Chapter 7
Tristan
It’s been the week from hell.
Two sales fell through because the buyers didn’t want to pay a delivery fee, insisting that I drive nine hours to deliver the horses—for free.
Another fell short due to the other farm’s budget constraints, which wouldn’t be a big deal if we hadn’t had another buyer who made an offer we had to refuse, who then went and bought other horses.
Sadie is still being ornery and picking fights with me. She’s sweet as pie to my sisters and her grandad, but me—I’m the worst.
I need to check on the horses, and then I’m going to the bar with Jimmy to complain about the status of my life.
When I get outside, I see someone on the roof of the barn, but not just anyone, my freaking eighty-one-year-old father.
“Dad!” I yell, rushing that way. To what? I don’t know—catch him if he falls. “What the hell are you doing?”
He glances down at me. “I’m fixing the roof. What the hell does it look like I’m doing?”
Trying to kill yourself.
“You can’t be up on the roof.”
He scoffs. “Says who?”
“Says the doctor after you broke your wrist a year ago when you thought you could cut a tree down—alone.”
Let’s say the score was…tree 1, Dad 0.
“Ah, what does he know? I’m fit as a fiddle.”
“And dumb as rocks,” I say under my breath.
“Huh?”
Also partially deaf, which we all use to our benefit at times like these. “Nothing. Get down. I’ll fix the roof.”
“You have enough to worry about. This is my farm,” he argues.
Six years ago my father suffered a heart attack.
Knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to continue in the way he had, he signed the farm over to the four of us.
I took the majority share so that I could run the farm, but my sisters each split the remaining shares.
Neither of them wanted to run it, and they agreed it was the best way to handle things.
So, technically, this is my farm, but he’d probably grow wings to fly over here and kill me if I remind him of that fact.
“Dad, you can’t be on the damn roof. Where is Harper?” I ask. Harper’s job is to watch Dad. Clearly she’s on a break.
“Who knows. I told her I was going to nap.”
Of course he did.
“So you lied?”
He scoffs. “I did nap, and then I woke up.”
I move the ladder to an easier spot and climb up. “Come on,” I urge him.
My father, stubborn as ever, crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m fixing the damn roof, Tristan. I’ll get down when I’m done.”
Well, I can’t fucking leave him here. He’ll fall, die, and I’ll live with even more grief than I already do over people getting hurt. I sigh, climb up with him, and look at the spot he was working on. I don’t see any holes or obvious signs that there’s an issue.
“There’s nothing wrong with the roof.”
He looks around, pursing his lips. “It’s leaking.”
“Where?”
“How the hell should I know?”
Some days I question why I ever wanted to move back home to raise my daughter here. This man is a mess.
“Dad,” I say, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You’re up on the damn roof to fix it and you don’t know why?”
He laughs. “Got you!”
Yeah, he got me. “Right.”
“Right over there.” He points farther down the roof. “That’s where there’s a hole.”
I’m so glad he finds this amusing. Instead of arguing with him, which I swear is what he wants most days, I grab the toolbox and walk over. The hole is about the size of a golf ball and definitely needs to be patched.
“All right, Dad. Maybe you can walk me through how to do it,” I say with a little more compassion and a lot less frustration.
Letting go of this place hasn’t been easy on Dad.
He built a lot of these structures with his two hands.
Our farm wasn’t nearly as profitable when he was growing up here.
My grandpa was a good man, but he wasn’t very smart when it came to the business side of things.
When Dad got control, he really turned it around, and that’s because of his hard work.
Giving it up before he was ready, that took a toll on him.
While he doesn’t need to be climbing ladders and fixing roofs, I can’t say that when my independence starts to dwindle, I won’t be holding on to what little I have with both hands.
“All right, son, get that patch over there.” Dad smiles, and I listen as he tells me how to fix the roof, something that I knew how to do all along.
Once it’s to his liking, he groans as he stands. “Thanks for the help, Pop.”
He nods. “How about tomorrow we work on the other chores you’ve been neglecting?”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something stupid and just nod. “Sure.”
Tomorrow I’m going to bribe my daughter with whatever the hell she wants to keep her grandfather busy.
Dad gets down off the roof without incident, and I follow, debating where I’m going to hide the ladder to prevent this next time. I’m sweating my ass off since I was on the hot roof while the sun was still up. That means another shower before I go out tonight.
When we’re both on solid ground, he looks over at me. “I’m not helpless, you know.”
I jerk my head back. “I never said you were.”
“You don’t have to say it. You and your sisters walk around, hiding things, telling me I can’t do what I want to do.”
“Pop, it’s not like that,” I say carefully. “I was there when the doctors told you that you needed to take it easy, that you couldn’t be outside doing chores for hours, up on a roof, under a tractor to fix the engine, and things that could make your heart weak.”
He shakes his head. “Those doctors don’t know nothing. I’m right as rain.”
And stubborn as a storm.
There isn’t a thing on this farm that Father’s hands haven’t touched. He worked relentlessly to give our family a good life. It’s why I moved Sadie and myself back in here after we lost Emmy Jo.
We had a beautiful house a few miles away. It was the house she’d always loved in town. It needed an ungodly amount of work, but she would go by it all the time and talk about how much she’d love to own it, restore it back to its former glory.
I bought that house for her.
I spent months turning it into a home we could live in, where we could raise a family and start living the life she would dream about.
I couldn’t stay there after she died.
It went from being filled with joy to memories of her dying.
I place my hand on my father’s shoulder. “You and I both know that’s not true, but maybe there are some things you could teach me and help with.”
My father’s chest puffs out. I should’ve done this a while back.
“I can do that.”
“I appreciate it, Dad.”
“I can also fix the mess you’re making with Sadie.”
Not this again. “I don’t think that’s the case, but I’ll let you know if I change my mind.”
He shakes his head. “Stubborn ass.”
“I wonder where I get it from.”
He laughs. “Speaking of, rumor has it you were awfully close with that Gatlin girl.”
I was wondering when this would start to get around. “I wasn’t close with her, we were in a store together.”
“Should’ve left.”
“We live in the same town with them, we can’t avoid them everywhere.” I keep the annoyance out of my voice—somehow.
“Maybe we can finally run them out,” Dad suggests. “Set their barn on fire or maybe a meteor will take them out.”
If I didn’t know better, I’d think my father was the suspect in these damn pranks. As much as my father can do some things, running isn’t one. He’d never be able to sneak away and physically do the things being done.
Cutting the fence—maybe.
The stuff to the barn—no way.
Still, I eye him. “Are you the one causing issues?”
His face scrunches. “Son, if I was doing anything, it wouldn’t be cutting a damn fence. I’d sell those horses out from under them. I didn’t need to do dumb things. When I wanted payback, I did it like a man.”
Yeah, sure he did. “Whatever you say, Pop.”
“Go on and finish your chores and get out of here. Sadie and I have big plans tonight when you go out.”
I bet they do. Most likely it’ll include starting trouble and doing something that’ll piss me off. My father is her greatest ally in giving me gray hairs.
“Two beers,” Jimmy says to Debra, the bartender who terrifies me just a little. I’m pretty sure she scares everyone here, which is why the owner of the Barley Beast keeps her.
She’s a beautiful woman, but she glares at you like she could pierce your soul. She also threatens the ways she’d dismember you if you tried anything.
There’s not a person alive who will defy her.
She scoffs. “Are you going to drink light beer this time?”
Jimmy clears his throat. “No.”
“You should,” she tells him, and I fight back a laugh.
Debra gets two bottles of beer and places them on the counter, popping the tops and nodding to me. “Tristan.”
“Deb.”
“Any trouble starts tonight, and I’ll have this dimwit do his job for once. You get me?”
I’m not sure why she thinks there would be any trouble. Unless…
I look around, and sure enough the fucking Gatlin brothers—well, half of them—are here, standing against the wall, glaring right at me.
I smile, lift my beer to Ryan and Deacon, and take a drink.
Idiots.
“There won’t be any on my part,” I inform her.
Jimmy groans. “Great. There goes our night.”
“Relax, I have no desire to get in a fight tonight. We’ll sit over there.” On the complete opposite side of the bar.
The Barley Beast, better known as the Beast to locals, is the only place around here where you can get pretty much any beer made. They specialize in local brews, and it’s always packed.
“Better not, Tristan,” Deb warns. “I won’t hesitate to kick all your asses. Don’t make me go into the hunting shack and sharpen anything.”
“You have my word,” I assure her.
The last thing I want to do is fight. Or maybe that’s a lie. Maybe that would be the best damn thing I could do. Work off this excess frustration. Between my father, Sadie, Lark, and my siblings, everyone is driving me to the brink of madness.
I was hoping a night out with my boy would temper that.
Jimmy and I walk to the other side and grab a table. He lifts his bottle. “To a night without drama.”