At twilight, I pull the guys in for another talk. They form a ring around me and I sense the discord. I want to smooth it over, but I know some things are simply broken and are not meant to be fixed. If they want to walk, they know where the door is. If they want to stay, they’ve got paychecks waiting.

“Okay,” I say as they settle in and listen to me. “We can camp or we can keep going. If we slow down and head out, we’ll be heading home toward dawn. Or we can camp and head out at dawn.”

Beside me, Carson takes on this role and offers a good suggestion. “If you want to keep going, we can stop for a meal, drink, and piss break. If you don’t we’ll have that break anyway.”

I nod, agreeing with him. The men mumble, and I tell them they can think it over, but the resounding responses are that we should break for chow and get back out.

“What about Bram and Scott?” It’s Shane’s voice ringing out.

I answer with my usual calculated wariness. “They’ll be happy to get home to their beds earlier rather than later, I’m sure,” I say, and there’s a ripple of agreement. Shane’s glare leaves me and he nods.

“Chow and then we ride!” He brings his horse around and I want to sock him right in the mouth. It’s not his god damned call. It’s mine. He’s hired help, not the boss. Not on my ranch.

But I let it go. This isn’t an argument I want. As men step out of saddles and stretch, the sounds of bones cracking and men groaning becomes louder than the chorus of crickets. It’s a welcome sound, but I maneuver Thunder around to do a quick parameter check.

We’re not safe from cougars and bears here, and I want to make sure they know we’re here and armed. The predators out here are smart, and a gun on your hip is often enough to keep all but the starving critters out of sight.

I circle, giving another thought to my plan. I’m not proud of it. Tricking dad isn’t my favorite idea, but maybe it’s time to fight dirty. After all, he is. The fortune my great grandfather passed down isn’t really his to guard like this. He’s a rotten bastard, and it pisses me off.

But it’s not about the money. It’s about getting the recognition I deserve. I’ve fucking worked hard to build myself for the ground up and all he did was impose more rules, more bars for me to meet before I’m good enough to call myself his son.

Once I’m sure the perimeter is safe, I head back to where the guys have lit up a fire and are cooking and setting coffee to percolate. Carson offers me a mug of coffee and I crack open the can of beans I’d brought and set it in the fire.

Within minutes it’s hot and I nudge it out and hold it with a leather glove I keep on hand for working. Carson is taking bites of some franks that are being passed around and cooked on skewers. I take one that’s offered to me and dip the molten dog into my beans.

As we all dig in, the night sky turns from twilight to billions of stars and a chilly night breeze that cuts to the bone.

Dawn brings sight of the herd we’re here to drive home and the collective sigh is much quieter than last night’s gusto. I’m just excited at the thought of getting home. Getting home.

I’ve got some explaining to do with Grace. And I’m curious to see how May is doing.

“Not much longer, Boss,” Carson says as we slow down and watch the guys heading into formation. As we begin to drive the horses back toward home, I sigh with relief. Not much longer.

As the last horse files into the pasture, I let loose a sigh of relief. We did it. No major calamities. Carsen and I head toward the barn, and he offers to take my horse so I can head into the house. I thank him and feel better the second my boots hit solid ground. I head to the house, looking toward May’s bedroom window.

I’m not certain why.

The front door is locked and I grab the key and let myself in. I catch her in the living room with a book in hand and suspiciously red eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” she says, and I shrug. I don’t care. She can lock the doors if she chooses. I make a mental note to make sure she knows where the twelve gauge is and how to use it. I doubt anything will ever happen, but I’d be more comfortable knowing that if something did happen she’d be okay.

“How was it?” I ask. It’s not the question I want to ask her.

“Fine. You look tired,” she says, rising to her feet. “Would you like to get some rest? I could make you something to eat.” Her genuine concern warms my heart as she heads to my side. I stare into her pretty blue eyes wondering why she was crying. But as I watch, the misery leaves her expression and there’s a sweet joy there that I want to enjoy.

“I’m fine,” I say, needing to set her mind at ease. “Are you okay?”

She seems startled by my question, but her eyes dart to my lips. I stiffen as she sucks her lower lip between her teeth and nibbles it before letting it slide free so she can respond.

“Um… yeah.” She sounds hesitant, as if she wants to open up but knows better. But I don’t care anymore. All I want now is to touch her again, to feel her surprised intake of breath, her sweet shiver of pleasure…

But there are other things to think about. Like the fact that she hasn’t said a word about Grace. “How is Grace?” I ask, forcing my mind to stop all these crazy thoughts.

“She was fine when I sent her off to school,” May says, her expression softening. “She’s such a sweetheart.” Suddenly she takes on a more troubled expression. She bites down on that distracting lower lip and I sense she’s doing that to keep from speaking her mind.

“What are you keeping from me?” Anger surges up in me. This is my daughter. May better not be hiding something.

Her blue eyes meet mine as the words burst out of her. “Gertie hits her.”