Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
CASH
C ash’s gaze lifted from his e-reader once again, this time drawn to the way Wilder’s leg twitched in his sleep. He honestly hadn’t expected the man to be comfortable enough to fall asleep with everyone around, but maybe he was more exhausted than he let on. Cash had stayed close throughout the day, keeping an eye on him. Lain would probably want an update later. He was surprised he hadn’t seen the boss at all today. He often came out to see how the ranch was running. Was he worried about interacting with Wilder? That was inevitable. Probably better to just get the awkwardness over with. Wilder was here for the next two years, for better or worse, unless he did something especially shitty and got himself the boot.
Cash didn’t think that would happen, though. Wilder worked like a machine in the barn, grooming the horses, cleaning the tack and saddles, mucking out the stalls. He’d even hopped on Persimmon and helped Darryl wrangle the wily mustang into a smaller paddock to keep him from roaming so far. Cash would need to see about that one soon. A problem for tomorrow, at this point.
“If that was anybody else,” Darryl said, pointing at Wilder, “we’d give him hell for falling asleep in here like that. Remember that time Art drew on my face for falling asleep?”
“What’s he got to be tired for, anyway?” Billy asked. “He barely did anything.”
“You think anybody sleeps peacefully in prison?” Clyde asked from the stove. “He’s probably got years of catching up to do.”
“I ain’t giving him hell for shit,” Wayne added. “He’s a scary motherfucker.”
“I went to high school with him and Lain,” Billy said dismissively. “He ain’t all that.”
“Tell that to his daddy,” someone murmured, but Cash wasn’t sure who.
“Enough,” Cash drawled.
“What were they like back then?” Darryl asked. Barely older than Lain, he’d moved to Roselake a year ago and had been working at the ranch for about eight months.
Billy shrugged. “We didn’t talk much. They were a couple of years older than me. I was on the football team, and they were… hell, nothing. They didn’t do anything but go to school and go home.”
“You were hot shit and they were losers, is that what you’re saying?” Wayne asked, brushing his shaggy hair back from his face. Much longer and he’d need a hair tie.
“I’m saying we ran in different circles,” Billy said, in a way that sounded more like ‘ yes, that’s exactly what I mean .’ “They mostly kept to themselves. I couldn’t tell ‘em apart back then. They were pretty much interchangeable. The Blackwood boys, that’s what people called them. Everybody knew their daddy was a shithead. Guess nobody expected one of the boys to turn out so much worse than him.”
“I said enough ,” Cash said. If, by some chance, Wilder was dozing lightly enough to be registering all of this, he didn’t want it causing tensions between the hands. “None of you were there. None of you know what happened. I won’t hear speculation or judgments from any of you. Am I clear?”
A chorus of “yes, boss” filled the air, though some of them—like Billy—sounded more begrudging than others.
At long last, Clyde announced, “Food’s ready. Come and get it, nice and orderly like.”
While the others rushed to be the first in line, Cash set his e-reader aside and stood with a long stretch. Waking Wilder was probably going to be a little unsafe. Inching closer, he gently laid a hand on Wilder’s shin and gave it a little shake.
“Wilder, time to eat. Wake up.”
He moved like a striking snake, kicking hard as he fumbled his hat off to see who was touching him. Cash was lucky he was expecting it and caught Wilder’s boot in his hands, just shy of his stomach. When their eyes met, Wilder’s were wide.
“Sorry,” he said, and Cash tried not to notice the way his legs were splayed apart like this.
Cash released him, and Wilder straightened. “It’s fine. No harm done.” He jerked his thumb toward the kitchen, where a couple of the guys were watching them now. “Food’s done. Hungry?”
“Yeah, I could eat.” He left his hat on the chair and stood. There was still a dirt stain on the front of his shirt from Persimmon’s nose earlier, and Cash bit back a smile at the sight. He looked good like this, fresh off a day’s work. Like he was more settled in his skin than he had been this morning.
Cash doubted it was a coincidence that one of the only open chairs left after everyone got their food just so happened to be beside Wilder. He cast a judgmental glare on the rest of the table as he took the seat. Clyde made some kind of meat and potato casserole, and for a while, the table was quiet as everyone dug in, broken only by the clatter of silverware and the occasional hum of enjoyment.
Idly, he watched Wilder from the corner of his eye. The man was fascinating, an enigma wrapped in danger wrapped in an incredibly attractive package. He was bent over his plate, one elbow on the table with his arm curling behind his head, like he could shield himself from the curious gazes of the other hands.
“We ought to make a trip into town soon,” Darryl said, glancing around at everyone. “Hit up a couple of the bars.”
“Bars?” Wilder repeated, raising his head—and looking like he regretted it when all eyes turned toward him. “There’s more than one now?”
A couple of the guys chuckled. “Yeah,” Darryl replied. “The town gets quite a bit of tourism these days. All of Rose County does, really. Boss has even been thinking about doing something to attract people here to the ranch.”
“What would tourists want with a cattle ranch?” Wilder asked, a weary rasp to his voice.
“You saw it,” Cash replied. “It’s beautiful out here. Nature lovers could come and camp, pretend like they’re roughing it. We could take them on horseback riding trails to a private section of the lake.”
“Glamping, ain’t that what they call it these days?” Wayne said, grinning. “Folks’ll pay a pretty penny to pretend they’re living rough.”
A furrow appeared between Wilder’s brows, like it was the strangest thing he’d ever heard. Cash chuckled, transferring his fork to his other hand so he could clap him on the back. That confused gaze turned toward him, like Cash touching him was equally bewildering.
“Anyway,” Darryl said, getting them back on track, “we should hit one of the bars soon. I could go for a drink or five.”
“You’ve got a three drink limit after last time,” Clyde said.
“What? No way!” Darryl exclaimed. “Look, it wasn’t my fault that dude thought I was trying to pick a fight! All’s I did was bump into him!”
“You grabbed his ass!” Billy said.
“He had long blond hair! I thought he was a woman!”
“Don’t be grabbing any asses, dickhead,” Wayne said around a mouthful of food. “You deserved that punch.”
“Horse shit!” Darryl hollered, fighting a grin. “It was an honest mistake!”
“Ain’t nothing about you honest,” Clyde said through a laugh.
“But plenty about him’s a mistake!” Billy added, and they all dissolved into laughter.
Wilder watched it all with a bemused look, occasionally remembering to put food in his mouth.
“Wilder should come, too,” Darryl said after they all stopped laughing, pointing at him. “How long has it been since you’ve had a drink?”
“Technically it wasn’t legal for me to drink when I went in,” Wilder said, rubbing his neck. The motion hid the knife tattoo from view. “I snuck in a few when I was a teenager, but yeah, it’s probably been eight or nine years.”
“We should definitely go out, then!” Darryl smacked Billy on the arm, and Billy tossed him a halfhearted scowl.
“Are you allowed?” Cash asked. “Sometimes sobriety is a condition of parole, right?”
Wilder nodded. “Sometimes. Not in my case. Alcohol had nothing to do with the original charges.”
At the mention of the original charges, a hush went over the rest of the group. Wilder glanced from face to face, as though waiting. There was a sharp glint in his eye. Challenging, Cash thought. Woe to the man who was dumb enough to rise to it.
Billy cleared his throat, leaning forward with his forearms on the edge of the table. Cash took a slow breath, ready to intervene.
“So what do the letters mean?” Billy asked, gesturing to his own knuckles, and Cash blew the breath back out. That wasn’t as bad as he was expecting. He wasn’t sure why Billy asked, though, since Clyde told them. Either he didn’t believe Clyde or he just wanted to hear it from Wilder himself.
Wilder straightened his fingers, glancing down at the ink on his knuckles. He didn’t reply, using that hand to reach for his water glass and taking a long sip instead. The silence extended, and Billy huffed out a laugh.
“Come on now,” Billy said. “You ain’t really as bad as all that, are you? You certainly didn’t seem to be in high school.”
The ghost of a frown crossed Wilder’s face, and Billy’s smile widened. There was something sharp around the edges of it. Cash didn’t like it, and when his eyes caught on Clyde’s, he realized he wasn’t the only one surprised by the venom there.
“Billy…” Wilder said, cocking his head. “What’s your last name?”
“Tanner.”
Wilder’s expression cleared. “Ah. And how is Rebecca?”
Billy’s mouth tightened. “My sister’s just fine. She’s married and happy and doesn’t think about you at all anymore.”
Oh . Cash’s brows lifted as he absorbed that information.
Wilder’s careful expression didn’t change. “I would hope not,” he said. “I was obviously bad news.” Amusement twinkled in his eyes, like he was sharing an inside joke with himself, but it felt like a veneer to hide whatever he truly felt underneath. It was a caution sign to anyone who could read.
Billy was either illiterate or too brash to pay attention. He nodded, his lips pursed. “Apparently. She was heartbroken for weeks after you dumped her, and then heartbroken all over again when the news broke that you were going to jail.”
Wilder ducked his head as a little huff of air left him, so quiet Cash thought he might’ve been the only one to hear it. He should put a stop to this before things got out of hand, but Wilder’s responses were fascinating.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Wilder drawled. “It must’ve been so hard for her, my getting locked up. I sure hate to hear that she struggled.” Shaking his head, he stood and picked his half-eaten plate up.
“Hey, fuck you,” Billy said, turning in his seat to keep Wilder in sight. “The whole town was shocked to hear about what you did, Wilder.”
“Mm-hm,” Wilder deadpanned as he carried his plate to the kitchen, scraping the food off into the compost bin and rinsing his plate. He even opened up the dishwasher and set his plate inside—something Cash was constantly riding the other hands’ asses about.
“Maybe we forgo the trip to the bar this time,” Wayne murmured, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
Wilder glanced back at them. “You guys are welcome to go. I’m turning in for the night. And again,” he pressed a hand to his chest, “ so sorry my prison stint was so hard on everyone else . It was so…” He stopped, as though searching for the right word, “thoughtless of me.”
Billy stood, looking thunderous, and Cash had had enough.
“Sit down,” he ordered sharply.
“But—“
“I said sit the fuck down.”
Mulishly, Billy sat back down, glaring daggers at Wilder, who looked askance at Cash.
“We’re good,” Cash said, kinder. “You can go. Have a good night, Wilder.”
Wilder diverted to the living room for his hat, gave Cash a nod of thanks, and slipped out of the room.
No one spoke after he left, and Cash pinned Billy with a glare. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you picking fights?”
Billy fidgeted. “I’m sorry, boss.” But he didn’t sound very sorry. “Seeing him again brought back a bunch of memories. Rebecca cried over him for weeks . And just when she was getting over him, everything with his daddy went down, and then she was all tore up about him going to prison. The whole town was in a state of shock after it happened. It was the first murder here in…” He paused, blowing out a breath. “Hell, a hundred years, probably.”
“What happened in the Blackwood family has nothing to do with you or your sister or the rest of the town,” Cash said. “I don’t want to hear that kind of talk again. If you can’t keep a civil tongue, keep your mouth shut. The last thing this ranch needs is the hands fighting amongst each other.”
Billy harrumphed. “Don’t even know why Lain let him come back. He’s bad news.”
“Lain let him come back because they’re brothers, and Wilder deserves a second chance.”
“He obviously doesn’t regret what he did. What’s to stop him from doing it again?” Billy said hotly, and goddamn if the other hands didn’t look considering.
“Billy,” Cash said coldly, “you can keep your opinions to yourself, or you can spend the last days of the summer doing all the worst jobs. Your choice.”
He sighed. “Yes, boss.”
But Cash feared the damage had already been done. The hands didn’t trust Wilder, and Wilder knew there was contention around his presence now.