carried me from the lake so Zach could return for Jesse. The sudden tug of emotion catches me off guard.
“Sofie, hey,” Henry says with a kind smile.
“Hey.” When he came to the house after Zach was attacked, I was pouring my frustration into barn chores, so I didn’t put it together. But it all falls into place now. Zach and Henry were both there, and Zach’s been with the Huttons since.
I swallow down the lump in my throat. “Um, is Zach here? I… need to tell him something.” This might be the lamest thing I’ve ever said, but the Huttons don’t seem affected by it.
“Sure. He’s in the barn,” Henry says, “We were just heading back out there.”
“I think he’s with Galaxy,” Barb adds as we set off across the gravel driveway, the wind kicking up dust. Ahead, the opening of the large barn yawns like an abyss.
Henry leads, his gait surprisingly energetic for a man who must be pushing seventy. Is Zach’s presence the cause? The thought is incredibly endearing. I want to thank them for how they’ve obviously been caring for him, even though I have no right to.
Barb and I follow Henry into the barn. Scents of fresh hay and horse dust mixed with leather and wood are welcoming and familiar the way every barn is to me. We pass a big stallion’s stall and a smaller mare’s. At the end of the row is an empty stall, the back door opened to reveal an enclosed corral. Through the cutout of the doorway, Zach is sitting on the fence rail while a black foal whose ribs are showing snuffles around the edges.
“Oh, he’s outside,” Henry says, and strides out the back of the barn and thankfully not through the stall because I’m dressed for Autumn Fest, not barn chores.
Before I follow, Zach looks up. Though he doesn’t move from his perch on the railing, I can see the rise and fall of his chest and the set of his jaw. But it’s those eyes that do me in. Framed as he is with the bluebird sky behind him and the rugged mountains rising rocky and sharp, he looks like he’s a part of the landscape. Like he belongs.
As we stare at each other for that tender, fleeting moment, it becomes clear that he’s not only become a part of this place, but he’s become a part of me .