79. Barreling Down Like a West Texas Tornado
BARRELING DOWN LIKE A WEST TEXAS TORNADO
ELIAS
“Are you seeing the results?” Jon asks.
I nod, but recognize he can’t see that through the phone.
“I’m watching them now.” I stare at my laptop as the muted TV displays talking heads.
“The chyron is running every election across Texas right now, but I have the secretary of state’s site up and it isn’t showing what I hoped for. Are you expecting what I’m expecting?”
“The Judge won reelection. That’s no surprise. He’s a true politician. With his last name, he’s going places. And his financial backing was worthy of a statewide race, not a rural county Judgeship.” His sigh pushes through the line. “Reyes though… he surprised me.”
“I didn’t think his people would vote him out. I thought his victory was a sure thing.”
“Everyone did.”
“So, they’ll have unanimous consent to move forward with dissolving the conservancy and to bring in developers?”
“When it comes to a vote—yes.”
“Any idea when we can expect that?”
“Quickly. Don’t get complacent.”
“Got it. Thanks, Jon.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs before disconnecting.
I’m unhappy about Reyes, and not just because he’s a friend to the Rangers. He’s a good man who’s done right by his constituents and the county for a long time.
But what Jon doesn’t know—or at least what I haven’t told him, and I hope hasn’t gotten around—is Reyes has been helping establish some additional protections during his reelection bid.
He’s made some introductions for me and smoothed the way for inroads for Kimp in other places, all the while campaigning.
There’s one last piece of my strategy that needs to fall into place to protect the Rangers. Tomorrow I’ll lean hard on the last of them so we outsmart the developer’s group. They’re bigger, richer, and throwing their weight around like bullies on the playground.
But anytime someone focuses on using their weight instead of their brains, they’re bound to be out-thought and out-strategized. I’m hoping for just that.
“I’m heading back to Pop’s.”
I turn to the sound of Brighton’s voice. I’ve all but moved into her place, but tonight we’re at mine. Well, I am. She’s heading to her every-other-night shift at Kimp’s.
“How grouchy is he about it?”
“He’s miserable and making us the same. I think he’d rather have a nurse. Well, he’d rather not need anybody. And he’s not far off from that.”
“He doesn’t really need round-the-clock care. I know you know that.” He’s been home from the hospital for three weeks.
“Either way, I’m going.” She flips her eyes to the TV and then my computer. “Think we’ll survive this?” she asks, waving her hand at the screens.
“I know we will.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Rangers never say die.”
She pats my shoulder, like one would a toddler. “That’s not the saying.”
“What is it then?”
“I don’t know, but it’s not that.” Her smile is wistful and the heaviness of the last month is written on her face. My beautiful, strong woman is tired—mentally and emotionally.
“Darlin’, I promised you babies. I’m not reneging on that promise. Period. And, if I’m not mistaken, you don’t want those babies growing up in a tract home, on a busy street, learning curse words at a community pool.”
Her face registers distaste as if she just swallowed a mouthful of bitter lemons.
I continue, “Our babies will learn swear words from their uncles while riding horses or mending fences. Or from their cousins while shoveling shit or getting up to no good on that ranch. It’ll be home base for our kids and our kids’ kids. We’ll find a way.”
“Elias, do you have something up your sleeve?”
“Always, darlin’. Always.”
“Gonna share?”
“Not yet. Go take care of Kimp. Tell him I’ll see him tomorrow.”
She gives me a quick peck, that I deepen. “Miss you already, baby. Don’t like sleeping alone.”
“I know. Maybe phone sex later?”
My face must communicate something to her, because her face splits into a wide grin. She turns to sashay away, but not before I give her tight ass one last slap.
Then I do what I should’ve done months ago, I grab my phone and dial Braxton.
“Can you meet me for a beer?”
“What’s this about, Eli?” Brax sets his beer on my coffee table, looking around from my sofa as if it’s a trap.
It smells stale from my lack of living here, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Everything will be in the open soon enough and I’ll be free to decide what to do with this house. But that’s a distant second to what’s on the forefront of my mind and on the tip of my tongue.
“No easy way to say this, so I’m going to just spit it out,” I start. But I don’t. No clue why, but I take the easy way out. It’s a chicken shit move, and I’m almost embarrassed for myself. “There are developers making a play for the conservancy property.”
His stare locks on mine, and his mouth drops open.
Before he can ask, I continue. “I got some intel and I’ve been working on it for a while now. I think we’re good and I’m hopeful you’re protected, but—”
“Hopeful or certain?”
I pause.
He gets louder. “Eli? Hopeful or certain?”
“Hopeful. Election results tonight were not in our favor.”
“Our favor?”
“Dude, I’ve been working on this and doing everything I can for months.”
“How long have you known?”
“Since the spring.”
He stands, growing impossibly bigger and angrier, almost like The Hulk. “The spring? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“What should I have said, Brax? Sorry your mom died, and, oh, the Veramendi Conservancy might become a mega-neighborhood… Good talk? That’s not me, and you know it.”
He stares as I stay seated, leaning forward in my chair, hands clasped.
Waiting.
“I did what I could, man, for every moment from then until now. I know their game and have devised a response to every strategy they could take. I’ve researched for damn near nine months the history of the land, the agreements, the deeds, and the covenant restrictions concerning it.
I know every place they could poke holes in that.
There’s a stop-gap measure in place if none of that works. ”
He retakes his seat, staring at me, as I go on.
“I couldn’t come to you when you were exhausted from lack of sleep when Colt came home or during the tenuous first weeks of Emberleigh’s arrival. There was a drought. Remember that? Your job has never been nine-to-five, and this summer was particularly trying for you. So I went to Kimp.”
He blinks, slow and dramatic, and it reminds me of a cartoon character. “Go on.”
“He asked me not to say anything to you. It wasn’t a command and it wasn’t deceptive. It was the request of a man protecting his son. He said you had a lot going on, and he’d take the burden until we knew more. And then shit went pear-shaped.” I pause. “Well, I don’t have to tell you.”
He nods. “And now?”
“Tonight, the votes didn’t go the way that we hoped. Reyes was voted out; Johnson was reelected. Both hurt our cause. Neither are insurmountable though.”
“That property is huge.”
“It is.”
He drains his beer and stands. “I can’t say I’m not pissed, but I understand.”
“There’s more,” I hedge, drinking my beer.
“Not tonight, there’s not. I need to get home to my family. I’m at my limit for information.”
I stand and walk to the door.
He extends a hand, and I take it. “Thanks for always being a brother to me, even when I didn’t know it.”
I swallow roughly, hoping he doesn’t see that. I’m glad, again, he’s not Exton reading my body language, and nod.
Somehow, I’ve managed to dig the hole even deeper when it comes to the lies I’m telling my best friend.
I pace the living room, twirling my phone over and over in my palm. I finally head to the bedroom and sit on the edge of my too-empty bed and text Brighton.
Me: Give Kimp grief for me. Heading to bed so I can get an early start in the morning. Love you, darlin’. Good night.”
Bright: Love you too. How did it go?
Me: Better than I expected, but that’s not saying much.
Bright: I’m sorry. Sleep well. {kissing emoji}
Brighton
A pounding on the door makes me jump. It’s always so quiet on the ranch at night that even a knock is loud. And this is no knock.
I walk to Pop’s front door and peek through the side glass. Chalk that up to something I never did prior to last month. Before then, the assumption was anyone on this property had the right to be here. Be they family or friend, they belonged.
But since the shit show that went to hell in a handbasket, Pop locks his doors, more cameras have been installed for security, and we’ve all become more cautious.
So the late-night surprise has my teeth on edge until I realize it’s Brax. Brax who isn’t using his key. Brax who didn’t call or text before coming by. Brax who just left Eli’s house after having a talk.
Fuck my life.
I pull the door wide because my brother doesn’t give me much of a choice. He’s barreling down like a west Texas tornado, and avoidance is better than collision.
“Where is he?”
“Asleep. Or he was. You should know that since Emberleigh stays here every other night and has for the last three weeks.” I shut the door behind him as he moves into Pop’s living room.
“I need to talk with him.”
“About something that can’t wait until tomorrow?”
He paces, his boots pounding a tattoo on the hardwood floors. That is, before he spins on me, staring curiously. The light bulb dawning is scary to witness. “You knew, and you knew I’d care. How could you withhold this from me?”
For the first time in my life, I see pain trump anger in Braxton’s face. Emberleigh has polished the rough edges and tamed the beast. I’d celebrate my big brother growing up if the result wasn’t pouring out as an accusation on me.
“Brax—”
“Don’t Brax me. You hid this from me. You. Eli. Pop. Didn’t I deserve to know?”
“Brax,” I begin again, but his eyes laser me to my spot. “No offense, but there’s been a lot going on.”
“So much so that you of all people couldn’t tell me?” He’s taken to pacing again, the steady clomps of his boots reminding me of the beginning of ‘Jolene.’
“That’s fair.”
“Oh, it is? Glad to know I get a voice in this.”
“Well, you do. And you don’t.”
The beast is back, and his anger is palpable.
My big brother, whom I’ve always tried to please, whose favor I’ve always wanted, and who’s approval I’ve fought for, clenches his fists as he stands in direct opposition to me and rages, “Care to explain to me how the threat to this ranch, to my business, our careers, to the breeding operation, to my home—our home—is something I do. Not. Get. An. Opinion. On?”
Well, I read that whole situation wrong. I need to think quickly. I thought he was going on about me and Elias.
This is worse.
“I just mean, you get a voice as loud as any of us. But ultimately, we need to outsmart people who don’t give a fuck about us. In that way, none of us have a voice.”
I watch him grapple with what I’ve said until he calms, even just a little. “Pop told you?”
Dangerous question. My only option is to go with honesty. If I know Eli at all, I know his candid, plain speech, especially around topics that are convoluted and complex.
“No. Elias told me.”
“What the fuck?” His gaze is calculating. I swear I can see the wheels turning. Who does he think is lying… me or Eli? “When?”
“About the same time Colt came home.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I don’t know, Braxton.” I throw out a hand before planting it back on my hip. “Maybe because it impacts our home, our business, our breeding operation. Why the hell do you think? Ugh!”
I turn back to the sofa and toss my phone screen-side down. No need pouring gasoline on this fire.
“So for damn near six months, you, Pop, and my so-called best friend have been keeping a secret from me? Fuck!” With nothing further to add and with no reply from me, he shakes his head and stalks out the house, slamming the door behind him.
I grab my phone and open the text string with Eli.
Me: Not that there will be a next time… but next time, let’s get our stories straight before I almost reveal our secret affair to my brother. I was just ambushed. I survived, but it was touch-and-go for a minute.
Eli: Next time we have a secret affair, I’ll be sure to do that.
My phone rings and Eli’s sleepy voice comes through the line. “What happened?”
“I guess you told him about the conservancy but not us?”
His voice is muted, and the sound of bristling whiskers meets my ears.
I picture him scrubbing his hand down his face.
“I couldn’t get it out, so I blurted out the developer’s plans, and he lost it.
I told him there was more. He declined to hear it and left.
I didn’t think he’d come at you over it. ”
“He didn’t. He came for Pop. I was just the fortunate gatekeeper who took the brunt.”
“I’m sorry, baby. That wasn’t my intention. You should never be the bulwark of anything directed at me.”
“Elias Finchley, don’t you dare assume you’re with a weak woman. I can handle my own shit, and I can certainly handle my brother.”
“Darlin’, I don’t doubt your strength, intelligence, or your ability to handle anyone, much less Braxton. I’m just saying that’s my job. I know you can. I don’t want you to have to. There’s a difference.”
“But—”
“But nothing. I take care of you… not because you can’t but because I want to, and because you deserve it.”
I like that. A lot. “Thank you. That means more than you know.”
“You know what else it means?”
“What?”
“That we still have to tell Brax about us.”
“Shit.”