Chapter 3
cade
Blue Rock Ranch stretches wide across Wildflower Canyon. Five generations of Mercer sweat soaks the soil.
Fences run clean and straight. The barns are red against the March sky. Corrals are filled with bawling calves and their mothers.
This time of year, the air carries a mix of smells—hay, manure, damp earth, and the sweet tang of molasses cubes scattered in troughs.
Calving season means long days and longer nights—watching, pulling, and praying the heifers deliver without problems. And if there are problems, you hope that the vet can make it in time.
It’s hard work, but I’ve never had a problem with it.
This is my life. The ranch is in my blood. Has always been.
Landon was always meant for bigger things, as my father used to say, and when he became a congressman for the state of Colorado, it was all of Dad’s dreams come true.
I’m proud of my brother just as I am of Blue Rock.
Our ranch isn’t grand like Duke Wilder’s or some of the spreads you see in Texas, but it’s strong.
I love my home, the house I grew up in, where my father and grandfather did as well. Each Mercer who lived here has added to it, made it bigger and better. It sits on the rise above the valley.
It’s a classic ranch house with white clapboard siding, a wide porch with cedar rockers, flowerbeds my mother planted long ago—she loved her roses, and Tillie, our housekeeper and guardian angel, makes sure they continue to bloom by tending them through the long, harsh winter.
The inside of the house is…renovated. I changed some of it after Dad died and everything after Jeanine.
This is my home, yes, but it’s Evie’s, too.
It’s warm and comfortable. Worn leather sofas, Navajo rugs, shelves lined with ranch ledgers, and old books.
A stone fireplace is where Evie likes to curl up on the hearth rug with a blanket and picture books.
On a similar hearth—though on a different rug—Sarah and I used to read, play, study, kiss….
“Your place is a home, Cade.”
“Dove, you have a home as well.”
Sarah shakes her head sadly. “Since Mama died…it’s just where Daddy and I sleep, you know?”
“He’ll come out of it, Dove.” I kiss her softly. “I promise. Grief is not permanent.”
But Sam Kirk was never the same, and neither was Sarah.
I shake my head, hoping the physical act will dispel her memories.
She’s never been far from my thoughts in the past decade, but it’s gotten worse since she came back, and has gotten entirely out of control since I saw her with Evie.
While I can see the lines of age on my face, she looks the same—except for her eyes. They don’t laugh anymore.
I run a hand over my face and walk into my office, where I’ve set up a bar. I pour bourbon into a heavy glass and down it like a shot.
“Cade, they’re here,” Tillie calls from the kitchen.
It’s Saturday evening, and I’d rather be back in the calving barn, but my brother and his wife said they’d drop by on their way back to Denver from a fundraiser in Aspen.
I don’t feel like seeing him or Violet. I know they’ll want to talk about Sarah being back in Wildflower Canyon. Violet has already called me a couple of times, asking why I haven’t driven that “lying bitch” out. Like, Wildflower Canyon is somehow my domain.
As much as I love Landon, Violet is a whole other thing. I keep it copacetic with her because that’s what family does, but her ambition and ruthlessness are not my brand of cattle.
I add another half a finger of bourbon and toss it back before I head to the living room.
Tillie is taking Violet’s coat.
She gives me a nod. She’s been with me for the past year, running this house in a way I couldn’t. She helps keep mine and Evie’s little world together. Godsend doesn’t even cover it.
When Jeanine was alive, we had another housekeeper, but she left, saying she’d found other employment—more like she couldn’t handle how Jeanine could be meaner than a rattler in a rain barrel.
Seeing Sarah again plays tricks on me. Here I am, thinking more about her but also about Jeanine, whom I try never to think about.
They used to be friends, Sarah and Jeanine.
But the minute Sarah was out, Jeanine was trying to get into my pants.
She finally did when I was drunk one night—so damn drunk I didn’t suit up properly. Next thing I know, she’s pregnant.
I married her because that’s what you do. You take responsibility. The best thing that came out of that debacle is Evie.
Perfect, wonderful Evie, who gives me purpose.
“Cade.” Landon hugs me, and I squeeze his shoulder. I’m always happy to see him. He wears an easy smile, but there are shadows under his eyes, which tells me the campaign trail is wearing thin.
He’s just seven years ahead of me, yet life’s etched twice as many years on his face.
I work outdoors with my hands while he sits behind a desk. On the campaign trail, he doesn’t work out and drinks too much, which is why he’s got a bit of a belly—something Violet complains about.
She’s sharp, fit, and the ideal politician’s wife. She knows what to say, when to say it, and who to butter up.
She goes on tiptoe and kisses my cheek. “How are you, Cade?”
Her blonde hair is smooth and coiffed into a bun. Her eyes flash green. She’s wearing a tailored suit that probably costs more than most folks in this county make in a month. Unlike my brother, she doesn’t look tired at all.
Energizer freaking bunny.
We settle in the living room, and Tillie doesn’t roll her eyes—even though she wants to—when Violet asks for sparkling water with a wedge of lemon (not lime) and a glass of champagne.
“I got a wedge of lemon but no sparkling water, and we have bourbon, no champagne,” Tillie says dryly.
Violet sighs dramatically. “Cade, you really need to stock the house properly. It’s half ours, you know?”
She likes to remind me every chance she gets that Landon still owns part of the ranch—less and less every year.
Our deal is simple: he takes half the profits, and in return for doing all the work that generates those profits, I receive five percent of his share each year. In ten years, Blue Rock will be mine outright, though I’ll still owe him half the profits for another ten.
Mac, my lawyer, told me it was a shitty deal. He isn’t wrong.
But Landon’s my brother.
“Vee, stop it,” Landon retorts mildly. “I’ll have a glass of the bourbon, Cade.”
I head back to my office and grab the bottle of whiskey Landon gifted me last Christmas, swapping it for the bourbon I was drinking so Violet won’t bitch. It’s some Japanese label—too fancy by half. Not the kind of thing a cowboy drinks.
I fill three glasses with the amber liquid, and with some drama, Violet picks hers up and even deigns to clink glasses with mine when we toast to Landon’s expected (hoped for?) election victory.
“It was hell getting out of Aspen,” he tells me as he relaxes on the couch. “The traffic’s worse every time we go.”
“How was the fundraiser?” I don’t want to make small talk with my brother, but he’s here, and I can’t kick him out.
I take a sip of whiskey and hide my grimace. It’s smooth, yes, but it’s not for me.
“It was an excellent fundraiser,” Violet chimes before he can answer. She sets the bourbon glass on the coffee table with a thud, her diamond bracelet rattling against it.
I don’t begrudge the money I give Landon from the ranch. It’s his right, his inheritance. But the fact that they live in luxury while I pour most of the money right back into the farm grates—especially when Violet is flashing her rocks.
She likes to pretend like her shit doesn’t stink, but Violet comes from a blue-collar family. She uses that on the campaign trail for storytelling but wants nothing to do with it otherwise.
Her goals are clear: for Landon to climb the ranks.
“He’s going to run for Senate in four years.”
“Then it’s the Governor’s mansion.”
“And then…a Presidential run, obviously.”
“You know, Cade, Otis Jessup’s development project is moving ahead, and he thinks Blue Rock could be part of it,” she continues. “Resorts, luxury homes. Celeste Jessup, his wife, says she’ll introduce me to the planners.”
I sigh instead of banging my head against the wall.
She brings it up repeatedly.
She can’t understand why I won’t sell Blue Rock. She’s decided that if she nags me enough, it’ll happen.
But it won’t.
Dad’s will is clear: Landon gets half, but he has no right to sell. Only I do.
I know Dad did that because he wasn’t sure Landon could resist Violet’s relentless greed. The ranch is worth more to developers and would generate a substantial amount more than it does as a working ranch.
But Blue Rock is the Mercer family legacy. I’m saving it for Evie and her kids.
“Let this, please, be the last time we talk about it, Violet.” I take my glass and let the whiskey slide down my throat before adding, “I am never going to sell Blue Rock.”
Before Violet gets into a rant, which she does every time I refuse to sell my heritage, Landon puts a hand on her thigh. “Vee, I told you not to bring it up.”
“Cade, campaigns cost money.” Violet offers me a patient smile that’s more knife than charm. “This ranch has potential far beyond cattle. Development could make us millions.”
I slam my hand on the coffee table, angry, tired, and downright disgusted with this woman. “This ranch breeds cattle. Always has. Always will.”
If I stay, I know I’ll say something I’ll regret. So, I stand up. “Look, I have to get back and—”
“Cade, we just got here,” Landon, as always, placates.
“Calving season’s here. I don’t have time to daydream about resorts,” I snap.
Landon shifts, his glass in hand. “It doesn’t hurt to hear people out, brother.”
“It does when it wastes my time.”
The firelight catches Violet’s sharp smile. “Speaking of wasted time…Sarah Kirk seems to be building relationships with Mav Kincaid and Duke Wilder.”
My jaw tightens. Landon goes completely still.
“I thought you were going to get her out of town, Cade,” Violet accuses.
“And how am I supposed to do that?” I demand.
“I’d like to spend some time drinking with my brother, Vee, without talking about the fuckin’ ranch or…that woman,” Landon mutters. “Can we try and do that?”
Violet glares at him, then turns to me. “Having her here is a problem, Landon. It’s a damn election year. If that old scandal surfaces—”
“Drop it,” my brother says, his voice low.
“Don’t be na?ve,” Violet barks. “Voters don’t care about the truth, Landon. They care about appearances. The appearance of a Mercer scandal could cost you everything. This is not the time for Cade’s whore of an ex to make waves.”
“She’s not making waves,” I grit the words out, forcing calm, not liking Violet calling Sarah a whore. Not even a little bit. “She’s doing her job.”
Landon leans forward, elbows on his knees. His tone is softer but no less pointed. “Violet’s right about this. If she starts talking, it could bring the past roaring back. We can’t afford that. Not now.”
“And what do you propose we do?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.
Landon nods thoughtfully. “I’ll talk to Hugh.”
I fling my arms in the air. “About what?”
“About her.”
When Sarah falsely accused Landon, Hugh Dillon was the sheriff, but he hadn’t been in Wildflower Canyon that night. We kept everything out of the official records because Deputy Porter Montgomery was a friend of our father’s.
Sheriff Hugh Dillon runs his office like a cattle drive—strict, orderly, and with no patience for strays. Always clean-shaven, boots polished, his badge gleaming on his belt instead of pinned to a uniform because he bucks tradition and works in jeans, a starched shirt, and a Stetson.
I’ve never known Hugh to bend the rules for anyone.
“What’s Hugh gonna do?” I ask, jaw tight.
Landon leans back, a cold smile tugging at his mouth. “Keep things calm. Remind her that she’s better off staying quiet. He’s got a way of making folks…cooperative.”
Hugh and Landon have always been friendly, but that's to be expected in Wildflower Canyon, where everybody knows everybody.
Still, I can’t see Hugh doing Landon’s bidding.
Sarah’s living in the house her father left her, running the clinic that’s now rightfully hers. Like it or not, she has every right to be here.
Landon can make it sound like she’s trespassing on the whole damn county, but I’m sure even Hugh wouldn’t buy that.
“If you go to Hugh, you’ll be bringing attention to the past,” I advise. “My recommendation: ignore her and pretend she doesn’t exist. Don’t give her any oxygen. Now, I need to get back. It’s the middle of calving season, and I don’t have time for this.” Or Violet. Or…the past.
“I understand.” Landon comes to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. “You take care, okay? I’ll see you soon.”
He gives me a brief hug.
It’s his way of making up, and I soften. “Yeah, Landon. See you soon.”