Chapter 4 #2
She wipes her hands on her apron. “Probably nothing. But a man named James Carter used to stop in here whenever he passed through Bell River. Breakfast every time. Sweet man. Tipped well.”
The air leaves my lungs.
My dad.
Why would he be passing through Bell River enough for the locals to remember him?
She smiles wistfully. “Let me check on our lawman’s breakfast,” she says, already moving toward the back.
Her words cling to me through the rest of my coffee. Through the drive. Through the wait at the county commissioner’s office.
He knew Samuel Hollis. Knew him well enough to arrange something this complicated. This binding.
So why didn’t he tell me?
“Miss Carter?”
I look up to see a man in a tailored suit standing in the doorway. I gather my papers and follow him into an office that’s oddly modern compared to the rest of town—clean lines, polished surfaces, carefully curated authority.
He circles the desk and sits. I spread the documents out, pointing to the discrepancies.
“There are permit discrepancies here,” I say, tapping the page, “and here. The water allocation doesn’t match the acreage.”
He scans them, humming softly. Then he shakes his head.
“They look correct to me.”
I blink. “That can’t be right. Hollis Ranch’s landmass doesn’t nearly align with this level of water usage.”
He lifts a hand. “You’re here on behalf of Hollis Ranch?”
“Yes.”
A smile flickers. “Gage Hollis never cared much about permits.”
The casual dismissal hits harder than an outright refusal.
I lean back slightly, crossing my arms.
His expression falters—just a fraction.
And that’s when I know.
Whatever is happening in Bell River, it’s bigger than Gage. Bigger than me. And my father’s fingerprints are all over it.
“Well, as part owner, I care,” I say, meeting his gaze head-on. “And that’s more than enough reason.”
He leans back in his chair, clearly not used to being challenged—especially not by me. His mouth opens, probably to dismiss me again, when a soft knock interrupts us.
The door cracks open. A woman peers in. “Mr. Killem? Mr. West is here to see you.”
His expression shifts—too quick to miss. He nods, already standing. “Excuse me.”
And just like that, I’m dismissed.
I sit there alone, arms crossed tight over my chest, irritation simmering beneath my skin. Maybe it’s me. Maybe I did misread something. Maybe I’ve walked into this halfcocked, convinced there’s a problem because I want there to be one.
I exhale slowly and glance around the office, my eyes catching on a large, mounted map along the far wall.
Curiosity gets the better of me.
I stand and walk closer.
My stomach drops.
The Horizon Group logo is stamped across the corner—clean, corporate, unmistakable. I know that name. Anyone working in environmental studies does. They’re a massive development firm out of Austin, infamous for swallowing land whole and spitting out high-rise condos and “luxury communities.”
And based on the highlighted parcels creeping toward Bell River?
They’re coming here.
“Well,” I murmur to myself, “of course.”
A chill runs through me. Does Gage know about this? Is that why he’s been so territorial—so hostile? Not just protecting land, but protecting it from being taken?
Maybe I came at this wrong.
Maybe what he needs isn’t another argument.
Maybe he needs proof I’m not the enemy.
***
On the way back to the ranch, I stop at the local store and grab what I need for my favorite comfort meal. The kind my mother used to make when everything else felt like it was falling apart. Something warm. Familiar. Grounding.
Something that says I’m trying without having to say words.
By the time I’m back, Gage is still out with the ranch hands. I get to work in the kitchen, letting the routine steady me. Garlic sizzling in the pan. Chicken grilling. Vegetables roasting until they smell like home.
I plate everything carefully—two dishes. Equal portions. A silent olive branch.
The back door slams open.
Gage stomps in, dusty and exhausted, and walks right past me like I’m not even there.
“Gage.”
He stops at the foot of the stairs and turns slowly, clearly bracing himself.
“I thought we could sit down,” I say, gesturing to the table. “I made dinner. Consider it a peace offering.”
He looks at the plates. Really looks at them.
Then he shakes his head. “I’m not hungry. Long day. Longer one tomorrow.”
He turns to go upstairs.
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing down the urge to scream. Ever since I got to Bell River, it feels like everyone’s been taking turns testing my patience.
God, I miss my therapist.
“No,” I say, sharper than I intended. “You need to sit down and listen to me.”
He freezes halfway up the stairs and turns back slowly. “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me.” I cross my arms, grounding myself. “Something is going on in this town, and I don’t have anyone else to talk to. Consider me desperate for needing you in my corner.”
He comes down one step at a time, like each one costs him something.
“I don’t know what you’re insinuating—”
“This isn’t an insinuation,” I cut in. “Hollis Ranch needs help. There are permit issues, Gage. Real ones. And the commissioner dismissed me like I was wasting his time.”
His jaw tightens. “You talked to Killem?”
“Yes.”
His eyes darken. “That man is a snake. I told you to leave things alone, but you never listen.”
“Someone has to give a crap about this place!”
“I do!” he snaps. “I’ve been busting my ass here since I was nine years old. Don’t you dare waltz in and pretend you suddenly care more than I do.”
The words sting—but I don’t back down.
“Just because I don’t have history here doesn’t mean I don’t care,” I say quietly. “I’m trying to help.”
He steps close enough that I can feel the heat coming off him. Then he pulls back.
“You’ve done enough.”
He turns and heads back up the stairs.
“God, you’re so arrogant,” I mutter, loud enough for him to hear.
He stops at the top, his back to me.
“And you’re an outsider,” he says. “You don’t belong here.”
Then he disappears.
The words land heavier than I expect.
I stare at the plates on the table, throat tight, chest aching. I don’t know what happened to make him this guarded—this closed off—but I feel it now. The wall. The wound underneath it.
And despite everything?
I still can’t walk away.
If Gage won’t share a meal with me, I know someone else will.
I gather the plates and head for the door.
Hank won’t say no.