Chapter 35
Thirty-Five
I HAVE NO ONE TO BLAME FOR THE COMING DISASTER BUT MYSELF.
KINSLEY
My mother moves into the room and every head turns.
Her red dress leaves just enough to the imagination to make her unforgettable. I can’t help but stare. I don’t think I’ve seen her wear anything but jeans—maybe a tiered skirt and jean jacket for church on Christmas. I’m shocked at this side of her.
The look on her face says she’d rather be mucking stalls than spend an evening making small talk. Yet there's something untouchable about Callie Rose, something that speaks of wind-carved stone and endless sky, of a woman who's never bent to anything but her own conscience.
Ford is going to pass out when he sees her.
The panic hits me like cold water. Ford!
I never told her he'd RSVP’d.
I silently curse. This could be bad. So, so bad.
Wyatt's hand finds the small of my back, steady and warm, and I realize he's been watching me watch her. There's something in his eyes—curiosity mixed with understanding, as if he recognizes the complexity of loving someone who's both your greatest strength and your deepest vulnerability.
My mother has always cast a long shadow, one that's shaped every choice I've made. And now here's this man who's somehow slipped past all my defenses, about to meet the woman who taught me that love was nothing but a heartache.
Our eyes meet and the smile that crosses Mom's face is full of relief. My heart lifts and I realize that I’ve missed her.
We make our way across the patio space, Wyatt's presence both steadying and nerve-wracking beside me. When we reach her, I take a breath. "Mom," I say, my voice catching slightly on the word. "I'd like you to meet Wyatt Halloway. Wyatt, this is my mother, Callie Rose."
Wyatt removes his hat with the kind of old-fashioned courtesy that would make his grandfather proud, extending his hand. "Ms. Rose, it's an honor to meet you. Your daughter speaks of you often."
Mom assesses him, and her smile remains genuine. "Mr. Halloway. I've heard quite a lot about you as well." There's something in her tone—approval mixed with protective instinct. Okay. We can handle this.
"All good things, I hope," Wyatt says, and the easy confidence in his voice tells me he's not intimidated by her scrutiny.
"Mostly," she replies, her smile faint, her body easing by degrees.
Just as I'm starting to think this introduction might actually go smoothly, the main entrance opens again and the Whitmore's sweep in.
The universe, it seems, has a twisted sense of timing.
I look right past Eleanor's cream-colored lace dress with pearl beading and Maxwell's dark suit that looks like he's trying too hard to see Ford.
A line of curse words parades through my head.
Ford's polished and confident in his tailored suit jacket and silver belly cowboy hat, radiating authority like heat from asphalt.
The cosmic unfairness that my parents arrived within moments of each other, neither knowing the other would be here, isn't lost on me.
I have no one to blame for the coming disaster but myself.
Before I can process the full horror of what's about to unfold, Hank Ourey appears at Wyatt's elbow with the kind of timing that suggests he's been watching for an opportunity.
"Wyatt, " Hank says. "A few fellow cutters from the Lone Star State have some questions. Would you mind joining us?" He gestures to the bar.
Wyatt glances at me, reading the panic I'm trying to hide. "Go," I tell him quickly, grateful he has an escape route even as I dread being left alone for what's coming. Besides, Hank brought us an Ace—Texas tax-paying celebrities who support our cause. One of us needs to greet them properly.
"You sure?" His eyes search my face—he knows this moment matters.
"I'm sure." I manage a smile.
Wyatt believes me, bless him, and squeezes my hand once before following Hank, leaving me standing beside my mother just as Ford's gaze lands on her. I watch his expression shift—subtle, the slight widening of his eyes, the barely perceptible straightening of his shoulders.
Mom turns as if she felt his gaze and her breath catches.
The air between them crackles with decades of unresolved history, love and betrayal and bitter disappointment all compressed into a single moment.
I've never seen them in the same space. My feet feel rooted to the floor as Ford pushes between Maxwell and Elanore as if he can’t help but be drawn to her.
Mom smooths her dress. I have to hand it to her, she looks incredible. If I ever meet an ex, I hope I look half as good as she does tonight. A red dress. Dang it, Mom, you have no mercy for the man.
Mom grips her clutch like she's considering using it as a weapon, or maybe she just needs something to hold on to.
Ford reaches us and takes my mother's free hand before she can pull away, lifting it to his lips with the kind of old-world gallantry that once swept a young ranch girl off her feet. He's all charm and a devastating smile.
"Callie." His voice is warm honey. I want to gag, it's so sweet. "You're as stunning as the day you left me."
It’s a compliment wrapped around a blade, designed to remind her that she was the one who walked away, that she was the one who broke their family apart. It's masterful and cruel and so perfectly Ford that I want to step between them and demand he take it back.
My mother has had twenty-five years to build armor against exactly this kind of warfare, and she replies, "And you're as handsome as the devil himself."
My head is moving back and forth like I'm sitting front row at a cutting. My mouth's hanging open and I snap it shut. There are words for this moment, but heaven help me I don’t know what they are.
Our guest of honor arrives, and I quickly excuse myself, seizing the opportunity to make my escape. Not that either of them noticed. They’re too busy staring into one another’s eyes.
“I didn’t know if you’d come,” Ford says as I walk away.
"Why? Did you think I was scared to face you?"
I don’t hear his reply, though a part of me is dying to listen in.
"Senator Martinez," I extend my hand as I approach him. "It’s been a while. I'm so glad you could make it."
"Kinsley Rose." His weathered face creases into a smile that reaches his dark brown eyes. "Wouldn't miss it. Juliana and I were just saying how impressed we are with this little town." He cups my hand with both of his as if we’re long-lost friends.
“It’s wonderful to have you both.” Their RSVP said that their daughter was coming but I don’t see her. I don’t ask where she is because it’s none of my business.
"Let me introduce the two of you to some of our cutter friends from Texas," I offer, already leading them toward the group of trainers and riders Wyatt was speaking to only moments ago. He's since moved on, mingling with a group of local cattle ranchers. "I think you'll appreciate their stories.”
“From Texas?” he clarifies.
I nod. This is my game—knowing who matters to whom, understanding the web of relationships.
I catch the sound of my father's voice drifting across the room. "...always did have more pride than sense, didn't you, darling?"
I cringe feeling horrible for my mom. I wish he'd put a sock in it for the night. This isn't the time to drag our dirty laundry out of the back room.
"Senator, I'd like you to meet some of the finest horsemen in Texas," I say, "This is Tommy Brennan from the Double B Ranch, and Robert Hayes from the Circle H."
The handshakes that follow carry weight.
These aren't just cowboys in borrowed suits—these are men whose opinions shape voting patterns and whose wallets fund campaigns.
As I watch them interact with the Senator, the strategic brilliance of what Hank has orchestrated gives me a whole new level of respect for the man.
I nod to him in gratitude, and he lifts his glass to me.
I'm doubly grateful that Wyatt recruited him to our cause. A proper thank you is in order—which I plan to plant on his lips later tonight.
"Nice ranches you've got here in Gritstone," Tommy says, his weathered hands gesturing toward the windows that overlook the valley's patchwork of properties. "Though I imagine that fire zoning ordinance has all these families worried. Heck, it's got all of us spooked back home."
Robert nods grimly. "Government trying to tell us we can't manage our own land the way our grandfathers did. Next thing you know, they'll be regulating which direction we can ride our horses."
I watch Senator Martinez's expression shift subtly, the politician in him recognizing an opportunity when it presents itself. "Well now, gentlemen, that's exactly the kind of federal overreach I've been fighting in Washington."
“Don’t you chair the committee over the Forest Service?” Tommy asks. He manages to ask in such a way that it doesn’t sound like an accusation.
I’m praying that the Senator takes his comment in stride. I just got him here and I don’t want him storming out in a huff.
“I do. And I’ve been looking into this situation. I’d like to see it resolved favorably for all parties involved,” he replies.
Robert claps the Senator on the shoulder with the easy familiarity of men who understand power. "We'd sure appreciate any help you could provide," Robert says, “These regulations could put a lot of good ranchers out of business."
My instincts were right. This evening has evolved into a convergence of exactly the right people at exactly the right moment.
A gentle touch on my shoulder interrupts my satisfaction. I turn to find my mother beside me.
"Kinsley." She smiles at all of us. "A word?"
My stomach drops as I excuse myself from the group and follow her toward a quieter corner.
"I would have appreciated a warning," she says quietly, her eyes finding Ford across the room where he's charming a group of oil executives' wives. "But that’s neither here nor there. I have about twenty minutes left in me so point me to who you want me to talk to.”
"Mom, I—"
Jessica appears at my elbow. “Kinsley!” She hugs me and then Mom. “It’s so good to see both of you.” She’s smiling like this is the best night of her life. “I just pulled into town, and I came straight here.”
She looks incredible for just pulling in. Her flower print, off-the-shoulder dress hugs her curves and her boots are polished. Her hair is half up with a little twist and her makeup is flawless. Leave it to my best friend to blow into town looking like a million bucks.
I hug her back. “You look great.”
Mom hugs her and looks at me over her shoulder.
I glance around the room. “The group by the buffet.”
She nods and squeezes my hand. “Love you.”
As she walks away, I turn and watch my father watch her cross the room. It's shocking to see the openness on his face, the admiration. He couldn't still be in love with her. Could he? That would be … horrible.
Jess touches my arm. “Everything okay?”
“I hope so,” I mumble before brightening when I see Wyatt across the room, so grateful things are so good between us. I turn to Jess. “Okay, your job is to keep the band happy.”
Jess turns to see who is playing and she grips my arm and starts shaking it. “Are you kidding me?!” She squeals and jumps up and down. “Cash Thornton is my dream man.”
I laugh. “I told you I would introduce you to a man you could fall in love with. Well, tonight your job is to make sure he never goes thirsty.” I start pulling her toward the small gazebo where the band plays.
“Pinch me,” Jess whispers.
We wait for a break in songs, and I step forward to introduce Jess to the band. The guys are gracious and grin at Jessica and it’s all I can do to hold her up. “Are you going to be okay?” I’m a little worried she’d faint if I leave her here alone.
She nods. “I got this. Go do what you do.” She swirls her hand in a motion that tells me to get lost while never taking her eyes off Cash.
“Have fun,” I say as I start to walk away but then stop. “Okay, don’t have too much fun.”
She giggles in a completely non-committal way, and I have to leave her because the success of this whole thing rests on my shoulders.
I got this.