Chapter 14 #2
“Hey, Seth,” I say, my voice softer as I greet the third brother.
Seth is standing by a long picnic table laden with food and drinks. He gives me a small, genuine smile. “Thanks for coming, Sedona. Really.”
“Everything smells so good,” I say, my stomach rumbling in response.
He gestures to the tables and chairs they’ve set up, a surprisingly cozy arrangement under the sprawling branches of an old oak tree.
“Have a seat. I made some sliders to start. Hope you’re hungry.”
Tex appears with three beers, expertly popping the caps off with the edge of the counter and handing them to us. We sit, the easy conversation flowing around us like a current.
We talk about the unseasonably warm weather, about Clara’s life in New York, about how she actually lived in Prairie Pine for a year when she was younger.
“These sliders are so good,” Clara says, her eyes wide with culinary delight after her first bite. “Honestly, I could marry the chef.”
The words hang in the air, and the easy conversation comes to a screeching halt. Clara’s eyes widen as she realizes what she’s said, her gaze darting to me.
“Oh, Sedona, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking…”
I shake my head, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “It’s all okay, Clara. Really.”
Seth, bless his heart, jumps in to save the day.
“Well, luckily for you, I’m single if you’re serious.” He winks, and the tension breaks, everyone letting out a relieved chuckle.
Tex sips his beer, his gaze fixed on the grill, but I see the way his jaw tightens, just for a second.
The conversation shifts then, turning to the practical matter of the cattle.
I explain what the process of sample collection will look like, what I’ll need from them. Seth listens intently, nodding, already plating thick, juicy steaks and roasted potatoes that smell like heaven.
Mid-conversation, Billy walks back over, dragging a simple wooden chair in one hand. Jasper trails behind him like a shadow, looking uncomfortable.
“Glad you could join us,” Seth says, his voice carefully neutral.
Billy just grunts in response, setting his chair down a little ways from the table. The three brothers share a look, a silent, complicated exchange of glances that I can’t even begin to decipher.
“Was hungry,” Billy says by way of explanation, his gaze landing on the plate Seth is holding out to him.
I’m hyperaware of him as I continue to explain the sampling procedure, my voice feeling thin and reedy.
We eat, the food delicious but tasting like ash in my mouth. Billy is quiet, a dark, brooding presence at the edge of our little gathering.
He eats quickly, efficiently, his eyes never quite meeting mine. After he’s finished, he stands, pushing his chair back with a scrape.
“I’m gonna go check on my horses,” he says, and then he’s gone, disappearing into the growing darkness.
I think about making an excuse to go talk to him, to try again, to break through that wall of ice he’s built around himself. But I can’t. I’m physically unable to stand, my limbs feeling heavy and useless.
I hate how angry he is, even after all these years. A stupid, naive part of me had thought that time would soften him, that maybe he would understand my reasons, or at least hate me less by now.
But he doesn’t. And that knowledge is a crushing thing.
The silence Billy leaves behind is a void that sucks all the warmth and air out of the space. The cheerful crackle of the fire in the pit suddenly sounds lonely, the earlier camaraderie evaporating like mist in the morning sun.
Tex pokes at the logs with a stick, his movements sharp and agitated, while Seth quietly starts gathering empty plates, the clatter of ceramic the only sound.
My appetite is gone. The slider I was eating sits like a stone in my stomach. I can still feel the weight of Billy’s stare, the cold finality of his departure.
He didn’t just leave the table; he left the conversation, the plan, the shared problem.
He left me.
It hurts to breathe.
“So,” Seth says, his voice a careful, neutral intrusion into the quiet. He sets the plates down on the end of the table. “First light. That work for you? For the samples?”
I force myself to meet his gaze, to pull myself back into the present, back to the reason I’m here.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice a little hoarse.
“First light is perfect. It’ll be easier to work with them before they get agitated by the day.
We’ll need to separate a few of the ones who are showing symptoms but aren’t too weak.
Maybe three or four. And we’ll need a clear, flat area to work in, away from the main herd. ”
Tex abandons the fire and walks over, his easy grin returning, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes this time.
“Say no more. We’ll have them corralled and waiting for you before the sun’s even up.” He leans against the table, his presence a welcome, vibrant energy. “We’ll be there, Sedona. Don’t you worry about that.”
“Me too,” Seth adds, his voice firm and sure. “I’ll be there, Sedona. Whatever you need.”
Their promises wrap around me, a warm blanket against the evening chill. It’s a small victory, but it feels huge.
It’s a step forward, a crack in the wall of my own making. I feel like I’m not just a ghost haunting my father’s life, but a person who can actually do something good.
“Thank you,” I say, and the words are thick with an emotion I can’t name. “Really.”
The rest of the dinner passes in a blur of quieter conversation. Clara asks Seth about the rodeo, and he tells her about team roping with Billy, his voice filled with a quiet pride.
Tex chimes in with stories of his own bronc-riding adventures, embellishing the details for dramatic effect, making Clara laugh. I smile and nod, but a part of me is still watching Billy walk away.
When the plates are clear and the fire is dying down to embers, Clara and I stand to leave. “We should probably get going,” I say. “Early morning.”
Tex walks us to the car, pulling me into another one of his signature hugs. “Get some rest, superstar. We’ll see you in the morning.” He even gives Clara a quick, friendly squeeze on the shoulder. “It was a pleasure, Clara.”
Seth is there too, his hands shoved in his pockets. “Drive safe.” His eyes meet mine in the dim light from the porch. “See you in the morning.”
As we climb back into the sedan, Clara lets out a long, slow breath. “Well,” she says, buckling her seatbelt. “That was… intense.”
I just nod, my hands tight on the steering wheel. I don’t trust myself to speak.
The drive back to my father’s house is quiet. The moon is high now, a silver coin in an inky sky, casting the rolling hills in a ghostly light.
I keep my eyes on the road, but my mind is back at the ranch, replaying the evening on a loop. Tex’s easy charm, Seth’s quiet support, and Billy’s cold, hard anger.
He hates me. The thought is a constant drumbeat in my head. And the worst part is, I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know if I can.
I thought that by coming back, by helping with the cattle, I could somehow make amends, could show him that I’m not the person who left all those years ago. But all I’ve done is make it worse.
I’ve forced my way back into his life, and he resents me for it.
I thought time would heal this wound. I thought that after five years, the anger would have faded into a dull ache, something we could both live with.
I was so stupidly naive. I thought he would understand my reasons, or at least hate me less by now. But he doesn’t. His anger is as fresh and sharp as the day I left, and it’s a barrier between us that feels impossibly high.
Clara reaches over and places her hand on my arm. “You did a good thing tonight, Sedona. You made a plan. You’re helping them.”
“I know,” I say in barely a whisper. “But it doesn’t feel like enough.”
“It’s more than enough,” she says firmly. “It’s everything.”
We pull into the driveway, the house dark and silent. I kill the engine, and the quiet that rushes in feels different this time. It’s not empty; it’s just… calm.
I’m exhausted, a weariness that goes all the way to my soul, but for the first time since I got back, it’s not a desperate, panicked exhaustion.
It’s the tired feeling of a long day’s work done.