Chapter 17
Cash
Mike was gone by mid-morning, heading for the church to help get things ready for Sunday service the next day. And, since it was Saturday, none of the realtors were answering any of my texts. So, by the time noon rolled around, I was so fucking bored I could barely stand it.
And the only thing to do in Sagebrush was go get lunch.
Slipping on my boots and my cowboy hat, I headed out onto the street, leaving my truck parked at the parsonage.
The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day.
I figured I might as well walk and enjoy it a little bit.
The town, to my surprise, was recovering quickly from the tornado.
Sure, there were tarps on roofs, sawdust in the streets, and damage here and there.
But for the most part, the place was looking nearly back to its old self.
The downed trees were gone, the power lines fixed, and as I rounded the corner I noticed that even Dolly was already in the process of getting her ancient neon sign replaced.
This one, it seemed, wasn’t neon, but LEDs behind plexiglass made to mimic neon.
From the street I could barely tell the difference.
I pushed open the door to Dolly’s Diner, and the familiar jingle of the bell announced my arrival.
The place was busy for lunchtime, most of the tables filled with locals tucking into their meals.
A few heads turned my way, and I caught the flash of recognition in their eyes before they quickly looked away.
Dolly herself stood behind the counter, her blonde hair curled and lifted as high as it would go. When she spotted me, she broke into a wide smile.
“Cash!” she called out, waving a coffee pot in greeting. “Well, ain’t this a pleasant surprise! Take a seat wherever you like, sugar.”
I nodded, scanning the diner for an empty booth. Most were taken, but I spotted one near the back and headed for it, trying to ignore the whispers that followed me. By now they probably knew the Callahan boy was back in town and looking to sell his daddy’s ranch.
“Be right with you, hon,” Dolly called as I slid into the booth.
I picked up a laminated menu, though I already knew what I wanted.
“Here you go, darlin’,” Dolly said, appearing at my table with a glass of ice water and a steaming mug of coffee. She set them down with a practiced flourish. “You know what you want, or do you need a minute?”
“The special,” I said, handing her back the menu. “Thanks, Dolly.”
She winked at me. “Comin’ right up.”
She’d barely disappeared back behind the counter when the bell above the door jingled again. I didn’t look up from my coffee right away, just wrapped both hands around the mug and stared into it like it had answers.
It was the sound of Dolly’s voice that made me glance up.
“Brooks Callahan! And Rowan! Well, come on in, you two. Perfect timing.”
I felt the muscles in my jaw tighten before I even laid eyes on them.
Brooks. Of course it was Brooks. That guy seemed to be everywhere I went, always checking in on me and trying to make friends.
But I didn’t want family or a friend or his apologies.
I just wanted to live my life without him butting in all the time.
And Rowan… ugh. Don’t even get me started.
To my horror, Dolly was already steering them toward my corner of the diner like a tugboat guiding a pair of reluctant ships into port.
“You boys sit right down here with Cash,” she said, gesturing broadly at my booth with the coffee pot. “No sense in takin’ up two tables when there’s perfectly good company to be had.”
Brooks’s eyes found mine. Something passed between us that wasn’t quite hostility and wasn’t quite warmth. More like two men sizing up weather on the horizon.
“Dolly,” I started.
“Don’t you ‘Dolly’ me,” she said pleasantly, already filling a second mug without being asked. “Sit down, Brooks. Rowan, scoot in. Y’all are family.”
Brooks looked at me for a beat longer than was comfortable, then pulled off his hat and slid into the booth across from me. Rowan dropped in beside him with the uncomplicated ease of someone who didn’t sense tension so much as float above it entirely.
“Cash,” Brooks said. Just my name. Nothing attached to it. Clearly he’d given up on trying to win me over.
“Brooks,” I replied in kind.
That about covered the pleasantries.
Dolly set down menus they clearly didn’t need and bustled off, leaving the three of us in a silence that felt like the pause before a poker hand gets flipped over.
Rowan, bless his heart, didn’t seem to notice.
He was already scanning the laminated menu like it might have changed since the last time he’d been in.
“She always do that?” I asked, mostly to have something to say.
“She’s done it a few times to me,” Rowan smiled, no longer looking at his menu. “But that’s usually because someone has a sick pet that they want me to look at down at the vet clinic.”
Brooks let out a sound that might have been a laugh if it had tried a little harder. “That sounds about right. She had me sittin’ down with Earl Patterson last spring when his cattle dog had a limp. Spent forty-five minutes hearin’ about Earl’s opinions on the county commissioner.”
“Was the dog okay?” I asked, before I could stop myself from caring.
“Thorn? Yeah, just a burr between his toes,” Rowan said. “Earl cried anyway. You would’ve thought we were putting that dog down the way he carried on.”
Despite myself, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch. I pressed it back down and took a sip of coffee. Rowan wasn’t supposed to make me smile.
The silence that settled between us after that wasn’t quite as sharp as the one before.
Still uncomfortable, but less like a knife and more like a pair of boots you hadn’t broken in yet.
Brooks turned his coffee mug in slow circles on the table, not drinking it, just moving it around.
I’d seen my father do the same thing when he had something on his mind he wasn’t saying. It used to drive me crazy.
Rowan set his menu down and leaned back against the booth. He had the easy confidence of someone who’d made peace with being the odd one out in any given room. Probably helped when you were the only vet in a town full of ranchers and farmers who needed you more than they liked you.
“How’s the property sale comin’ along?” Brooks asked finally.
“It isn’t,” I said.
He nodded slowly, like that was the answer he’d expected. “Heard the buyer fell through.”
I looked up at him sharply. “News travels awfully fast.”
“It’s Sagebrush,” he said, with a slight lift of one shoulder. “Don’t take it personal.”
“Hard not to when it’s my business.”
Brooks met my eyes and held them. “I’m sorry for havin’ ears.”
Rowan glanced between us with the mild curiosity of a man watching two dogs decide whether or not to fight. He seemed entirely unbothered by the possibility of either outcome.
Dolly arrived with my lunch and took the other two orders with the efficiency of someone who’d been feeding stubborn men for forty years. She topped off all three coffees without asking, gave Brooks a pointed look that I didn’t fully understand, and swept back toward the counter.
I pulled my plate toward me and picked up my fork. The meatloaf smelled incredible, which was deeply inconvenient given that I’d been planning to eat fast and leave.
“You thought about talkin’ to the bank?” Brooks said, not accusatory, just putting it out there.
“About what?”
“About refinancin’. Buyin’ some time while you figure out what you’re doin’ with the place.” He wrapped both hands around his mug and finally took a drink. “I know a guy over in Amarillo. He’s decent. Won’t jerk you around.”
I stabbed a piece of meatloaf. “I know what I’m doin’ with the place. I’m sellin’ it.”
“Mmhm,” Brooks said, in a tone that conveyed nothing and somehow everything.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothin’.” He looked out the window at the street, at the crew replacing the sign across the way. “Just that you’ve been here two or three weeks now and you’re still here.”
“Not because I want to be,” I replied.
Brooks nodded again, slow and measured. He had the maddening patience of a man who’d spent most of his life working alone and had learned that silence didn’t need to be filled. I’d forgotten that about him, or maybe I’d never known it. I hadn’t exactly given him much of a chance recently.
Rowan’s phone buzzed on the table. He glanced down at it, and something shifted in his expression. He went from relaxed to alert in about half a second.
“Sorry,” he said, already sliding out of the booth. “Give me just a second.”
He stepped away from the table, pressing the phone to his ear and moving toward the door. Brooks watched him go, then looked back at me.
“I wish you’d give him a chance,” Brooks said quietly. “He’s a good man. I’m lucky to have him.”
“I’m sure,” I said.
“You ought to give someone a chance around here,” he added. Not unkind, just honest. “Not everybody’s tryin’ to screw you over.”
I looked at him across the table. “You sound like someone else I know.”
“Smart person, sounds like.”
I snorted and went back to my meatloaf. Rowan reappeared at the edge of the table a minute later, sliding his phone into his shirt pocket. There was a new energy about him, focused and purposeful.
“I’ve got a heifer out on the Macready place,” he said, pulling his wallet out and tossing some bills on the table. “She’s been trying to calve for a few hours and nothing’s happening. I need to get out there.” He looked at me for a beat, then said something I wasn’t expecting. “You want to come?”
I blinked. “Me?”
“You’re a rancher,” he said simply. “Or you grew up on a ranch, anyway. I thought you might be interested. Beats sitting here and staring at Brooks for a half hour.” He glanced at Brooks, a big stupid grin on his face. “You’re welcome too, if you like.”
Brooks gave a small nod. “I’d like to eat my lunch. But thanks.”
Rowan was already reaching for his jacket on the hook at the end of the booth. He looked back at me, waiting, not pushing. Just leaving the door open.
I looked down at my plate. Half a piece of meatloaf and some mashed potatoes.
I thought about Mike, how he’d told me that we’re allowed to just enjoy ourselves while we’re here.
I was leaving Sagebrush, nothing would change that.
Especially not Rowan. Besides, it might be entertaining to watch him struggle for an hour or two with a heifer.
Maybe I’d even get a few laughs out of it.
“Comin’,” I said, stabbing the rest of the meatloaf and shoving it into my mouth. I glanced at Brooks as I got up, loving the surprised look on his face. “Don’t worry,” I grinned, chewing quickly. “I won’t fuck your boyfriend.”
Brooks didn’t look away. Instead, he just replied, “You couldn’t handle him. Believe me.” Then he picked up his coffee again and leaned back in the booth. “Good luck. Calving is a fuckin’ mess.”
I didn’t bother with a response as I shoved my hat on and followed Rowan out the door.