Chapter 40
Chapter Forty
Jack
I’ve never been one to socialize a lot. Growing up, family dinner looked more like me, Jason, and Joanne eating pizza or whatever mom left in the fridge for us for dinner while we watched television or did homework. I’ve worked at other ranches, and we all just fended for ourselves.
Dinner with everyone every night is taking some getting used to, but I like it.
It’s Monday night, and the long wooden table is crowded with plates of food—roast beef, mashed potatoes, fresh-baked rolls.
“Brynn, I don’t know how you manage to feed all of us three meals a day with your schedule,” I tell her as I look around at the table in dismay.
“Crockpot, air fryer, and Blackstone,” she answers with a nonchalant shrug. “I’ve learned to minimize kitchen time as much as possible.”
“She’s a meal prep queen,” Paulo says with a grin. “Don’t let her fool you, she puts in a lot of hard work on Sundays when she meal preps for all of us.”
She shrugs again, her cheeks turning pink with the praise. “It’s not really meal prepping. It’s me putting a bunch of stuff in containers so that I can grab and go to put in the crockpot or whatever else.”
“Didn’t rain a drop today,” John says, cutting into his beef with a heavy sigh. “Third week straight of nothin’. If it don’t rain soon, we’re gonna have to start buying hay early. And Lord knows how expensive that’ll be.”
“Hay’s already up five bucks a bale,” Nick chimes in, reaching for the mashed potatoes. “Callahan said he had to drive a few hours just to find some at a halfway decent price.”
“Five bucks?” I shake my head. “If we don’t get rain in the next two weeks, it’s gonna be ten before we know it. And then what?”
“It’s going to get rough,” John says with a shake of his head.
“Speaking of bad luck,” Brynn says, looking over at me with a sharp eye. “Did you hear anything more about our cattle from Doc Sutton?”
Nick puts his fork down, frowning. “Not yet. Three dead in one night. A couple more are looking sick.”
“Do you think it’s the drought or poisoning?” Paulo asks.
“We won’t know until Doc tells us,” I say dismissively, my eyes flitting to Olivia’s.
She’s looking around the table, her face pale as she takes in the seriousness of what’s happening.
“Who would go after cattle like that? That’s…” Olivia says.
John wipes his mouth with his napkin, nodding. “I don’t like it. First a drought, now this? Feels like we can’t catch a damn break.”
A silence settles over the table before Paulo steers the conversation somewhere lighter. “Oh, and did you hear about Missy Reynolds? She ran off with that new mechanic over at Jansen’s.”
Brynn gasps. “Missy Reynolds? Are you sure?”
Olivia grins. “Saw ’em packing up his truck myself.”
“That girl’s always had a wild streak,” Nick mutters. “Bet her daddy’s fit to be tied.”
“You’re not wrong.” Paulo smirks. “Saw him down at the diner yesterday, red as a tomato.”
Nick chuckles and turns to Olivia. “So, what’s going on at school?”
She rolls her eyes. “Same old, same old. Tests, papers, and Mrs. Bennett is still out to get me.”
Brynn gives her a look. “Out to get you? What did you do?”
“Nothing!” Olivia throws up her hands. “She just doesn’t like me.”
Nick laughs. “I don’t think that’s possible, kiddo.”
John is quiet, picking at his food. It’s not unusual for him to be a little out of sorts, but the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes dart around the table, makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
It’s been a rough couple of weeks with the fire and the insurance adjuster; now the cattle are sick, and the ongoing drought is causing a lot of stress on him. Even with Brynn and me trying to pick up the slack, it’s too much.
I take a sip of my water, keeping an eye on him.
Then, he looks at me.
“Clay.”
The conversation around the table falters for a moment, but no one corrects him. It’s not the first time he’s called me by Brynn’s ex’s name.
I don’t react. Sometimes, it’s best to just let these things go. But John’s eyes narrow, his fingers tightening around his fork.
“I said Clay.” His voice is sharp now, demanding.
The table goes silent.
I glance at Brynn, whose fork is frozen halfway to her mouth. Her eyes flick to John, assessing the situation like she’s done this before.
I set my drink down. “John, it’s me. Jack.”
“Bullshit.” His voice rises. “I know who you are. Think you can sit at my table like nothing happened?”
Brynn slowly lowers her fork, her face calm, but I can see the tension in her shoulders. Olivia is staring at her plate, gripping her napkin in her lap.
John pushes his chair back roughly, his hands clenching into fists. “You think I don’t remember what you did? You got some nerve, Clay.”
I stay still, my instincts telling me not to react, not to feed into his confusion.
Brynn moves first. Her voice is gentle but firm. “Dad.” She stands, taking slow steps toward him. “That’s not Clay. Look at him.”
John’s gaze flickers to her, his breathing heavy.
“Clay’s in Texas, remember?” she says softly. “Riding bulls. He’s not here.”
John blinks, his anger faltering. “Texas?”
Brynn nods. “That’s right. He left years ago.”
John’s hands shake slightly as he looks back at me, his expression shifting from anger to something lost. “Texas…”
Brynn steps closer and lays a hand on his arm. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs, okay?”
John looks at her, his body deflating. He nods hesitantly.
She leads him away, her touch light, her voice steady as she murmurs to him. Olivia watches them go, her face unreadable.
The table remains silent until they disappear upstairs. Then, as if on cue, the conversation resumes—talk of the drought, the cattle, the new fencing needed before winter. Just like that, everyone moves on, as if nothing happened.
I glance at Olivia. She’s still staring at her plate, pushing food around with her fork.
When Brynn returns, she moves straight to the kitchen and begins to clean up. I watch her for a moment, taking in the quiet strength in the way she holds herself. Olivia is done eating, so she gets up and carries her plate into the kitchen. She starts to help her mom clean up.
“Olivia,” she says, not looking up. “Take Barney outside for a bit, will you?”
She hesitates but finally nods. I get up and empty my plate in the garbage before grabbing my hat. “I’ll go with her.”
Outside, the air is crisp, the sun setting in the distance, casting long shadows over the barn. Olivia throws a stick for Barney, watching as he bounds after it. She’s quiet, too quiet.
“You okay?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Yeah.”
“You know that—” I start.
“Popo’s sick. I know that.”
I lean against the fence. “Yeah.”
She keeps her eyes on the dog. “I’ve noticed it for a while. Mom doesn’t like to talk about it; it makes her sad. Some days are worse than others. Today was bad. I know he doesn’t like my dad and…I know why. I don’t understand why he thought you were him, though. You look nothing alike.”
I nod, waiting. A small smile plays on my lips at her last comment. I won’t say anything else, though; I get the feeling she needs to get this out on her own time.
She takes a deep breath. “Mom acts like she’s okay, but I know she worries all the time.
She barely sleeps as it is, but it’s worse when Popo has a rough day.
I hear her crying in the shower or in her bedroom sometime.
She doesn’t know that. I know she doesn’t want me to see her like that, but… I’m sad, too.”
My heart breaks. Here’s this little girl watching her mother shoulder all the pain and sadness for herself and others, and she wants to be there for her mom. I want to pull Olivia into a hug and make it better for both of them.
I look at her, seeing so much more than a twelve-year-old girl. She’s sharp, observant. Strong, like her mother.
“She’s lucky to have you,” I say.
Olivia snorts. “I don’t know what I can really do.”
“More than you think,” I tell her. “Just being here helps. You and your mom are a team. Maybe you should be with her when she’s like that.”
“Maybe.” She kicks at a rock. “I just hate seeing him like that. He’s not the same.”
I exhale, looking out over the fields. “I know.”
She finally turns to me. “You think he’s ever gonna get better?”
I meet her eyes, wishing I had a better answer. “I don’t know, kid. But what I do know is that he’s got people who love him. And that counts for something.”
She watches me for a second, then nods. “Yeah.”
We stand there for a while, the only sound Barney’s panting as he drops the stick at her feet. She bends down, ruffling his ears. “Thanks for talking to me.”
“Anytime.”
We head back toward the house, the warmth of the kitchen lights spilling onto the porch. Inside, Brynn is wiping down the counters, her face soft with exhaustion.
I watch her for a moment, taking in the way she holds everything together. Strong. Resilient.
I don’t know how she does it, but damn if I don’t admire her for it.