7. Juliette #3
Linda stands up, her eyes sparking with a fierce, quiet intelligence. "In the back room. I’ll show you how to use it. And Juliette?"
"Yeah?"
"Give 'em hell."
I smile, and for the first time in my life, it’s not a polite, socialite smile. It’s a Kramer smile. Sharp, territorial, and ready for a fight.
"Count on it."
We head to the back room, and the hum of the scanner becomes the background noise to my revolution. I scan the Black Aspen documents, the maps of the water rights, and the letter with my father’s signature. I send them to an encrypted cloud drive I set up years ago as a 'just in case' measure.
As the files upload, I think about Cag. I think about his rough hands and his quiet strength. I think about the way he looks at me like I’m the only thing that matters.
My father has relatives, money, and lawyers. What he doesn’t have is a family that stands together because they choose one another. He doesn't have a legacy that’s worth more than a dollar sign. He has assets. We have a home.
And no man alive takes a Kramer’s home and walks away whole.
The afternoon stretches on, the heat outside intensifying as the sun begins its slow descent toward the western peaks.
I finish my work and walk out onto the porch, looking toward the horizon.
In the distance, I can see the dust clouds from the trucks at the upstream gate.
I can imagine the standoff—Andy with his arms crossed, Benjamin looking like he’s ready to wrestle a bull with his bare hands, and Cag...
Cag standing at the center of it all, a silent, deadly force.
I’m done sitting in torn lace while other people decide the shape of my life. I know where my father hides the pressure points, and I’m ready to use them.
I hear the sound of an engine approaching. It’s Cag’s truck. It’s moving fast, kicking up a trail of grit that hangs in the stagnant air. My heart hammers against my ribs, not with fear, but with anticipation.
The truck skids to a halt in front of the house.
There’s three hundred feet of Frank’s tubing strapped to the bed, and it isn’t enough.
The seep on the western ridge gave us a trickle and a wet patch of moss.
Cag jumps out before the engine even dies.
He looks furious. He looks like he wants to break something.
But when his eyes find me on the porch, he stops.
The rage doesn't disappear, but it focuses. It becomes a shield.
He strides up the stairs, his boots thudding like a heartbeat. He doesn't say a word. He just grabs me, pulling me into his arms so hard I lose my breath. He smells like diesel, dust, and old-fashioned masculine defiance.
"They tried to serve a formal injunction," he grunts into my hair. "They’re claiming the water rights are 'non-transferable' due to a clerical error from thirty years ago. It’s a lie, Juliette. A legal stall tactic to keep the gates closed. They put the surveyor’s statement in the filing too. Me putting hands on him. Andy’s lawyer says it buys them delay and nothing else, but it’s in there. "
"I know," I say, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. They’re bloodshot, rimmed with exhaustion and the weight of the world.
"I have the names of people who can confirm where his money entered Black Aspen. That won’t lift the order, but it may prove their filing wasn't made in good faith. We still need the document establishing Pine Ridge’s superior right. "
Cag blinks, the information sinking in. He looks at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. Not as a runaway to be protected, but as a queen who just called in her cavalry.
"You’ve been busy," he says, a ghost of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"I told you, Cag. I’m not glass." I reach up and straighten the collar of his dusty shirt. "Now, let’s go inside. We have some phone calls to make, and I think it’s time my father learned that his 'asset' just became his biggest liability."
Cag looks at me, his gaze dropping to my mouth before returning to my eyes. The possessiveness is still there, but it’s different now. It’s proud. It’s the look of a man who knows he’s found his match.
"Princess," he says, pride roughening the word. "My smart, beautiful, terrifying princess."
"Yours," I agree, pulling him toward the door. "Always."
We walk into the house together, ready to meet the next move from the same side of the table. The wells might be dry, and the sun might be scorching the earth, but here, inside the walls of Pine Ridge, the fire is just getting started.
And this time, we’re the ones holding the matches.
The external threat is still out there, lurking in the shadows of the western quarter, but as I sit back down at that heavy oak desk with Cag by my side, I know one thing for certain.
Conrad Marchand has no idea what’s coming for him. He thinks he’s fighting only a ranch family. He doesn’t realize his daughter has finally chosen a side.
I came to Pine Ridge as a runaway. Now I’m standing with the Kramers, and together we’re going to prove Black Aspen never had the right to take their water.