Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Emotions high, I sprint back to my house, change, grab my pistol, and then spend the next few hours out in the fields, looking for any sign of what might’ve spooked Old Man Dan’s horse.
The site of the accident is far enough away from the main property that no one saw or heard anything, but I really thought I’d be able to find a clue that would help me piece together what happened. Unfortunately, the tire tracks, flattened grass, and ridiculous amount of bootprints left by the first responders covered up any usable evidence in the immediate area.
I keep looking anyway, but beyond some coyote tracks about half a mile away, my search comes up empty. Maybe he really did fall? However good he is on a horse, Old Man Dan is aging and accidents do happen…
With a sigh, I reluctantly leave the field, feeling useless and defeated. By the time I get home, Noah is playing video games in the living room, Ryker is nowhere to be found, and Dad is already back at work, which is absolutely unfathomable to me. How can they just go on about their lives when our neighbor, a man who’s practically family, is in the hospital ?
I grab my phone, a fraction of my anger dissipating when I see a text from Ryker.
Trouble
I’m at the station filling out paperwork for the academy with your dad, but I wanted to remind you that Old Man Dan is one tough son of a bitch. He’ll pull through.
I also got the phone number for the hospital.
There’s a third text with a screenshot of the hospital’s contact information.
Still restless, I click on the number to call Elanor.
I thought the purpose of technology was to make our lives easier, but every time I call, I’m barely able to say my name before the automated operator transfers me to the same wrong room. Each time, the rather surly man who answers gets more and more frustrated by my frantic requests for updates.
“Officer Kelp,” he says for the fourth time.
“Dammit. It’s me again, sorry.”
On my fifth attempt, I’m so frustrated I just yell “Elanor Crowe” into the automated system instead of my name. By some miracle it actually works, and I sigh in relief when Elanor’s voice answers the phone.
“Hello?” she says weakly, and my small feeling of victory is immediately eclipsed by the sadness dripping from her tone.
“Mrs. Crowe, it’s Willa. How are you? How’s Old Man Dan?”
My lips tremble as she explains that her husband is in a medically induced coma and will be for the foreseeable future—at least until the swelling in his brain goes down.
“When he does wake up,” she continues, “the doctors suspect he’ll need months of rehab. I’m so sorry to do this to you, sweetie, but I’ve spoken to my lawyer, and we’ve accepted one of the offers for the ranch and the house. We need the money for Daniel’s care. The truck is yours, and if you don’t mind stoppin’ by every now and then to make sure the house isn’t falling apart until the sale goes through, I’d be more than happy to pay you.”
“Of course I can do that.” My voice cracks, and I have to clear my throat before continuing. “You don’t need to pay me either.”
“You’re too sweet.” She sniffles into the phone. “Don’t be surprised if you see a lot of traffic at the ranch. We’re moving fast, so the next few days are going to be jam-packed with activity.”
I bob my head. “Mrs. Crowe?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Who are you selling the property to?”
She sucks in a sharp breath. “Kane Bennett.”
Ice prickles across my skin. Once the sale goes through, Kane will own each and every square inch of land surrounding my house…
Sometime around midnight, Ryker crawls into my bed. He doesn’t say a word, just wraps his arms around my middle and tucks me against his chest. I want to ask him what he’s doing. I want to demand he go convince his brother not to buy the ranch because once he does, that will mean the Crowes are really gone…
But I don’t say a word because the warmth of his body pressed against mine and his comforting smell keeps the deep sadness at bay, preventing me from drowning, at least for one more night.
Unfortunately, I wake the next morning to Ryker packing for an unplanned trip to Denton after receiving an email from his lawyer asking to meet with him and Charlie’s foster parents. He apologizes profusely while spreading Nutella over toast and forcing me to eat before he leaves, but that only makes me feel more guilty about wanting him to stay.
Noah disappears shortly after Ryker’s departure to do God knows what.
Then I’m alone .
Later that day, I watch from the window as a brigade of semitrucks cart off each and every single animal from Crowe Ranch. Their attorney also stops by my house with the pink slip for the truck and a note from Elanor saying it’s officially mine.
Sleep is fitful and sparse, and the next day, the noonday sun has barely settled in the sky when the ranch hands load up and head out, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake that I choke on while trying to garden.
There’s no bleating livestock. No pounding of hooves. No shouts or laughter.
The atmosphere is eerie and desolate.
The following day, not even a full seventy-two hours after all this chaos started, I watch as a crew of movers pack up and cart off the Crowes’ belongings for storage.
It’s all so sudden…and permanent. I’d love nothing more than to crawl back into bed and pretend this isn’t happening, but then a caseworker from CPS rings my doorbell.
For thirty minutes, I try to explain that Beau Blackthorne is the absolute scum of the earth and shouldn’t be allowed within a mile of his daughter, but she won’t have any of it.
“Miss Dunn,” the exasperated caseworker huffs as little beads of bronzer-coated sweat run down the sides of her pale cheeks. “For the last time, I stopped by to speak with your father as part of the reunification protocol, not you . Now, if I can just be on my?—”
I sidestep, once again blocking her from leaving the porch. “You’ve seen the report, right? Tell me someone at your office has seen the documentation of how violent Beau is.”
She hugs the clipboard to her chest, puffing her cheeks to blow her yellow-blonde hair out of her eyes, sending a powerful wave of plumeria and diet coke in my direction in the process. “I’m not at liberty to disclose that information.”
“He tore my favorite jacket!” I turn, putting my shoulder in front of her face. But then I hear how dumb that must sound and realize she’s going to need to see what’s under the ripped fabric for it to have any effect.
Sighing, I pull the sleeve down, pointing to the fading remnants of the pale green-and-yellow bruise. “Beau hit me with a baseball bat after attacking his stepson. This bruise is weeks old. How is that a safe environment for a nine-year-old little girl?”
She eyes the fist-sized discoloration, briefly glancing at the scars on my shoulder and then down to her clipboard. Her expression softens the tiniest bit. “It’s been documented. That’s all I can say. Now, can I please go?”
Unsure what else I can do, I drop my head and move out of her way. She leaves without another word, her car tires filling the air with the nauseating scent of exhaust as she spins out onto the dirt road.
“Dammit!” I scream into the wind, repeating the phrase until my throat is raw.
I hate everything.
I hate that Charlie’s father is a piece of shit. I hate that Old Man Dan got hurt. I hate that all of a sudden Isabel is too busy entertaining her cousin to hang out with me. I hate that she’s being secretive about what they’re doing and that she’s not inviting me to tag along. I hate that Noah has dragged Ryker off to fish every day since he got back from Denton and that the only time I see Ryker is when he sneaks into my bed to hold me in the middle of the night.
I also hate myself for being upset about that last one in the first place. I’m leaving soon, I shouldn’t get attached to anyone or anything I can’t keep.
Collapsing into a heap on the rocking bench, I cross my arms and pout, the chair creaking from my forceful rocking. The cicadas and crickets sing their manic songs as the breeze shifts my hair while poor, unsuspecting mosquitos and flies get electrocuted by the stupid bug zapper.
Then everything goes still and quiet, the steady hum of the electric insect killer the only sound in my ears. I stop rocking, uneasiness seeping into my pores and the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. Slowly, I rise to my feet, and unplug the death machine.
Wind tousles my hair and rips through the nearby trees, drawing a low groan from their dead branches. But there are no birds chirping. No cicadas singing their eerie songs.
Just silence.
Something is out there…
Movement to my left catches my attention… A crouching shadow, barely noticeable in the tree line, but it’s definitely there. Watching me.
I lift my arms up over my head, pretending to stretch to see if I can get a better look. Whatever it is, it’s cloaked beneath the thick shade canopy not too far away from the path my mom and I used to take on our walks to the Cartwright Estate—the one I like to pretend doesn’t exist .
Sweat pools on my lower back and I shudder.
My first instinct is that it must be a coyote or a stray dog, but when a stream of sunlight breaks through the clouds, I swear I see two curling horns. My gut tightens, adrenaline pounding in my veins.
All the animals from the ranch are gone…
“Willa?” a deep, melodic voice calls from my right.
I jump two feet into the air, my soul temporarily leaving my body when Kane Bennett appears at the bottom of the porch. “Jesus Christ!”
“Alas, I am but merely his servant.” Kane half bows, peering up at me over those ridiculous wire-rimmed glasses as the sun beats down on his raven hair. “Is my brother around?”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Why, so you can drug him again?”
“That’s actually why I’m here,” Kane laments, his entire countenance changing from playful to serious in the blink of an eye. “Another member of our collective fell ill shortly after the two of you left. She was hallucinating, and at one point may have even had a seizure.” He drops his eyes to the concrete walkway, shoulders slumping, like it hurts to relive the memory.
I lift a single brow but unfurl my arms. “Is she okay?”
“Yes, thankfully.” He breathes out a heavy sigh and climbs up the stairs, the silver cicada bolo tie around his neck swaying as he stands before me.
“Turns out our property has a meadow full of a rather poisonous flower called hemlock. Not knowing what it was, I’d asked Ryker and a few others to clear it out so we could make room for a garden.” His lips thin as he looks away from me. “Our resident healer said it could have been fatal. I came to see if he was doing alright and beg for his forgiveness.”
I purse my lips. If I hadn’t seen the field of flowers for myself, I might say the whole story sounded a little outlandish, but Elanor did mention that was a possibility when she warned me away from the same plant out in her pasture…
“Why are you just now stopping by to check on him?” I ask, back straight and brow still raised. “It’s been weeks.”
“Our healer made the connection yesterday. I came as soon as we confirmed.” Kane stares up at me through thick lashes with green eyes so much darker than his brother’s—emerald instead of moss.
My posture softens. I can’t begin to imagine the guilt he must be feeling right now.
“Ryker’s fine. I think he’s more worried about Charlie right now than anything else.” I reach out, gently patting Kane’s forearm. “He’s out fishing with Noah, but you should still explain to him what happened as soon as you get the chance.”
Kane’s gaze drops to my hand on his arm, his lip twitching up at the corner ever so slightly before he asks, “He doesn’t remember anything?”
My spine stiffens, but I force myself to shrug. “No, not really.”
Kane’s brow furrows, and he gets a far-off look in his eye until a passing delivery truck shifts gears, the sharp grating noise cutting through the silence and snapping him from his reverie .
“Kane?” My brow furrows as I lean to the side and glance at the empty driveway.
“Yes?”
“Where’s your car? Did you walk here?”
A satisfied gleam sparks in his eye. “I just met with the Crowes’ attorney next door. We’re in the process of renegotiating some of the smaller details of my previous offer now that it includes the house. My car is parked over there.”
I follow Kane’s hand, spotting his boat-sized white Cadillac in the Crowes’ driveway. After sucking down a painful breath, I press my palm to my chest to ease the growing ache.
This is all happening too fast. I was supposed to be the one leaving …
“Old Man Crowe is going to be just fine.” I startle when Kane’s dry hand cups my face, his fingers like weathered paper against my cheek. He smells like old parchment and something earthy and green.
I should pull away, but I’m such an emotional mess right now that when he tugs me in for a hug, I tense, but don’t fight him.
“We’re told that God will never test us beyond our limits,” Kane says, holding me so tightly I have to adjust my cheek to keep the cicada bolo tie from digging into my flesh. “But the truth is, we are tested to weed out the weak. You are not weak. You’ve already survived so much worse than this.”
Tilting my chin up, I stare up at him, confusion rippling across my brow as I breathe in his musty tweed jacket. Beyond Ryker’s brief text, that’s the only comforting thing anyone’s said to me in the past few days.
The tightness in my chest lessens.
Maybe I was wrong about Kane the same way I was about Ryker…