Chapter Twenty-Six
The room was warm. Almost too warm. The fire had kept it nice and toasty, and it wasn’t exactly cold outside, either.
But June and the girls had decided to build a fire.
It was something to do. Something to keep their minds off the fact that their husbands were hiding something.
It seemed pretty darn clear that they were going to fight their battles for them and wanted them to stay behind to keep them safe.
Even Ada, who had cracked the joke earlier about knights in shining armor, was visibly worried about her husband.
She loved Jack. It was obvious, no matter what she said.
And it was clear to June by the fact she kept chewing at her nails and biting her lips nervously that she was afraid.
Afraid she’d lose him—and possibly afraid that Trey would come for them anyway.
June stared blankly into the fire, tired of looking at her friends, because every time she did, she thought of the men. The two of them were talking to each other in hushed voices, but she wasn’t listening. She could only hear murmurs of their voices behind her.
She just watched the flames dance as they rose over the logs of wood, breathing heavily because of how stifling it was getting inside.
No matter how much she tried to get her mind off it, though, she felt it come back.
The guilt.
It was her fault. All of this.
If she hadn’t made the deal with Trey in the first place; if she hadn’t made another deal to save her friends; and if she hadn’t sent that letter, none of this would have happened.
At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
She’d always believed that she was making the right decisions, but they had all been brought on by acts of desperation.
The few days before Asher Burns had arrived had been the only time she hadn’t felt desperate, now that she was thinking about it.
She might not have had the best intentions, and she’d been thinking about appeasing Trey the entire time…
but it was almost like she had forgotten that part. For a moment.
And now that she had begun this life, wanted things in it that she knew all along she shouldn’t have, she wanted to keep it.
Trey had always been a specter in the back of her mind.
He was like a shadow looming over her always, through every decision.
For years. She wanted to kick herself. She’d thought a letter might appease him, might convince him that she’d be back in time—and that would have worked if her friends hadn’t fallen in love with life in Fort Davis. If she hadn’t fallen in love…
But then again—would it have worked either way?
Trey wasn’t the kind of man to be appeased. He thrived on control. He had to know he had the power. He wanted people to dance like he controlled their strings.
She finally looked away from the fire, over to Etta, who was laughing at something Ada had said.
She wished she would have been listening. Maybe it would have made her laugh, too. Maybe she would have forgotten about Trey for a minute.
She clenched her fists in her lap, the rough fabric of her dress bunching under her fingers. She had to make this right. If anything happened to those two girls, or Seth, she’d never forgive herself.
Seth.
The thought of him did something to her insides. She was on fire—even more than the real fire in the hearth. She felt emotion stir in her throat, as though she would cry any second, overwhelmed by whatever she was feeling for him.
He’d ridden off that morning with Jack and Henry. He was determined. Stubborn. Reckless.
He had barely looked at her before he left, as if avoiding her would somehow make what he was doing less dangerous. Or make the consequences of something happening to him any less tragic.
She wasn’t na?ve, though. She knew a man like Seth was capable of a lot, especially when pushed. He was a cowboy.
She had a sinking feeling though that he would feel pushed, but she didn’t want an altercation to happen at all.
She stood abruptly from her chair, drawing the attention of both of her friends.
“You alright?” Ada asked.
“Fine,” June responded quickly, forcing a smile. “Just need some air.”
That’s a lie.
Ada didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press.
Quickly, June stepped outside. The ranch seemed even bigger today than usual. The fields went on for miles, which was normally lovely… but now it just meant more distance between her and Seth, and she had no idea what was going on in town.
She was shut off from everything.
The ranch appeared peaceful. But it was anything but, considering the internal battle raging within her.
She clutched her fists tight. She wasn’t going to sit idly by.
Her resolve hardened. This is it.
And this time, it would mean something.
She bolted off the porch and ran out to the corral, where the horses were being kept until Seth could rebuild a barn. Quietly, she led Suzanna out of the corral and grabbed the tack he’d left beneath the shelter of the front porch roof.
She was slow, gentle with her movements. She couldn’t risk the other two hearing her. They would try to stop her. She couldn’t have that.
She needed to make this right.
She couldn’t let the men find Trey Bishop and get into some quarrel as they gathered up whatever information they thought they needed. She couldn’t let them fight her battles without her.
Her breath came in shallow bursts as soon as she mounted Suzanna and rode off north. She didn’t have a plan—not really. She just knew she needed to see Trey, to plead with him to leave them alone. All of them.
But as soon as she got to the edge of the ranch, she spotted a figure on horseback, standing there, staring right at her. She pulled Suzanna to a halt in her tracks.
Trey Bishop.
It was almost as if he’d been expecting her. He sat patiently on his black mare, hat tilted just enough to cast a shadow over his face, but she still saw his lips tug into a wicked smile.
“June,” he drawled.
Her stomach churned, but she forced herself to keep steady atop Suzanna until there were only a few feet between them. “I’m here to ask you to leave us alone,” she announced.
He chuckled, a low, mocking sound. “Ask? That’s rich. You don’t ask for things, June. Not anymore. You beg.”
Her hands clenched the reins tightly, but she kept her voice steady, as difficult as it was. “Please. You don’t need to do this. I’ll do whatever you want, just... leave them out of it.”
Trey urged his mare forward a couple of steps. “Whatever I want, huh? That’s quite the offer.”
June swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. “I mean it. Just leave them alone. This is between you and me.”
He laughed again, the sound sending a chill down her spine. “You don’t get it, do you? This stopped being just about you a long time ago. You think you can walk away from me, start some little life out here, and I’ll just forget about you?”
“I didn’t mean to—”
“To what?” Trey cut her off, his tone sharper than before. “To make a fool of me? To spit on everything I gave you? You owe me. And I’m here to collect. Even if it’s all your lives.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” June said quickly, desperation creeping into her voice as she attempted to back Suzanna away.
Trey looked up enough that his hat tilted back and the rest of his face became visible. His eyes gleamed with hatred. “You think you can bargain with me? After everything you’ve done?”
Suzanna came to a snorting halt, and June glanced back to realize that she had backed her into a cluster of trees. Trey had caught her in a corner. She turned to face him, fear sending her heart into her throat.
Suddenly, he dug his heels into his mare’s sides, and the animal plunged forward until she was alongside Suzanna.
Then his hand shot out, grabbing June’s wrist in a heated, bruising grip. “You don’t get to call the shots, June,” he hissed, his face inches from hers as he leaned forward, so close she could smell the whiskey on his breath; the heat of his anger.
She struggled to fight away, panic rising up. “Trey, please—”
He struck her across the face and gave her a vicious shove—and she lost her balance, tumbling to the ground. Her head collided with the dirt in a sickening thud.
Anger bubbled, but pain radiated across her face. She was vaguely aware of Suzanna snorting in panic; Trey dismounting, walking toward her. He stood darkly over her, his shadow stretching over the ground beside her. There was something in his hands—a revolver.
“It’s time you learn your lesson!” he snapped.
June tried to move, to push herself up and get away from him, but her body wouldn’t cooperate.
The edges of her vision darkened, and the last thing she saw was Trey’s smug, triumphantly wicked grin as he gripped her neck to hold her still, lifted the revolver in his other hand, and brought the handle crashing down against her skull—and everything went black.