Chapter 7 Reid
Gray was waiting at the end of the drive when I pulled up, coffee in hand, and a look on his face like he'd already accounted for everything that could go wrong today. My mind was three steps ahead, mapping trouble that hadn't happened yet, the same as Gray.
We were heading into Hollow Ridge for the monthly supply run, which used to be a one-man job, but now Calder made us go two at a time. “Just in case,” he’d said, which meant, “If you get shot, I want a witness.” Fair enough.
Gray said nothing, just flicked his eyes over, then back to the horizon.
The Hollow Ridge post office was a squat limestone bunker built to survive hurricanes and people in a hurry. Gray parked and killed the engine. For a second, we sat, letting the air con struggle to keep the cab from turning into a Dutch oven. He rolled his shoulder.
Inside, the place was packed, seven, maybe eight people, which was easily half the population of Hollow Ridge, all standing in a line that barely moved.
There was the usual mix of retired ranch wives, a pair of migrant workers in from the orchard, and one pale kid with a cell phone glued to his face and earbuds stuck so deep he'd need a dentist to remove them.
The real attraction, though, was at the counter.
Jennie Cardin, today in black jeans and a field shirt worn thin, stood squaring off against Bill Hargrove, the Coleman foreman.
Bill was hard to miss, late sixties, rawboned, with a face I could have sanded wood with.
His hands were gnarled and old, but he handled a rein with careful menace.
He walked with a limp that didn’t slow him down, just made a person think twice about getting in his way.
Behind Bill, in a tight cluster by the wall, waited Harlan Coleman and Levi, the smarmy son. The old man wore a suit that probably cost more than my truck, and he leaned on his silver-topped cane like a prop in a melodrama.
The woman behind the counter, Dottie Crane, postmistress since the Carter Administration, watched the standoff with the bland patience of someone who’d seen this play before and knew exactly how long it would run.
We slid into the line. Gray, two steps behind me, kept his eyes on the floor and his mouth shut, but I knew he was mapping every angle, every tell in the room. I let my gaze wander, slow and steady, to see if anyone else was paying attention.
They were.
“Miss Cardin.” Hargrove’s voice was all gravel. “Been meaning to ask you something. We’ve got a perfectly good address out at the Coleman place. Best-known property in three counties. So, I’m curious what brings you to the post office.”
She kept her face smooth. “Picking up a package.”
“Sure. But why here?” He spread his hands, patient, like he was asking something reasonable. “You’re working on Coleman land. Eating Coleman food, most nights. You’d think shipping to the ranch would be the natural thing.”
“I like to keep my business separate,” she said. “Company policy.”
“Company policy.” He repeated it like he was chewing on something dry. “For a two-week survey job.”
She didn’t answer.
“What is it you’re shipping that you don’t want us to see, Miss Cardin?”
The room went quiet. Someone near the back stopped shuffling.
“It’s just equipment,” she said. “My equipment, addressed to me. Nothing that concerns you.”
Hargrove shook his head the way men do when they’ve already decided what they think and are just waiting for confirmation. “Your package would be safe at the ranch. Harlan runs a tight operation. Folks who work his land, they don’t keep secrets.”
“I’m not keeping secrets,” Jennie said. “I’m keeping a mailbox. Those are different things.”
He leaned forward. “Are they?”
She looked at him and said nothing. But her hands stayed loose at her sides. Oh, yeah, she was trained. She was ready to grab her sidearm if needed. I bet she could outdraw any man in this room. Except maybe me and Gray of course.
Harlan stepped up, cane tapping, filling the space between them. “Miss Cardin,” he said, “there’s a proper way to do things in this town. Folks who forget that tend not to last long.”
She turned, giving him the full force of her stare. “I’m not here to last. Just here to work.”
The silence got thicker, stretched between the walls. Dottie’s eyes were on me, waiting to see what would happen next. Gray shifted behind me, just enough to tell me we were already on the same page.
Jennie reached for her PO box with the key, but Hargrove blocked her with an outstretched palm.
“Just a few more questions,” he said.
She glared.
Enough was enough. I stepped out of line.
“Morning, Mr. Hargrove,” I said. “You’re driving around checking up on where people get their mail? Must be a slow morning on the Coleman spread.”
He looked up, surprised to see me, but only for a split second. “Not your business, Maddox. Stay in your lane.” I wasn’t surprised he only knew me by the ranch I worked on. He was the type of man who wouldn’t bother learning anyone’s name unless it benefitted him somehow.
“Miss Cardin’s mailbox is hers,” I said. “Same as yours or mine.” I glanced at Dottie. “I believe that’s federal, isn’t it, Dottie?”
Dottie, God bless her, saw the opening and took it. “It is, in fact,” she said, pleasantly. “PO boxes are private. Not subject to third-party inquiry.”
Bill let his hand drop, but the look he gave me was pure poison as Jennie opened her mailbox and grabbed a small box.
Harlan watched the whole thing, counting moves ahead. “You always did know how to make a scene, Coulter.”
I smiled politely. “Just helping a neighbor, sir. It’s the Maddox way.”
Gray moved up beside me, silent, but the shift in the room was obvious.
Levi bristled, but Harlan shut him down with a single tap of the cane.
"Some people don't know when they're beat," the old man said with finality, as though that settled anything.
“Some people don’t know when to walk away,” I replied.
Bill and Harlan didn’t move, but the energy bled out of the confrontation. Gray stayed at my side, quiet and unblinking. The Colemans weren’t scared, but they were reminded.
Jennie tucked her box under one arm, thanked Dottie, and walked past us, out into the heat. I watched her go, then turned back to the counter. “We’re good here, Dottie?” I asked.
She winked. “Always are, honey.”
I waited a full count before following. The door slammed behind me.
Jennie was standing at the corner of the building, breathing slowly, her jaw clenched so hard she was in danger of cracking a tooth. I thought she’d just keep walking. But she stopped, ran a hand through her hair, and turned. “You didn’t need to do that,” she called.
I walked over, aware of Gray just out of my line of vision. He had my back. “Maybe not,” I said. “But I wanted to.”
She laughed. “Are you always the white knight, or just when there’s a crowd?”
I considered it. “Crowds don’t bother me. Bullies do.”
She looked at me for a long second. “I had it handled.”
“I know,” I said, and meant it. “You’re clearly competent. But you shouldn’t have had to.”
She stared past me, at the empty street. The mask slipped, just a hair, and I saw the tremor in her hands, the way her left thumb worked the edge of the package, ready to tear something.
“Did one of them hurt you?” I asked.
She shook her head, but not in denial. “No, nothing like that, but I’m always on edge, waiting on something bad.”
I nodded. “You want to get coffee? Or do you want to just be done with this place?”
She looked up, and for a second, something in the air between us changed. “What I want,” she said, “is to not have to fight them every damn day.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. So, I did what felt right. I closed the distance, slow enough for her to step away, but she didn’t. I reached out, touched her shoulder and waited.
She let out a breath, let her guard drop, and then she got up on her tiptoes and kissed me.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t pretty. It was all heat and teeth, and if I’d had a brain in my head, I’d have stopped it, but I didn’t.
I wanted her, and she wanted to not be alone.
Or maybe she wanted me too. I didn’t care either way in that moment.
She broke away first, face flushed, and said, “That’s not how this was supposed to go.”
I grinned. “‘Supposed to’ is overrated.”
She laughed again and her whole face lit up. It might’ve been the first time I’d seen her completely unguarded. “You’re trouble, Coulter.”
Understatement. “Always have been.”
She backed away with the box under her arm, and walked to her truck. I watched her go, watched the way she squared her shoulders and shook off the last of the shake. When she slid into the cab, she paused, looked back, and gave me a single, two-finger salute.
I returned it.
She drove off, and I stood there a beat longer than I should have.
Gray came over, expression unreadable. “We done?” he asked.
“Not even close,” I said, and we got in the truck.
We stopped at the feed store for grain. While Gray dealt with the order, I caught sight of Eli by the side of the building, staring daggers at the Coleman truck parked on the far side of the lot.
Levi and Bill stood next to it, shooting the shit. Harlan was gone. As I watched, Levi spotted Eli and said something too quiet for me to catch, but it made Bill laugh and Eli’s face go red. Eli didn’t walk away. He took two steps, fists clenched, and squared up to Levi.
Bill turned, real slow, and said, “You looking for a problem, kid?”
“Just looking at one,” Eli shot back.
Levi stepped forward, nose to nose, and for a moment I thought we’d be picking Eli’s teeth out of the gravel.
I moved, fast, and got between them before anyone could escalate. “Let’s not,” I said. “Not here.”
Eli tried to shove past, but I caught his arm, hard enough for him to get the point.
Levi grinned, all teeth and venom. “You got a leash on your pup, huh?”
“Better than letting him run wild,” I said. “Better for your sake.”
Bill’s eyes narrowed. “Keep him under control, or next time it’s not words.”
I smiled, but there was nothing friendly in it. “You ever want to settle up, Bill, you know where to find us.”
He spat at the ground. “This isn’t over, Maddox.”
I waited until they got in their truck and left. Eli was still vibrating, barely keeping his feet under him.
“You want to tell me what that was?” I asked.
“They were talking shit,” Eli said. “About you, about the ranch. I’m not letting them get away with it.”
“You let them get to you,” I said, cold. “That’s what they wanted.”
He glared, but the heat was gone as his shoulders slumped. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Just be smarter.”
He nodded without looking at me. “Never ends, does it?” Eli said.
“Not in this town,” I replied.
He didn’t answer, but the message was clear, there would be another round.