Chapter 44 Bode
“So, what’s the plan?” Crew huffs, leaning over the bed of the truck, staring at the two men we grabbed. I look at Ford, and by the way he’s ignoring Crew’s question, I can tell neither of us thought this far ahead. “We can dump’ em,” Crew suggests, “leave’m out past the last pasture.”
“No.” Ford finally speaks up, “I wanna know why.”
“Ford,” I argue, stepping towards him, “these two may not even know why the hell twelve acres is doing this–”
Ford spins on me so fast, I stumble back a step as he grabs the collar of my jacket. “I don’t give a shit,” he spits. For the first time in a while, he looks me in the eye, and I see something other than hatred. “I will not let Dot lose this place. To anyone.”
“I ain’t the enemy, Ford.” I raise my hands, not making any move to grab him or shove him off like I usually would. “We all want the same thing.” The tension between us flickers, as if someone is trying to light a spark, but Ford lets me go with a stiff nod.
“Take’m up to the hunting shed,” he finally says after a moment. I glance over at Crew, his eyes are trained on Ford, but the moment they move to me, I see it. We both know this isn’t the end of anything, this is the start of Ford’s rampage on whoever is threatening his home, our home.
“What are you going to do?” Crew asks as he rounds the rear of the truck towards the driver’s side.
Ford takes a few steps back. “I’ll wait for the others. Dylan may have been right about the fences and trucks, but this?” His chin jerks to the two unconscious men. “She’ll either want her licks in or be too much of a hazard to keep around.”
He steps back to let Crew open the door. “I want to know how loyal she is to this place.”
Crew and I both understand what he means.
If she tries to stop us or tells anyone about what's going on, she’s gone.
In a way that I don't have the stomach to think about, but an enemy is an enemy, and as much as I want to believe Dylan has the heart we need, it’s not lost on me that there are few people we can trust anymore.
“We’ll meet you up there,” I say, and move to the passenger side and climb in.
Thankfully, the road up to the shed was still hard from the frost. Muddy in places that the sun catches through thick pine branches, but overall, it's easy enough to get the truck up past where we’ve been able to place gravel.
Crew grabs two of the gambrels that are stored here during the fall hunting season. Hanger-like hooks that hold deer by their legs upside down for processing. Both men are still out, at least for now, but long enough that he easily ties both men’s ankles to the gambrels.
“How the hell are we going to get them hung up?” I ask moving back when Crew climbs out of the back of the truck.
“Same way we did the Elk last year,” he says, hoisting one of the men over his shoulder. “Grab that one.”
With a sigh, I grab the other man, throwing him over my shoulder, and help Crew string both of them up by the rafter in the shed. By the time we get them both situated, the door pushes open with Levi, Peter, Dylan, and Ford piling into the small space.
“Everything go okay?” I ask, moving to Levi, quickly inspecting him for any injuries, just in case. He shrugs me off and shoots a glare towards Dylan.
“We’re fine. Lucky over here,” he tilts his chin towards her, “almost got us caught, but it was worth it. We got almost a hundred cattle, all unbranded.”
“Good,” I breathe out in relief. If he had gotten hurt, I would never forgive myself for letting him be a part of this. Levi is… good. His heart is warmer than the rest of ours in ways none of us will ever compare to.
Dylan flips a bucket over, sits down, and tilts her head. “Congrats, boys,” she breathes, looking up at Ford. “You got the two most useless ones.”
“Useless how?” Ford rumbles, taking off his jacket as he starts rolling up his sleeves. His dark eyes narrow in on her. “They’re hands aren’t they?”
Dylan nods. “They are, but they’re more… do what you’re told and don’t ask questions, hands.”
“Still worth the ask.” Crew points to the bucket she’s sitting on.
“Need that.” With a huff, Dylan stands and hands him the bucket.
Levi crouches down next to the door, bringing his hands to his mouth to warm them as Peter makes himself small in the corner.
I settle myself against the door and watch Ford and Crew work.
The bloody side of what we do was never my forte.
I hate the ache in my knuckles after a punch, and those two seem to revel in it.
It’s not very often that we have to use this shed for anything more than game. Crew fills the bucket up with water from a reservoir we keep out here to clean our kills after hunts, but it’s not connected to anything but a well beneath the shed, and that water has to be freezing.
He moves around the two men hanging upside down, holding the bucket in his hands as he glances at Ford. “Ready?”
Ford gives the nod, and both men are doused in freezing water that has them both gasping for air in moments, waking up from dazed states. Ford crouches down in front of them and grins. “Mornin’ boys.” His voice grates through the chill.
“What the fuck!” one of them yells. He swings his body, bumping into the other man as he struggles.
“What the fuck is this!” He’s younger than the man silently taking in the room as the realization of his predicament sets in.
The younger one thrashes again as Ford tilts his head like a wolf, deciphering its prey’s actions.
“Traitorous bitch,” the older man spits towards Dylan.
“We shoulda finished what Gerald started,” he bites, which to any other woman might have been a threat, but his teeth are chattering from the ice-water bath, and Dylan just grins at him in a way that makes me uncomfortable.
I recognize that smile, it’s dangerous. Reckless, even and one that comes from someone with nothing to lose.
“Aww, Burt, I always hated you the most.” She smirks.
“Enough,” Ford barks between them. “Why are Twelve Acres attacking my home?” he growls, grabbing the younger one by his collar.
“We don’t know a damn thing, and even if we did, we ain’t tellin’ you fuckers shit.”
A resounding crack sounds through the shed, and the younger one groans out in pain, swinging back and forth as blood trickles down his upside-down face and his nose splits in two. Ford flexes his hand before looking at the older one. “How about you?”
“Fuck you,” Burt spits.
Dylan steps forward, taking her chance for a blow as her boot lands in the middle of his chest. The air in his lungs expels from his lips in a horrific gasp. “Talk, you idiot.” she snaps at him as his body swings uncomfortably, and he tries to catch his breath.
Ford glances over his shoulder at Crew and me before looking up to Dylan. “Feel better?”
She glances down at him, her bottom lip looks worse in the dim light here. The bruise has started to deepen into a dark purple, matching her opposite cheek. “No.”
“They’re just gonna keep swingin’,” I sigh, looking between the two men. “Unless you start spilling everything you know. Why the ranch?”
The younger one blinks almost wildly up at me, trying to avoid getting blood in his eyes as it drips from his forehead into a puddle on the ground below him. “We don’t know. We were just following ord–”
“Shut the fuck up, Nate,” Burt gasps out, his eyes flicking between all of us like a rabid dog trying to figure out a way out of a corner.
“Alright,” Ford breathes out, standing as Crew grabs a long metal rod with a hook at the end of it, testing the weight in his hand before circling behind the two men. “Since you two don’t feel like sharing with the class, we’ve got some frustration to let out.”
He smiles, but it’s wicked and more twisted than I’ve ever seen as he steps back.
Peter’s eyes go wide as Crew swings back with the hook pointed away from the men and throws his weight forward, the rod landing straight in the middle of Burt’s ribs.
The man lets out a whine that sends a chill up my spine, and for a second, I swear I hear Peter mumble under his breath that he’s going to be sick.
I look down at Levi, who’s been mostly quiet, watching, taking in the darker side of what it means to protect Whiskey River. “You two can go back to the bunkhouse,” I offer, low enough that they hear me, but Ford, who’s focused on using the younger one like his own personal punching bag, doesn’t.
Levi looks up at me and then to Peter before he shakes his head. “We protect our own, together.”
I catch Peter’s shoulders deflating with Levi’s defiance as he sinks further into the corner, staring at the ground.
He’s a good kid, but he knows too much and even now, even when he’d rather be anywhere else, he’s sticking around.
I realize that this is the closest we’ve all been in months.
For once, we aren’t butting heads with each other or constantly ending arguments in fistfights.
No… When it comes to Dot, to the ranch, everything gets put aside.
Every difference, every ill feeling, because without Whiskey River, none of us would be here today.
Blow after blow is traded back and forth between Ford, Crew, and occasionally Dylan. The puddles of blood below each man grow and seep out onto the concrete floor, barely missing Ford and Dylan’s boots, and what were yelps and groans of pain before have turned into rough grunts and ragged gasps.
“Okay,” Nate rasps out, setting every movement to a pause as Ford kneels back down.
“Okay, what?” he bites out.
“Just stop,” Nate breathes, swallowing back the blood in his mouth. “Please, just stop…”
“Speak kid,” Crew jams the rounded edge of the hook in his side, not piercing but threatening enough that the man squirms to get away from it.
“I don’t know why–Gerald is doing this…” he sputters. “All I know…”
“Kid,” Burt warns raggedly but Dylan quickly throws her fist down, hitting him square in the jaw.
“Jesus,” the younger one whines and looks at Ford as much as he can between two swelling eyes. “I just know… he got a call from someone, offering a lot of money to fuck with Whiskey River.”
“Who from?” Crew grinds out, shoving the metal further into his side.
“Some guy, goes by the name Wylie,” he chokes out, strangled. “We’ve never met him–but I saw the name come up on Gerry’s phone.”
“All those late nights…” Dylan says, narrowing her eyes down at Nate. “You always disappeared after supper.”
The color drains from Nate’s face as she starts putting puzzle pieces together, but it’s not him I’m worried about. Thunder takes over Ford’s expression as he stands and steps back. “Wylie,” he growls.
“You know him?” I ask, pushing off the door and watch as Ford’s eyes start flickering back and forth like he’s remembering something.
“That fucking little shit,” he finally spits, looking up at Crew and then at me. “Wylie. Wylie is what I called Wyatt.”
“Dot’s kid?” Levi asks, looking up at the three of us.
“My half-brother,” Ford says through a clenched jaw. His shoulders pin back as he looks down at the two men. “Everyone out.”
Crew and I share a knowing look. He sets the hook down and moves around to Dylan and Peter, herding them both towards the door as I tug on Levi’s jacket, getting him up off the ground, and we all step outside into the chill.
“What’s he going to do?” Levi asks, and I don’t let him turn around when he tries, instead I push him towards the truck as I glance back to shut the door, watching as Ford reaches for the pistol he had holstered behind his back.
We knew how this was going to end tonight, at least…
with the men dangling in the shed. But Dot’s own son?
I knew that Wyatt and Ford had never gotten along.
Two sides of very different coins. Wyatt thrives on money, the promise of money, and conniving his way into getting it.
Ford just wants a home. He wants to belong, just like the rest of us.
I shut the door and meet up with the rest of them as they gather around the trucks.
“Listen up,” I say, more so to Levi, Dylan, and Peter.
“Anything that happens on this ranch–” The sound of two gunshots echoes behind me, cutting off my warning.
“Stays on the ranch,” I say after a moment, letting the reality of our situation sink in to all three of them and make eye contact with Levi.
He holds me there, shoulders stiff and jaw clenching, but he nods. Within a whisper of a breath, Levi cements his place here. Not just as my brother, or the occasional drop by during circuit breaks, but as one of us. Pride tangles with regret in my stomach as I force myself to give him a nod back.
Heavy tension fills the cold air between all of us when we hear Ford leave the shed.
His boots crunch on the frozen ground behind me.
He doesn’t say anything as he passes, his jacket is back on his body, and his hat tucked over his brow.
He also doesn’t stop. We’re a good half hour from the ranch on foot, and neither Crew or I stop him.
Crew nods towards the other truck and looks at my brother. “Back to the bunkhouse.”
Levi looks at me, and I don’t have anything comforting to offer him. “Go, we’ll be back in a bit.”
Crew and I watch as the three of them pile into the truck, and it disappears back to the ranch before either of us chooses to say anything.
“This just went from bad to a whole hell of a lot worse,” Crew mutters, flexing his fists. I catch the split knuckles and the swollen muscle around his fingers. Logan won’t question the state of his hands, but I know he is.
“We have to figure out how far we’re willing to take this,” I say, stupidly. Crew shoots me a look before looking back at the shed.
“I think we just figured it out,” he says, turning towards it with a sigh. “Let’s get this shit cleaned up so we can get back to our girls.”
I look up at him with a nod and will myself to grab the shovels from the back of the truck. The promise of climbing into bed with Magnolia at the end of tonight is the only thing that helps distract from the fact that these two aren’t the only bodies we’re going to be burying for a while.