10. Between Two Worlds
Between Two Worlds
Drake
The morning is too still.
The kind of quiet that puts a man on edge.
I step outside, inhaling the crisp air, but something doesn’t sit right. The ranch moves as it always does—horses shifting in their stalls, birds flitting between the trees—but there’s a tension I can’t shake.
Maybe it’s the letter from my father. Maybe it’s the way the past keeps reaching for me when I thought I’d left it behind.
Or maybe it’s the feeling that someone’s watching.
I find Samantha and Emmy in the barn, already deep in their morning routine. Emmy chatters excitedly as she brushes Daisy’s coat, her enthusiasm cutting through the unease clawing at me.
“Morning,” Samantha says, glancing up.
“Morning,” I reply, my gaze lingering on her. There’s a steadiness to her, but I can see past it now. She’s carrying something, just like I am.
Emmy beams. “Daddy! Can we paint the banner today? I want it to be perfect!”
“Of course,” I say, crouching beside her. “We’ll make it the best banner this ranch has ever seen.”
She squeals and dashes off to grab her supplies, leaving Samantha and me alone.
“You didn’t sleep much,” she says. Not a question—just a knowing statement.
“Neither did you,” I counter.
She leans against the stall door, crossing her arms. “So, what’s the plan?”
I glance toward the storage shed in the distance, the weight of the old letters pressing against my mind.
“I need to figure out what’s in those documents that’s worth sneaking onto my land for.”
Her jaw tightens with determination. “Then let’s do it.”
The kitchen table is covered in papers.
Samantha sorts through them, separating old ranch ledgers from personal correspondence while I focus on the letters from my father. His handwriting is familiar, but there’s a sharpness to it now, a strain I don’t remember.
“These letters mention a ‘partnership,’” Samantha says, holding up a worn stack of correspondence. “Do you know anything about that?”
I shake my head. “If my dad had a business partner, he never mentioned it to me. But he wasn’t exactly open about the ranch’s struggles.”
She frowns, flipping through the pages. “It looks like whoever this was, things didn’t end well. These letters aren’t just tense—they’re almost threatening.”
I take the stack from her, scanning the words. One line stops me cold.
If you don’t honor our agreement, there will be consequences.
A slow burn of unease spreads through my chest.
“This wasn’t just a disagreement,” I mutter. “Whoever this was, they weren’t just a partner. They were a threat.”
Samantha meets my gaze. “And if they had unfinished business with your father, they might still be out there.”
I call Sheriff Dan Mason.
He answers on the second ring. “Drake.”
“I think I’ve got something,” I say, filling him in on the letters. “Do you know of anyone who might’ve had a grudge against my dad? Someone who could still be holding on to it?”
There’s a pause before Dan replies. “There were a few names tied to the ranch back when things were rough. Let me dig through some old records.”
“Appreciate it,” I say before hanging up.
I stare at the letter still in my hand, a fresh wave of unease creeping in.
I need answers.
The rest of the day is spent on the showcase preparations.
Emmy commands the ranch hands like a seasoned boss, directing where decorations should go and making sure every detail is perfect. Her laughter fills the air, and despite everything, it makes me smile.
“She’s a natural leader,” Samantha says beside me, watching Emmy with an affectionate look.
“She gets that from her mother,” I say, my voice softer now.
Samantha turns to me, her eyes searching mine. “She gets it from you, too.”
The words catch me off guard, a warmth spreading through my chest.
For a moment, I let myself believe her.
Later that evening, after Emmy is asleep, Samantha and I sit on the porch of the guesthouse. The stars are scattered across the sky, and the air is cool, carrying the scent of hay and earth. It should be peaceful, but my mind won’t rest.
“I’ve been thinking about your dad’s letter,” Samantha says, breaking the silence.
“Yeah?”
She shifts slightly, drawing the blanket tighter around her shoulders. “He said to be careful who you trust. Do you think he meant someone close to him?”
“It’s possible,” I admit. “My dad wasn’t paranoid, but he was careful. If he wrote that, it means he had a reason to suspect someone.”
She exhales slowly. “What if whoever’s behind this is still close by? Someone we’d never suspect?”
The thought sends a chill through me.
If they are, I’ll find them.
And I’ll make sure they regretted stepping foot on my ranch.
The next morning, I sit in my office, replaying the surveillance footage again.
The reflection in the car’s window catches my eye. I freeze the frame, zooming in.
There—a faint logo on the side of the vehicle. It’s partially obscured, but I recognize it. A local delivery company.
I grab my phone and dial Dan.
“I think I have a lead,” I say, explaining what I found.
“I’ll look into it,” he replies. “But be careful, Drake. If this is someone local, it could get messy.”
Messy doesn’t scare me. But the idea of someone creeping around my home, my family?
That sets me on edge.
By afternoon, I need a distraction. Samantha suggests we spend time with Emmy, helping her put the final touches on the banner.
“Daddy, look!” Emmy holds up the finished product, her face glowing with pride.
“It’s perfect,” I say, ruffling her hair.
Samantha kneels beside her, adding a few extra touches. Watching them together, something tightens in my chest.
This is what I’m fighting for. This life. This family.
I won’t let anyone take it from me.
As the sun sets, I head toward the storage shed.
The tire tracks are still faintly visible in the dirt, a reminder of whoever was lurking around.
I crouch, studying them, when the crunch of gravel behind me sends every muscle in my body tensing.
I turn sharply, my hand instinctively moving toward the knife on my belt.
A shadow shifts near the treeline.
Too far to make out clearly.
“Who’s there?” I call, my voice firm.
Silence.
But the figure lingers for a moment before slipping into the darkness.
My heart pounds as I stand, scanning the area.
Whoever it was, they’re watching us. And they’re not done yet.
I find Samantha and talk to her about moving her things into the main house. With all that’s going on, I don’t feel she’s safe to stay in the guesthouse. She agrees and we immediately grab her things and set her up in her own space inside the expansive house.