11. Beck
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Beck
I go to her office for the breeding book.
That’s what I tell myself. I need the breeding book because there are calls to make and paperwork to file and someone has to keep the program running while Scarlett is gone. That’s the reason. That’s the only reason.
But I end up sitting at her desk all day.
It’s cold in here. Cinderblock walls, concrete floor, a space heater in the corner that rattles when it runs. I never understood why she didn’t use the office I built her at the manor, the one with the bay window and the leather chair and the heat that actually works. Now I think maybe I do.
This was hers. This cold, ugly little room in the barn was hers in a way that the pretty office at the manor never could be. She built this with her own money from commissions because she refuses to let me just hand her a fully-loaded bank account. She earned this. Nobody gave it to her.
The phone rings.
“Cooper Land and Cattle, this is…”
“Scarlett?” A woman’s voice. Hopeful. “Scarlett, thank God. I’ve been trying to reach you for days.”
“This is Beck Cooper. Can I help you?”
Silence. Long enough that I check to make sure the call didn’t drop.
“Mr. Cooper.” The voice is different now, careful. “This is Deborah, at the registry. I was calling about the paperwork for the Harmon foal.”
“I can handle that. What do you need?”
More silence. Then, “I’ll just… I’ll wait for Mrs. Cooper to call me back. Please do inform her about this. Thank you.”
She hangs up.
I stare at the phone. What the hell was that?
It rings again before I can figure it out.
“Cooper Land and Cattle.”
“Beck?” A man this time. Dr. Reeves, the vet. “I was trying to reach Scarlett. Is she there?”
“She’s not available right now. What do you need?”
“I was hoping to get her new number. We’ve got a mare coming in next week that she wanted to look at, and I can’t reach her at the house.”
“I can take a message. I can send someone to go down and have a look.”
“Send someone? Hm, that’s… I’ll wait for her.” He pauses. “Take care of yourself, Beck.”
He hangs up too.
The phone rings a third time. Fourth. Fifth. Every call is the same. People asking for Scarlett and going quiet when I tell them she’s not here. People who suddenly remember they have somewhere else to be.
At eleven, Ray Austin calls.
Ray is old money, old cattle, old everything. His family has been ranching in this county since before the Civil War. When he says something, people listen.
“Beck.” His voice is gravel and disappointment. “I heard about what happened.”
“Ray, look, I appreciate…”
“I’m moving my horses to Ferris.”
I stop talking.
“I didn’t do business with you, son.” Ray’s voice is steady. Certain. “I did business with her. She’s the one who knew my mares. She’s the one who called me back when I had questions. She’s the one who showed up at three in the morning when Duchess was foaling wrong.”
“Ray…”
“I hope you figure out whatever you need to figure out. But until you do, I’ll be taking my business elsewhere.”
He hangs up.
The phone rings again. A buyer this time, asking about a colt from last year’s sale.
“I’d rather wait for Mrs. Cooper,” he says when I offer to help. “No offense, Mr. Cooper. I just… I’d rather wait.”
I set the phone down. I put my head in my hands.
The door opens.
Ellis is standing there. Behind him, two more hands, Rodriguez and Carter. They’ve all got their hats in their hands, men do that when they’re about to deliver bad news.
“Mr. Cooper,” Ellis says. “I’m here to give my notice.”
I lift my head. “What?”
“I’m quitting. Effective today.” He doesn’t look away, doesn’t flinch. “Rodriguez and Carter too.”
“Ellis, whatever this is about, we can talk about it.”
“No sir. We can’t.” He steps forward and sets something on the desk. An envelope. His final timesheet, probably. “Mrs. Cooper hired me, trained me. She trusted me. And I stood in that yard and listened to you talk about her like she was livestock.”
“That’s not what I…”
“I know what I heard.” His voice is hard. “We all know what we heard. And I can’t work for a man who talks about his wife that way. Not anymore.”
He turns and walks out. Rodriguez and Carter follow without a word.
I sit there.
Dovey appears in the doorway a few minutes later. She’s been on this ranch since my father’s time. She’s seen everything, and she doesn’t rattle easily.
“That’s three,” she says quietly. “Three people I’ve got to replace because they’d rather be unemployed than work for you.”
“Dovey…”
“I’m not going anywhere, Mr. Cooper. I’ve got too many years in to start over somewhere else.” She looks at me with eyes that have seen too much. “But you should know. Those three people? They’re not leaving because of what you said. They’re leaving because of who you said it about.”
She disappears back into the barn.
The office goes quiet. Finally, mercifully quiet.
I look up.
The calendar is on the wall behind her desk. The one she uses to track everything. Breeding dates, vet visits, farrier schedules. I’ve seen it a hundred times and never really looked at it.
But now I look.
Red pen. Dates circled in red pen. October, November, December. January, February, March. Every single day I went to Salt Fork, marked in red like blood on the wall.
I start counting.
But I stop at thirty.
She knew the whole time, and she was waiting to see if I would tell her and I didn’t.
I pick up the phone and dial from memory.
“Hello?” Camille’s voice.
“Don’t call me again.”
“Beck? What’s wrong?”
“I’m coming out there. Once. To say what I need to say. And then you don’t call me again.”
I hang up before she can answer.