Chapter 17
SEBASTIAN
The barn is lit up like a military operation when I arrive forty minutes before departure.
The second I made the call to go ahead with the raid, my father mobilized every able-bodied ranch hand on the property. Twenty men, maybe more, all checking tack, loading rifles into saddle scabbards, speaking in the low, clipped tones of people preparing for violence.
This is us at our most primitive. No lawyers, no legal channels, no pretense of civilization. Just men protecting what is theirs, the way we’ve been doing for over a century.
Nathaniel stands near Cisco’s stall, already dressed in dark jeans, black shirt, his face grim. He looks up when I approach.
“Are we sure about this?” he asks quietly.
“No. But I’m done being cautious while Thomas Marshall thinks he can retaliate for shit that doesn’t concern him.”
“Dad’s thrilled. First time I’ve seen him this energized in years.” Nathaniel’s jaw tightens. “He misses this. The old ways. When problems were solved with horses and guns instead of phone calls and paperwork.”
“You don’t think this is a good idea?”
“I’m in agreement, but,” he answers as he checks his rifle, “I’ve got two girls that have already lost a mother. I need to come home, Seb.”
“You’ll come home. Stay away from the front, or hang back at the fence line,” I tell him, but I watch his face turn to anger.
“I don’t want to hang back, Seb, don’t you understand? I’m so tired of not being the one to call the shots here. This is my ranch. You left, you’ve got your own fancy life, but this is mine. I should be the one making the calls, but Dad thinks I’m too broken up over Sarah.” He’s pacing now.
I’ve been expecting this outburst, but maybe not on a night like tonight.
“We were getting a divorce, it’s not like I lost the love of my life. Fuck, we only got married because I knocked her up, and Mom forced it. I’m sad for my kids, they won’t know their mother, but fuck, it shouldn’t affect my job.” He runs his hand through his hair and stares at me.
“It does change everything, Nate, your girls need you and there’s no reason I can’t step up and help. Say the word and it’s all back to you, because like fuck I want to be riding out into the night when I could be in bed with Lennox.”
“Let’s get through tonight and then you can lounge in bed all day, brother.” He gives me half a smile, then finishes saddling his horse.
“Where’s Caroline?” I ask.
“On the phone with our insurance company, making sure we’re covered if this goes sideways.” Nathaniel’s smile is grim. “Someone has to think about consequences. Might as well be her.”
“And James?”
“On his way. He’s getting the night-vision equipment from storage. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”
I move through the barn, checking preparations, greeting ranch hands I’ve known since childhood.
Pete, who taught me to rope when I was eight.
Miguel, whose father worked for my grandfather.
Other newer ranch hands look nervous but steady.
I clap Hank on the back and receive a grim nod from Jackson, barely twenty-two but already one of the best horsemen on the property.
All of them are loyal. All of them are ready to ride into danger because we asked them to. The weight of that responsibility settles on my shoulders, and suddenly my life in California seems very far away.
“Sebastian.” Dad’s voice comes from behind me. I turn to find him in full rancher mode: jeans, boots, black shirt, his weathered face set in lines of determination. He looks ten years younger than he did this morning, energized by the prospect of action. “We need to go over the approach.”
He leads me to a table someone set up in the tack room, a satellite map of Drake and Marshall properties spread across it. Red pins mark our southern boundary, and blue pins mark the cut fence line and theft location.
“Marshall land starts here.” Dad taps the map.
“Their main operation is five miles south of the boundary. If they’ve got our cattle, they’re either there or at one of their outlying pastures.
” He traces possible routes with his finger.
“We’ll split into three groups. Nathaniel takes the east approach, I’ll take the west, and you take the middle with the bulk of the men.
We converge on their main facility from three sides. ”
“No, Nathaniel stays where it’s safe, we can split into two groups.”
“Fine, that’s probably smart. We don’t engage unless fired upon. This is about finding our property and taking it back. If the Marshalls want to make it violent, that’s on them.”
Dad’s eyes are hard.
“But we’re prepared either way.”
“Every man is armed: rifles, sidearms, whatever. James brought the thermal imaging equipment; we’ll be able to see their security setup before we’re spotted.” He looks up at me. “This isn’t our first rodeo, son. We’ve done this before.”
“When?”
“Just after you left for California. We had a situation with the Harrison ranch over water rights. They tried to divert a stream that fed our south pastures. Your grandfather tried legal channels for six months, got nowhere.” Dad’s smile is cold.
“So we rode onto their property one night, destroyed their diversion equipment, and made it clear the next time they touched our water, we’d burn their entire operation to the ground. ”
“Jesus, Dad.” I pull the hat off my head and run my hand through my hair.
“It worked. They backed off, sold the property two years later, and we bought it at auction.” He rolls up the map. “Sometimes you have to remind people that there are still consequences for stealing from a Drake. Legal or otherwise.”
Out here, power isn’t about contracts and quarterly earnings. It’s about land and cattle and the willingness to defend both with your life.
I haven’t forgotten that, I just used a little more tact in California. I’m ruthless and always get what I want, but sometimes a good whiskey and blackmail does the trick better than horses and guns.
“What about Lennox?” Nathaniel asks, appearing in the doorway. “You’re serious about bringing her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” Dad frowns. “This isn’t women’s work, Sebastian. It’s potentially dangerous.”
“She’s my wife. She should see what it means to be a Drake. All of it, not just the sanitized version Mom presents over tea in the conservatory.”
“And if bullets start flying?”
“They won’t,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “The Marshalls aren’t stupid. They know starting a shooting war with us will end badly for everyone. This is about intimidation, about showing force. We find our cattle, we take them back, we leave.”
“You hope,” Nathaniel mutters.
“I know.” But I don’t. Not really. Thomas Marshall has already proven he doesn’t respect normal boundaries by stealing from us in the first place. Who knows what he’ll do when we show up armed and demanding our property back?
Boots on gravel announce new arrivals. I look out to see ranch hands mounting up, checking weapons, ready to leave. The nervous energy in the air is palpable, anticipation mixed with fear, and the dark excitement of riding into potential conflict.
And there, walking toward the barn in dark jeans and a black shirt, blonde hair braided tight against her head and wearing a black cowboy hat, is Lennox.
She’s followed instructions. Dressed for riding, for darkness, for potential violence. The look on her face is pure determination. When she sees me, something flickers in her eyes—anger, hatred even—but a spark I haven’t noticed before. She’s ready for this.
“That’s your wife?” one of the younger ranch hands, Adam, says with appreciation. “Damn, boss. She looks like she could handle this entire thing herself.”
“She probably could.” I move to meet her. “You ready?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“No.”
“Then I’m ready.” Her eyes cut to the armed men mounting horses, the weapons being loaded, the grim determination on every face. “This is insane, Sebastian. You know that, right?”
“Welcome to Texas.” I guide her toward where Duchess waits, already saddled. “Stick close to me. Do exactly what I say if the shooting starts.”
“If shooting starts, we’re all fucked.” She grabs Duchess’s reins. “But sure, I’ll stick close to you and follow orders like a good little wife.”
The bitterness in her voice cuts deeper than it should. Over the past couple of weeks, we’ve found almost a peace between us, an unspoken agreement that we will make the best of this. Now I’m dragging her into potential violence because I have to prove something, to my family, and maybe to myself.
She swings into the saddle with practiced grace, settling into position. Despite everything, I feel a surge of pride. My wife can ride. Can handle herself in situations that would send most women running.
“Mount up!” Dad’s voice carries across the barn. “We ride in five minutes. Check your weapons, check your tack, and remember, we’re taking back what’s ours. The Marshalls made their choice when they stole our animals. Now they deal with the consequences.”
A chorus of affirmations rises from the assembled men. Twenty-three riders in total, all armed, all ready to follow us into potential violence because that’s what you do when you work for this family.
I swing onto Cisco, feeling the familiar weight of the rifle in its scabbard, the pistol at my hip. Weapons I learned to use as a boy that I’ve barely touched in the decade since leaving for California. It’s much easier to wield paper, photographs and uttered threats.
But the muscle memory is still there. The comfort of having firepower. The dark satisfaction that comes with being the one with the most guns and the most men when conflict arises.
We ride out in formation. Nathaniel, who has given up playing it safe, takes his group off to the east, Dad’s heading west, my group of eight men plus Lennox heading straight south toward the Marshall boundary.
The sun has dipped below the horizon, painting the Texas sky in violent reds and oranges, and the symbolism isn’t lost on me.
Blood and fire. That’s what this night might become.
Beside me, Lennox rides in silence, her face unreadable in the failing light. I want to say something, explain, justify, apologize. But there aren’t any words that could make this better.