Chapter 37 Heston #2
Facing my mistakes doesn’t scare me. Believing I deserve to put them behind me and not let them hold me back any longer is the hard part.
An uncomfortable bubble of emotion rises in my throat, and only two words make their way out of my mouth. “Thank you.”
“You can thank me by taking care of my daughter. And yourself, while you’re at it.”
At the mention of taking care of Hattie, my jaw hardens. “Marcus showed up here today.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Nope.” I step down off the back porch and pace through the grass.
Little patches of green are starting to pop up among the sea of brown after the stretch of more frequent sunshine we’ve had lately.
That used to mean that spring was arriving, and that before long, we’d be weaning calves and shucking our coats by noon.
Now, it feels like it symbolizes more than just a change in the season or the routine of happenings on the ranch.
It’s a reminder that not even months of hard freezes can stop the regrowth.
The hope. “I tried to let Hattie have a few choice words with him, but Granger ended up socking him in the nose. He might have left with blood running down his chin.”
Rafe erupts into a loud, deeply amused laugh. “I wish I could have seen that. I’ve been itching to kick that guy’s ass for too damn long.”
“Why didn’t you? He seems like a real piece of shit based on what little Hattie has told me.”
“She got you up to date on all the wild stuff he’s been pulling?”
“Somewhat. I planned to ask you about it because I didn’t want to stress her out more than she already is.”
“Well, I had a feeling he was a bit of a snake last fall.” He sighs, and there’s a new element to his tone that sounds a lot like disdain.
“I couldn’t strong-arm the situation because I wanted to let Hattie make her own judgments this time.
I had some protections in place, though.
He can’t get to her anymore if you’re involved, I know that much.
And he definitely can’t get to the ranch like he wants. It’s all in a trust.”
“So, we’re good to get rid of him?” I ask.
“You gonna kill him?”
There isn’t even a hint of sarcasm in his voice, which makes me smirk.
I’m not sure what he knows about everything that went down around here when Blythe and Gage got together, but even if he only paid a slight bit of attention to the rumor mill, he’d know I’ve done a lot worse than throw a punch at a guy to protect someone I care about.
I had less to live for in those days, though.
Being reckless and extreme isn’t an option this time.
I have a whole life to live, and I’d rather not start it off with a few felonies brushed under the rug by Gage’s slimy but well-connected dad, if I can help it.
“Probably not.” I shrug. “Just didn’t want to piss him off too much and make him throw a tantrum that would cause bigger problems.”
“Well, he’s not worth the trouble, if you ask me.
Even if he’s pissed and decides to pull something to get back at me, there’s not much he could do anymore.
I shut down most of his access last week.
Tried to be quiet about it, but I’m guessing he realized his back is against the wall, and showing up today was his last-ditch effort. ”
“I need him gone,” I admit. “Hattie can handle anything, but she shouldn’t have to anymore. I think we’re finally in a good place, and I just want her to feel relaxed and happy again. This whole thing has been hell for her.”
“He’ll be out by the end of the week. I’d like to have something up my sleeve to hold against him in case he tries anything down the road before I cut him loose, though.
Know anybody who could come out and slip into his office to scrub his computer?
I’m not good with that shit. I don’t even know how to use the fucking smart TV Hattie got me for Christmas. ”
I think normal people would just call the cops. Something about that is far less satisfying, though. Given the chance, I’d rather crush the motherfucker into the ground instead of letting him dress up all fancy to talk his way out of it in a civilized courtroom.
Cons of watching too many westerns as a kid, I suppose.
“I don’t. But I guarantee Gage knows a guy. I’ll set it up.”
We could have tried to have a conversation like this, realized we were on the same team all along, and avoided the disaster of the last few years.
Since we didn’t, this new dynamic feels more hard-earned.
When Hattie realizes that we’ve managed to bury the hatchet, she might cry tears of joy, and that possibility brings a welcome sense of satisfaction to my chest.
At the reminder of her, I glance back at the bunkhouse again. “I’d better get off here. Getting late.”
“Don’t call me again unless it’s an emergency,” he grunts out. “I hate talking on the damn phone.”
“Same.”
“Alright then.”
I chuckle. “Alright.”
He hangs up, I drop the phone to my side, and let out the longest exhale of my life.