Chapter 39
Crew, Ford, and I all file into Dot’s kitchen, one by one, and almost twenty-four hours after leaving Maggie in Levi’s hands.
We worked through the night, refinishing the greenhouse and driving to every greenery in the county to find grown wildflowers to fill it with, and when those eventually die, she has about a hundred new packets of seeds to pick from.
For once, Ford kept quiet. No shitty remarks about why I was doing this, or what I was planning for Maggie. Just stiff nods with every request or idea I had.
The smell of simmering vegetables and chicken fills our noses, and I’m pretty sure Crew’s shoulders slump over with a groan. Dot glances up from her book, raising a brow at the three of us as Ford sits next to her at the island. “Where have you three been?”
Crew snatches one of the plated sandwiches off the counter and leans against the sink, turning his eyes on me. “Ask Walker.”
“Where is Maggie?” I ask.
“Upstairs,” Dot says, closing her book and leaning back in the stool. “You didn’t answer my question, Bode Walker.”
“Walker here was writing himself into one of those romance novels you like so much, Dottie,” Ford grumbles and snatches his own sandwich, tapping his knuckle on her book on his way back.
“And he convinced you to help?” she asks, skepticism dripping from her voice as she looks between the two of us. Confused by the lack of tension between us.
“It’s for Maggie,” Ford shrugs.
“I’m actually surprised I didn’t have to beg,” I mumble, moving around the counter to kiss her temple. “All good things, Dot, I cross my heart.”
“Good, because that girl has been throwing up everything for the last day, so anything bad will force me to do unspeakable things to the three of you,” she says, looking up at me over the edge of her glasses.
A frown etches over my face at her words. “She’s sick?”
She nods and points over to the pot on the stove. “I was waiting for the soup to get done before I took her something to eat, but since you’re here…”
“I’ll do it,” I say, already halfway around the counter. “She’s just throwing up?”
“I think it’s the stress.” Dot sighs. “I had to threaten that lawyer again to leave her alone.” Ford chuckles. “Maybe you should be dealin’ with the ranch lawyers then.”
Dot waves her hand and shakes her head. “I ain’t got the courage to deal with two grimy sharks.”
Crew, Ford, and I all glance at each other. She has never spoken openly about what’s going on with the ranch, and hell, half the time neither does Ford, but even I catch the softened look in his eye when he turns his attention back to her. “We’re going to get it figured out,” he promises.
I reach up for a bowl and begin scooping the chicken noodle soup into it. Making sure to get more broth than anything else. Part of me feels bad that I left her here while she was like this, but I know what I did was worth Dot taking care of her for the night.
“Those new boys you got workin’ down at the barn have been workin’ hard keepin' up with all the work around here. Peter’s been leadin’ really good, with Levi’s help.” She laughs softly.
The three of them start chatting about hiring the temps on full-time, Ford arguing against it more so than anything, but I stopped listening.
I want to see Magnolia, even if she's sick and even if it’s just to make sure she’s eaten.
I carefully carry the bowl of soup up the stairs and knock gently on the door.
“Maggie?”
A soft groan floats through the wood and makes my stomach flip as I push open the door and see her curled up on her side. “Baby,” I murmur and set the bowl onto the nightstand before kneeling next to the bed, pushing her hair out of her face. “What happened?”
“My stomach turned into a traitor.” She frowns, her voice raspy and cheeks flushed as her green eyes find me.
“I’m sorry, Wildflower,” I say, resting my hand on her cheek. She looks exhausted, and all I want to do is crawl into bed next to her, but I know she needs to eat. “I brought you some soup. Dot’s cure-all.” I hope the smile I give her is enough to get her to at least sit up.
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” she whines softly, but in her protest, I can see her eyes lingering on the soup, and make the decision for her.
“C’mon, darlin’, sit up a bit for me.” I smile and grab the extra pillow on the other side of her to set behind her back as she slowly pushes herself up. “That’s my girl.” I grin softly as she looks up at me with a frown.
“Do not flirt with me when I have pukey breath, Bode Walker.”
“Puky breath or not, Magnolia Mae, you’re still my girl,” I say and sit across from her. “Now eat before I call Dot up here and she force-feeds you.”
“You’re as bad as my stomach.” She curses softly and takes the bowl from the nightstand and takes a spoonful to her mouth.
“Maybe, but you’re eating.” I smile at her as she rolls her eyes and continues to eat.
The sun has just begun to set when I start to hear hollering outside, down near the barn. It’s the closest building to the main house, and while some yelling is normal, it’s only when I hear Crew bark orders that gets me untangling from Maggie’s sleeping form to look out the window.
“What the fuck?” I rasp seeing Ford out in the field, knelt next to a heifer on her side. My eyes track further out and see at least two more lying still in the mud. Maggie stirs behind me, her voice soft.
“Bode?”
“I gotta get down to the barn,” I say softly, turning back to her, climbing over to her side of the bed to press a kiss to her forehead. “Stay here and sleep.”
“What’s wrong?” She asks as I start pulling my jeans and boots back on.
“I don’t know. Please,” my voice drops down slightly, “just stay here, okay?”
I can’t let her see dead cattle, not now.
“Okay…” she whispers, her brows furrowed in confusion, but she doesn’t push and instead settles back within the blankets.
By the time I get down to the barn, it’s full chaos. Crew is interrogating Peter with an anger in his voice I haven’t heard in years, and Ford is currently putting the fear of God into the temps on the other end of the barn.
“I don’t know what happened!” Peter booms, his arms thrown out wide. “They were fine this morning!”
“What the hell is going on?” I bark, catching Crew’s attention.
“Dead cattle, that’s what’s going on,” he snaps.
“What the fuck happened?”
“Alfalfa, a whole fuck-ton of it littered in the hay and rotten,” Ford yells down the breezeway. “These idiots took in a truck full of it yesterday while we were gone.”
“We didn’t know!” the scrawnier temp yells back, “We thought it was a normal delivery.”
Peter nods as he looks down at the other men. “I thought it was weird, but shit hasn’t been exactly normal around here lately, so a new order of hay on an off day didn’t seem so far out of fucking wack.”
“You’re a goddamn ranch hand, Peter!” Crew barks again, making Peter wince. “That shit smells like rot, and it ain’t even green. You fucking know better!”
“I’m sorry! I figured those two could handle unloading it, I didn’t think–”
“You didn’t think! That’s the problem,” Ford barks.
“How far back in the pastures did you get before you ran out of it?” I ask, stepping between Crew and Peter because the vein popping in Crew’s neck tells me he’s a half-step away from putting hands on Peter, and even I know the kid doesn’t deserve it.
Peter shrugs and looks back at the two temp ranch hands. “How far?”
“Only up to pasture four.”
“Any of the horses?” I ask, and they all shake their heads.
“Where’s the delivery slip?” I look ask, looking at Peter, who points to the clipboard that hangs next to the storage room.
“Alright, take those two and go start removing the hay from the feed barrels. One of you move the herd to pasture five and burn the bad shit.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Ford asks.
“Making shit right while you two are losing your fucking heads,” I snap at him. “Unless you have a better idea?”
Ford’s dark gaze lingers on me for a minute before he juts his chin out. “Go, before I fire all of you,” he snaps. “And wash out those barrels!” he yells as the three of them scramble out of the barn to their horses.
Crew moves around me to the clipboard and curses under his breath.
“What?” Ford asks as he marches towards us.
“Those fucking idiots,” Crew snaps and holds up the delivery slip. “The shipping address is out of Missoula.”
“Okay and?” I ask, almost confused.
“Twelve Acres has land out there,” Ford says from behind me, his voice low and sharp all at the same time. “Those fuckers.”
“How do you know that?” I ask, looking back at him.
“Because Wyatt tried to buy it last year, tried taking Dot’s money for it,” he says between clenched teeth. “I did my research before she signed anything.”
“You think...”
“He’s fucking part of this.”
The thought sends a chill up my spine. That Dot’s own son would be so fucking greedy to try to hurt her well-being. “This is just the beginning, isn’t it?” I finally ask as Ford shoves past both Crew and me. “Where are you going?”
“To figure out a way to fucking end it,” he bites as we follow him out.
“Jesus,” I huff and glance past Crew. My eyes narrow slightly before my stomach drops, and I book it over to the pen we built. “Crew!”
I hear him take off behind me, and I hop the fence, nearly missing Wanda’s lethargic body lying sideways on the ground. “Wanda, girl.” I kneel next to her and glance into her stall. “Fuck.” Her breathing is ragged, uneven, and I can tell her bloat is already getting bad.
“It’s lined with the fucking shit.” Crew hisses.
“Help me move her into the barn,” I say, my voice panicked because dead cattle is one thing. Wanda, on her deathbed, is another and something I won’t let Maggie go through, not again.