Chapter Twenty-Five
What a day. What a doggone day.
What a week, really. Cash leaned against the porch railing as the crickets’ incessant chorus assaulted his ears.
The dark sky was filled with big bright stars that shimmered like diamonds.
But he couldn’t appreciate them. Not tonight.
He was doing his best to get some peace and quiet, but the tension at the ranch was getting to him.
His body was battered and heavy with exhaustion, aching with every recollection of the day’s relentless work.
The entire week had been spent trying to keep their heads above water after all they’d lost, after all the damage that had been done.
All of that, added to everything he’d gone through with Josie… it had been too much.
The days had been filled with nothing but putting out fire after fire, and today had ended with one last fire he couldn’t put out, the argument that left him feeling like the entire weight of the world rested on his shoulders.
He didn’t know what that argument had left behind: fear, anger, resentment… it all seemed to compound into one big, gnarled knot emotion he didn’t know how to handle.
A couple of the ranch hands had ridden into town to tell Sheriff Carter about the harassment from Remington, as well as the damage done to the ranch recently. They had come back with worse news than they’d brought. A handful of nasty rumors—about the Montgomerys.
Remington had been spreading news around that the ranch was failing, not worth doing business with.
It seemed that he’d even tried other even less savory techniques.
Apparently, he’d gone as far as threatening folks.
Even cattle buyers were feeling some pressure—which had explained why a few promising deals had gone sour over the last handful of days.
Cash had just assumed that it was just getting to be tougher times with more people venturing out west. Less demand for things with more farms and ranches picking up around. But no, it was Remington.
Making an already tough year even tougher. He was poisoning the Montgomery Ranch reputation, trying to ensure that the rumors weren’t rumors at all—that the ranch would become a thing of the past.
Cash scowled, walked over to his rocking chair, and snatched up his pipe. He lit it up before taking a few calming puffs.
I can’t let the Montgomery name be tarnished like that.
Pa had built this place from the ground up. They weren’t going to let anyone take it away that easily. And at the very least, they’d go down swinging. Cash had too much pride to do anything otherwise.
Grinding his teeth, he sat down in the rocking chair and fumbled to grab his knife and a half-carved handle from his pocket. He gripped his pipe between his teeth, puffing small breaths as he began whittling away at the piece of wood, shaping it further.
It would be a handle for a small hunting knife.
Something he thought might make a good keepsake for Samuel, when the boy was old enough to carry it.
Perhaps he’d get use out of it, just like Cash had with his own knife.
He’d been carrying the handle everywhere in the past few days, whittling when he could, trying to calm himself down by focusing on the task.
And he thought of Pa every time he pulled it from his pocket. He’d hoped Samuel would do the same, when he was old enough.
But tonight, even that wasn’t distraction enough from his unhappy thoughts.
He sighed deeply, coughing a little on the extra pipe smoke flooding into his lungs as his argument with Josie came back to him, harsh and stinging.
I was too hard on her. It’s not her fault.
He growled, anger turning against himself—anger he’d been avoiding for days. Not any longer.
Regardless of what Remington wanted or how far he pushed, it wasn’t Josie’s fault. Cash’s little outburst was nothing more than fear—fear for her, fear for the ranch, fear for all their livelihoods. And he was angry that he’d let fear get the better of him.
They had all survived bigger and worse things than Grayson Remington before now.
Droughts and frost; financial storms that had left even Pa teetering.
They had faced down practically every possible calamity that could befall a ranch.
Even some truly dangerous circumstances.
This might have been a little different, since the danger was another man, a powerful man—but Remington was only a man.
He couldn’t be the thing that ended them.
Grayson Remington was a slow rot, like the weak spot beneath the curved leg of the rocking chair. He was weakening the ranch. Cash still believed that they’d be able to build it back. He just prayed it would happen before everything crumbled under his feet.
The sudden creak of the front door swinging wide, slamming hard, told him that someone else was joining him on the porch.
Not dawdling, but coming out with a purpose.
He knew it was Beau without even turning to look over his shoulder.
The scent of bay rum gave Beau away—he always used it after shaving.
All the ranch hands were still inside finishing supper, but Cash wasn’t hungry. At least, that was what he’d told everyone else.
The truth was that he didn’t want to see Josie. Not yet. Not while he was still on edge. That hadn’t worked out well earlier, and he didn’t want a second round of their bitter argument.
“We gotta talk about what we’re gonna do,” Beau croaked as he stepped into the muted glow of the burning lamp on the porch.
Cash cocked his head just enough to get a short glimpse of his brother’s face. The faint light showed his freshly shaven face. It was mired in weariness. Fatigue had etched itself in every line of his face.
Cash hated seeing that. It had to be serious if Beau looked that worried.
“We’re bleeding out,” Beau said finally, his voice low and hoarse.
“If we keep taking hits like today, there won’t be a ranch left to fight for.
We lost a lot of livestock. More than we can compensate for.
Not to mention the supplies we’ve had to use for repairs that we can’t afford to restock anymore. ”
He’s waiting on my word.
Cash couldn’t meet Beau’s gaze. He could feel it plastered on him. Burning him. But he wasn’t going to look at Beau. Not now. He couldn’t look at his older brother and see fear. It would do him no good.
Instead, he grumbled past his pipe, “We’re not done yet,” in a sort of stubborn declaration. His pride was overshadowing any sign of fear. He couldn’t give in to fear now.
“Maybe not,” Beau admitted, but his voice betrayed him.
He sounded less sure than he ever had before.
“But we have to face facts. We can’t keep pretending that everything will just fix itself and that luck is on our side.
We need a plan, Cash. I told you that before.
I told you we didn’t have much time. We’ve run out of time. ”
Cash’s jaw tightened. The way Beau said that made it sound like he already had his own plan in mind, but was hesitant to say it. Cash’s muscles knotted with anticipation, and he crossed his arms over his chest, holding his whittling knife firmly in his hand. “Spit it out,” he demanded.
Taking a measured breath, Beau spoke slowly and clearly. “Remington wants this ranch, and he wants more than that from the sound of things. And he ain’t gonna stop ‘til he gets it all.”
A sharp knife poked and prodded at Cash’s gut. Anger began to pool inside him like blood. In a burst of rage, he slammed his blade point-down into the arm of his chair and pulled the smoking pipe out of his mouth with a snarl.
“Blast it!” Every muscle in his body was taut as he turned and fixed a hard gaze on his brother. “I know what he wants—and I know exactly what you’re about to say. Don’t. I’m warning you.”
Beau stared Cash square in the face. “I don’t want to give her up any more than you do.
I like her, and I like the boy. You think I don’t?
” He ran a hand over his face. “But I like this ranch, and I like my brothers a whole lot more. If we lose it, we lose everything all of us have always worked for.”
He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “What I’m suggestin’ is that we try to cut some kind of deal.”
Cash’s breath came in heavy, labored bursts of anger. This was betrayal. “You’re soundin’ awfully yellow-bellied,” he hissed. “Cowardice don’t look good on a Montgomery.”
Beau’s eyes widened, and surprise crossed his face—the words seemed to cut him deep. But a moment later, his anger reappeared, and he spat back, “You know I’m right. I know you care for this woman, but she ain’t worth this whole ranch.”
“She’s my wife!” Cash burst out.
Dead silence followed.
He realized he was shaking. He hadn’t expected that to come out. But his body was ready—ready to come to blows over her, with anyone. Even his brother.
Beau was staring at him, stunned.
“There ain’t no way I’m handing her over,” Cash said, more quietly.
From the doorway, Luke’s firm voice cut through the oppressive silence, causing both to look over at him. “There’s no way any of us are handing her over,” he said in a resolute agreement.
There was an unyielding flash in his eyes that Cash caught even in the darkness.
“I’d kill for Josie and her boy,” Luke added. “None of us would give each other up for some land. We ain’t giving her up for anything, either. She’s Cash’s wife, and our sister now. That makes her family, and there ain’t nothin’ worth more than family.”
“Luke—” Beau began, but Luke shook his head, coming out to stand there with his arms crossed.
He looked stoic, unyielding. “And that’s not who we are, Beau. Do you think Ma and Pa would have ever made a deal like that?”
Beau exhaled sharply. “Well, they aren’t here, are they?”
Cash’s fists curled, anger twisting in his gut. “We ain’t selling out my wife. Not to Remington. Not to anyone.”
Beau whirled on him, face scrunched in fury. “I never even said that we would see her out to anyone! I just said it may be worth a deal!”