Chapter 14 Ghosts Return
The Woman in the Black SUV
The trouble arrived on a Tuesday morning.
At first, nobody realized it was trouble.
Including me.
The day had started normally enough.
The sun rose over Blackthorn Ranch in a blaze of orange and gold.
The horses needed feeding.
Several fence posts needed replacing.
One of the newer ranch hands accidentally locked himself inside a storage shed and had to be rescued before breakfast.
Normal ranch life.
The kind I'd somehow grown to love.
I spent most of the morning helping repair a section of fencing damaged during the previous week's storm.
The work was repetitive but satisfying.
By now, tasks that once seemed impossible felt familiar.
Comfortable.
I was tightening wire when the distant sound of an engine drifted across the property.
Nothing unusual.
Vehicles came and went all the time.
Deliveries.
Workers.
Visitors.
The ranch was rarely quiet for long.
Still, something made me glance toward the main driveway.
A black SUV rolled slowly toward the ranch house.
Expensive.
Shiny.
Completely out of place.
The vehicle looked like it belonged in a city parking garage, not on a working ranch covered in dust and cattle.
I frowned slightly.
Interesting.
A few workers noticed too.
One of them let out a low whistle.
"Well, that's different."
Another ranch hand looked up from his work.
"Wonder who that is."
The SUV continued forward.
Eventually stopping near the ranch house.
The driver's door opened.
A woman stepped out.
Everything about her screamed confidence.
Tall.
Elegant.
Beautiful.
The kind of woman who looked perfectly put together even while standing in the middle of a dusty ranch.
Dark sunglasses covered her eyes.
A tailored black blouse hugged her frame.
Her hair looked like it belonged in a magazine advertisement.
Meanwhile, I'd spent the morning sweating through fence repairs.
Life wasn't fair.
The workers exchanged curious glances.
Nobody seemed to recognize her immediately.
I didn't either.
At least not yet.
The woman removed her sunglasses and surveyed the property.
Something about the way she stood caught my attention.
She looked familiar with the ranch.
Comfortable.
Like she belonged here.
Or had once belonged here.
The thought settled quietly into the back of my mind.
A few moments later, the front door of the ranch house opened.
Ryder stepped outside.
The second he saw the woman, everything changed.
The shift happened instantly.
His posture stiffened.
His expression closed.
Every trace of relaxation disappeared.
I had never seen him react that way before.
Not once.
The sight sent a strange feeling through my stomach.
The woman smiled.
Ryder didn't.
Definitely trouble.
The two of them exchanged a few words.
Too far away to hear.
The conversation appeared polite.
Cold.
Controlled.
Not friendly.
Not hostile.
Something in between.
The woman folded her arms.
Ryder rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.
The gesture looked familiar.
He usually did that when stressed.
Or frustrated.
Or both.
My curiosity immediately became a problem.
The conversation continued for several minutes.
Then Ryder led her inside the house.
The front door closed behind them.
The mystery remained.
Unfortunately.
By lunchtime, speculation had spread across the ranch.
Everyone wanted answers.
Nobody had them.
The workers developed theories anyway.
Humanity's favorite hobby.
Maybe she was a business partner.
Maybe she was a lawyer.
Maybe she was buying land.
Maybe she was secretly a federal agent investigating horse-related crimes.
That particular theory came from one of the younger ranch hands.
Nobody took it seriously.
Mostly.
I tried focusing on work.
The effort failed.
Because every time I looked toward the ranch house, I remembered Ryder's expression.
The tension.
The surprise.
The discomfort.
Whatever history existed between those two, it clearly mattered.
The realization bothered me more than it should have.
Considerably more.
The feeling only grew worse when the woman remained all afternoon.
Then stayed through dinner.
Then continued talking with Ryder afterward.
By evening, I was officially annoyed.
The emotion made no sense.
At least, that's what I kept telling myself.
People visited the ranch all the time.
Visitors weren't unusual.
There was no reason for me to care.
Except I did.
Very much.
Unfortunately.
After dinner, I wandered toward Whiskey's paddock in search of perspective.
The horse lifted his head when I approached.
His expression looked suspiciously judgmental.
As usual.
"Don't."
Whiskey continued chewing.
Completely unimpressed.
I sat beside the fence.
The evening air felt cooler than usual.
The sunset painted the ranch in shades of gold and crimson.
Beautiful.
Normally, the sight calmed me.
Not tonight.
My thoughts kept circling the same questions.
Who was she?
Why was Ryder so uncomfortable?
Why did she look at him like she knew things nobody else knew?
Most importantly, why was I acting like a jealous idiot?
The answer arrived immediately.
Because I was jealous.
There.
I admitted it.
The realization felt unpleasant.
Embarrassing.
Accurate.
I hated it.
The woman was gorgeous.
Successful-looking.
Confident.
Sophisticated.
Everything I wasn't.
The comparison happened automatically.
And unfairly.
Yet it happened anyway.
A familiar voice interrupted my thoughts.
"Talking to horses again?"
I looked up.
Ryder stood nearby.
The sight immediately improved my mood.
Which was another problem.
Several problems, actually.
I stood.
Trying not to appear overly interested.
Failing.
Probably.
"Who's the visitor?"
Direct.
Maybe too direct.
Ryder hesitated.
The reaction immediately made my stomach tighten.
Not a good sign.
For several seconds, he remained silent.
Then he sighed.
The sound carried exhaustion.
Resignation.
History.
The combination made my chest hurt.
"Her name's Rebecca."
I waited.
Unfortunately, he wasn't finished.
The next words changed everything.
"She's my ex-wife."
Silence.
Complete silence.
The world seemed to stop.
Even Whiskey looked interested.
Traitor.
I stared at Ryder.
Certain I'd misheard.
"Your what?"
"Ex-wife."
The answer came quietly.
Matter-of-fact.
As though he hadn't just dropped a grenade into the conversation.
My brain struggled to catch up.
Ex-wife.
The words echoed repeatedly.
I knew Ryder had been married.
He'd mentioned it briefly once.
Months ago.
The information had always felt distant.
Abstract.
Part of a life that existed before Blackthorn.
Before me.
Now suddenly that life had a face.
A beautiful face.
A confident face.
A very real face standing inside the ranch house.
The realization hit harder than expected.
Much harder.
Something uncomfortable settled deep inside my chest.
Not anger.
Not exactly.
Insecurity.
The dangerous kind.
The kind that whispered ugly questions.
The kind that compared.
The kind that doubted.
Because for the first time, Ryder's past no longer felt like a story.
It felt like competition.
And standing there beneath the fading evening sky, listening to the man I loved talk about the woman he'd once married, I felt the first sharp roots of uncertainty begin to grow.
Old Mistakes
The moment Rebecca stepped out of the black SUV, I knew my week was ruined.
Some people carried memories with them.
Rebecca carried entire chapters.
The sight of her standing in the driveway dragged me backward through years I rarely allowed myself to revisit.
Not because I hated her.
That would've been easier.
Hatred simplified things.
Made them clean.
Our story had never been clean.
Just complicated.
Painfully human.
And standing there in the Texas sun, watching my ex-wife remove her sunglasses and look around Blackthorn Ranch, I felt every old regret stirring awake.
Rebecca crossed her arms.
"Well."
I sighed.
That single word told me everything.
She wasn't here for a social visit.
"What happened?"
One eyebrow lifted.
"Nice to see you too."
I rubbed a hand across my jaw.
The familiar gesture appeared automatically whenever stress arrived.
Lately, that seemed to happen more often than I'd like.
Rebecca noticed.
She always noticed.
That had been part of the problem.
And part of the reason I'd fallen in love with her once.
Years ago, before everything went wrong.
"You look older."
I snorted.
"You came all this way for insults?"
A small smile appeared.
The first genuine smile I'd seen from her.
"Maybe."
Despite myself, I smiled back.
Only briefly.
Then reality returned.
Rebecca followed me inside the ranch house.
The moment the front door closed, the atmosphere shifted.
Neither of us needed small talk.
We'd earned the right to skip it.
Years ago.
She dropped her purse onto the kitchen table.
I poured coffee.
Old habits.
The silence stretched.
Neither of us rushed it.
Finally, Rebecca spoke.
"How've you been?"
The question sounded sincere.
That made it harder.
"Fine."
She laughed immediately.
The sound echoed through the kitchen.
"There he is."
I frowned.
"What?"
"The worst liar in Texas."
Unfortunately, she wasn't wrong.
Never had been.
Rebecca knew me too well.
Even now.
Especially now.
The realization felt strange.
Years separated us.
Entire lives separated us.
Yet sitting across from her still felt familiar.
Comfortable in some ways.
Painful in others.
She accepted the coffee and studied me over the rim of the mug.
The look made me uneasy.
I recognized it.
Assessment.
Observation.
The same expression she'd worn throughout our marriage whenever she knew something I hadn't admitted yet.
Not ideal.
"Why are you really here?"
The question finally cut through the nonsense.
Rebecca's expression softened.
Immediately.
The shift put me on edge.
Because it meant whatever brought her here wasn't simple.
And simple would've been nice.
For once.