Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Maddox
“Yeah, Sheriff, it’s Tyler Henderson.” His voice catches just then, and the words that come next sound much more strangled. “I need to report a death at Meadows Ranch.”
As I close my eyes and sink to the ground in front of the barn, the image of my grandfather lying dead in a pasture, his neck broken and his eyes wide open, will forever stay in my mind.
There was nothing I could do. No life-saving measures I could take to bring him back.
It was instant, and while that should provide some sort of relief, it doesn’t.
All I feel is guilt.
Guilt and fucking anger.
My eyes spring open, and my gaze cuts to Tyler.
His phone is still connected to his ear, and his young son clings to his leg as he cries.
If it weren’t for the poor kid, we might not have known Granddaddy had even left the house, but Dash wanted to say goodnight to the horses.
They weren’t in the stables for more than two minutes before they discovered my grandfather’s horse was missing.
Tyler ends the call and swipes a thumb under his eye before he pockets the phone, and glances down at his son. “Miss Judy will be here soon. When she comes, you go stay in the big house with her, and I’ll come get you when I’m done, okay?”
Dash’s lower lip quivers as he looks up at his dad, but he doesn’t say anything.
With no childcare available to him, Tyler had no choice but to take Dash with him when he went in search of Granddaddy.
The kid is no stranger to death. He’s spent most of his young life on this ranch, and he’s seen nature run its course with some animals, but what he saw tonight will haunt his childhood.
“I should’ve fucking been here.”
Tyler meets my gaze. “Don’t do that,” he says. “You could’ve gone to bed, and William still would’ve found a way to ride that horse.”
That’s bullshit, and he knows it. I don’t go to bed without setting the alarm on the house.
He would’ve never made it past the front porch.
But pointing that out won’t change shit.
I pull myself to my feet and brush my hands down my thighs.
I can’t bring my grandfather back, but I can sure as fuck raise some hell.
My gaze swings past Tyler, landing on the main house. When I first arrived back at the ranch, there wasn’t time to ask questions. Now, I’ve got all this anger inside of me, and there is only one person I want to unleash it on.
“Where the hell is the aide?”
“Nope, we’re not doing that either, brother,” Tyler replies.
He lifts Dash into his arms and steps toward me.
“That girl is a mess. After I learned the horse was missing, I went to the house. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.
She had no idea William was gone. She had just put him to bed and was cleaning your dishes from dinner.
” He sighs, pulling his hat from his head. “He pulled a fast one on her, Maddox.”
“He died on her watch,” I growl. “There should be repercussions for that.”
“And you think there won’t be? The girl won’t be able to work after this.
She’s done.” He blows out a breath and drags his fingers through his hair.
“Look, this is a shock, and I know you’re hurting.
You want someone to blame—someone to hurt.
I get it, man. But going off on that girl, tearing her down when she’s already at rock bottom, won’t make you feel better.
You’re not that guy, and that’s because William raised you better. ”
I suck in a breath, my eyes filling with tears. I won’t let them fall, though. For as much wisdom Granddaddy instilled in me, it doesn’t erase the scars my old man burned into me.
I can still hear him yelling at me the day my mother died. His voice so fucking clear.
Buck up, kid. Real men don’t fucking cry.
“I don’t know how to do this, man,” I rasp, my nostrils flaring as I drag in a ragged breath. “I don’t know where to even begin.”
“You should probably call your sister and let her know. I’ll wait for the Sheriff.”
Leaving Tyler to handle Granddaddy’s body doesn’t feel right, and I’m not ready to inform my sister of his death. I already know how that call will play out, and I don’t trust myself to hold it together.
The sound of gravel crunching under tires pulls my attention toward the entrance of the ranch, and I’m temporarily blinded by the high-beam headlights of Wyatt’s work truck.
“Fuck,” I grunt. “He shouldn’t be driving.”
But in my haste to get back here, I fled the bar without a word.
“He’s not,” Tyler says. “I called the bar and asked Amelia to drive them back here. Shadow shouldn’t be too far behind her with the rest of the guys.”
Before I can even process his words, the truck comes to a stop right behind mine at the top of the driveway, and Wyatt stumbles out from the passenger seat. He trips over his own feet as he rushes toward us. The jovial version of him I saw only an hour ago is nowhere in sight.
“Fuck, man, tell me it isn’t true,” he croaks, sounding more sober than he looks. When neither I nor Tyler say anything, he pulls his hat from his head and rocks back on his heels. “What can I do?”
The back doors of his truck slam shut, and Beau, Grant, and Rhett saunter over, offering their condolences and firing off one question after another. I don’t have the headspace for any of it, and Tyler must sense as much because he pulls them aside and orders them to go to the bunkhouse.
That’s when I turn and find Amelia walking straight toward me. She twirls Wyatt’s keyring around her finger and comes to a stop, keeping a good five feet between us. Lifting her chin, her gaze meets mine, and for the first time in a long time, they don’t look so vacant.
“I’m so sorry, Maddox,” she whispers.
I shove my hands into my pockets to stop myself from reaching for her. In another world, another life, she’d be my escape. The balm for the pain ripping through me.
“Thank you,” I say hoarsely. “And thanks for taking the guys home. I’m sorry I ran out of there without saying goodbye. I should’ve—”
She steps forward and silences me with a finger on my lips.
“Don’t.” Her eyes dart around my face before settling on my lips and the finger she has pressed against them.
She blinks rapidly, a stunned expression filling her features, like she can’t quite believe she’s touching me, then she snatches her hand away and takes a step back.
Clearing her throat, she meets my gaze once again.
“Shadow should be here any moment with the rest of the guys. Their trucks are safe in the lot for the night.”
My throat feels too tight, so all I do is nod.
A few moments later, Shadow pulls up driving Amelia’s beat-up Honda.
If the circumstances were different, I’d probably laugh.
Some men are born to ride horses; others are made for motorcycles.
Shadow is the latter and seeing him struggle to climb out of Amelia’s car is a sight I likely won’t forget.
When he finally makes it out from behind the wheel, and straightens to his full height, he walks over to me and Amelia.
He gives his cousin’s arm a squeeze, then fixes me with a stare.
He doesn’t offer his condolences, nor does he give me a well-rehearsed speech.
Shadow is a straight shooter, and I respect the fuck out of him.
It’s the very reason we’ve stayed friends for as long as we have, despite our lives moving in totally different directions.
“Nothing I say will make any of this right. Just know I’m here if you need anything.”
“I appreciate it, man.”
He turns to Amelia. “You ready to go?”
Our eyes lock and for a moment, everything else fades away.
She’s all I see.
All I hear.
And fuck, do I want her to be the only thing I feel.
Pulling me out of my trance, she hands me Wyatt’s keys. “Again, I’m so sorry.”
“Yeah,” I pull my hand out of my pocket, and take the keys from her. Our fingers brush, and a familiar spark flickers to life. “Me too.”
It’s an open apology, spoken years too late.
I lift the whiskey bottle and pour the remaining liquid into the crystal tumbler. The bottle was full when I began my quest to erase the image of the coroner zipping the body bag containing my grandfather’s body from my mind.
I wish I could say my plan worked, that the hours I’ve spent drinking have not only bleached the horrid memory, but have made me numb to the tragedy. That’s just not the case, though. I’m not even numb, and the only thing I’ve done is prolong the inevitable.
Knocking back the last of the whiskey, I slam down the glass and reach for my phone.
I try to recall the last time I picked up the phone to call my sister, but I can’t.
I should feel guilty, but the phone works two ways, and while she’s been off, chasing her dreams, making a life for herself, I’ve been here struggling to preserve our family legacy, watching as our grandfather slipped away.
There were so many times I thought about asking her for help.
I figured maybe she could take a sabbatical from her cushy life, come home and care for granddaddy.
I wouldn’t have had to pay an aide or be in a constant state of worry every fucking day of my life.
Hell, if Della were here, our grandfather might still be alive tonight.
He would never have gotten on that fucking horse if she had been home, watching out for him.
My fingers curl around the phone, and my jaw clenches at the thought. In the back of my head, I know I’m doing exactly what Tyler told me not to, that I’m looking to cast blame on someone other than myself, but I just don’t seem to give a fuck.
I glance out the window as the phone rings and rings, cringing inwardly when I realize the sun isn’t even up yet, and my sister is probably in her tenth dream. But just as I’m about to end the call, Della’s voice floats through the line, and to my surprise, she doesn’t sound like I’ve woken her.
“Hey, Maddox.”
“Hey yourself,” I say, my tone hoarse, but at least I’m not slurring. “I didn’t realize the time. I should’ve waited a couple of hours.”
“It’s fine. You’re not the only one with an ungodly schedule. I worked through the night. I’m actually just getting ready to wrap things up here.”
That gives me pause. I don’t know much about Della’s job, but she works in an office and plays with numbers. Pulling an all-nighter when it’s not tax season doesn’t seem kosher to me.
“Is everything okay? You hardly ever call me,” she says. “Something wrong with the ranch?”
My gaze slides to Granddaddy’s recliner as I try to choose my next words carefully. The fact she would automatically assume there’s a problem with the ranch and not ask about our grandfather irks me.
“No, it’s not the ranch,” I clip.
She sighs through the line. “Okay, well, you didn’t call to shoot the shit with me, Maddox.”
Damn right I didn’t. Those days are long gone.
“It’s Granddaddy, Della.”
“What about him? Is he giving the aide a hard time again? I told you we should’ve listened to Judy when she suggested we put him in a nursing home. At least there he would have—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
An exasperated sigh sounds on her end.
“Don’t get that tone with me. All I’m saying is that a nursing home would’ve been the best choice for him, but your ego wouldn’t allow it. Now, you’re calling me at four in the morning because he’s having an episode, and you don’t know what to do.”
The fucking nerve of her. If I could somehow reach through the phone and throttle her, I would.
“No, Della, I’m calling you because Granddaddy is gone. He fucking died tonight. But go ahead, tell me again how I should’ve put him in a nursing home.”
She’s gonna say it anyway when she learns the truth.
I might as well get used to it.
The shit thing is… she’s right, and I fucking hate that.