Chapter 2

Stryder

 

California billions beckoned but they had nothing on the sunsets of Montana or the smile of Melody Steel. Stryder Flint rolled his head on his shoulders, stretching after a long day at the office. He leaned back in his leather recliner and used his toe to turn him to face his ocean view window on the coast of California.

The cliffs of the shoreline reminded him of the jagged mountains surrounding his hometown. He missed the feel of the Montana air – it even had a cleaner scent than the ocean air did. Sure, the smell of the salty air was refreshing in its way and something Stryder had grown to love, but when you’d been on the back of a horse with the sun beating down on your back and the scent of wheat fields and fresh streams filling you, it was hard to beat with any other sensation on the earth.

Slightly ajar, the window let in the sounds of waves crashing beneath his home onto the rocks below.

He swirled the amber liquid in his crystal glass. He wasn’t sure of the name of his whiskey, only that his butler kept him well-stocked in the smooth alcohol. When he was feeling particularly melancholy, he reached for his secret stash of Wild Turkey – the same as Clint Steel.

Stryder’s cell phone rang, sitting beside his laptop and a dossier on his newest business acquisition. He might be home from a long day at work, but that didn’t mean work had ended. He loved working and he loved that it distracted him from overthinking the events of the last decade.

Moonlight would soon replace the setting sun over the water and Stryder’s favorite time of day would be reflected in the waves. If he stood there long enough with the stars mirrored on the inky surface, he could almost pretend he was standing in a field in Montana with the biggest widest skies spread out around him.

Everyone said the ocean was the grandest thing you’d ever see, make you feel just how small you were. But Stryder knew that was a lie. He’d lived under the Montana skies and his soul ached to feel that complete again, to see the heavens spread out before him with no end in sight.

The call went to voicemail and he blinked. Shoot, he might have gone after the whiskey a little too fast when he’d gotten home. It’d been a hard day and he really just wanted to numb it all away.

His ringer peeled through the silence again and he leaned forward, sobering enough to focus on the call. He swiped the screen. “Stryder.” He kept his tone light but professional, more habit than affectation.

“Mr. Flint, it’s Marcie from Seek Realty. You’re a lucky man. A nice chunk of land bordering your current piece of property in Clearwater County just went on notice. The piece will be up for auction in a month.” The realtor’s perky tone made it easy to make sense of what she was saying.

Stryder angled his head to the side, blinking hard as if everything was fuzzy but truth be told, nothing had been clearer. “Notice?” The only piece of property bordering his family land in Clearwater was the old Steel place. Last he’d checked, it was still owned by the family. “Notice? But that’s not a guarantee the piece will go up. I asked specifically for when they were available or a guarantee.” His hard tone suggested the time was a waste.

Marcie’s tone dimmed enough to add her own level of professional ice. “Yes, sir, I know that. This particular piece is… shall we say, more of a guarantee than anything else. The homeowner has been given plenty of time. The bank has already given foreclosure notice – this isn’t just a standard warning. It’s in foreclosure, unless the back owed amount gets into the bank in the next thirty days. If the piece is sold, then the foreclosure can be avoided. The sum owed to the bank isn’t a small one and compounded with all the fees, this owner doesn’t stand a chance.”

“How do you know this?” Stryder had hired Seek Realty because they were discrete and got things done. He paid them handsomely to find the types of properties he could work with, that he could make money from. They worked within his parameters and he usually didn’t care how they got their information, just so long as they got it.

This time was different. This time the information was directly about her and anything and everything made a difference.

“Well, between you and me, my cousin works at the bank, Wendel. He lets me know on any pieces in the area that you might be interested in.” A smug pride filled her voice.

“Wendel is your cousin? That’s good to know.” Wendel Singhe was married to Two Rides’s busybody wife and between the two of them, there were no small-town secrets. Weasel Wendel had a nickname for a reason.

His information always had panned out, though.

“Let me know if you want it and I’ll move in.” A couple clicks in the background. “Check your email for MLS number. You can see the property but it’s not on the market as of yet. I’m sure we can pull some strings and get things done without that happening. Thanks, Mr. Flint.” Marcie hung up. She knew Stryder didn’t like small talk and didn’t like wasting time. They’d been working together long enough, she knew when the conversation was over.

Stryder dropped his phone to the table and turned his attention to his laptop. He pulled it onto the tops of his thighs and clicked on his email icon. The email was already there. He opened it, grimacing and sipping his whiskey again, welcoming the fire as he swallowed.

Clicking the link Marcie had sent, Stryder refused to believe the Steel place was up for sale. Wendel or Marcie had to be wrong. Nothing else made sense. Maybe the property was on the other side, which again, didn’t make sense. That was national forest land and not usually up for sale. The property had been in the Steel family for generations. They would do anything to keep it.

The page loaded and he blinked, his lips falling open in shock.

Marcie had sent him the unlisted MLS, but it was still the property he knew like his own.

He slowly put his drink down. His pain at breaking his promise, so many promises, ate at him and the alcohol was one he could at least push to the side for the moment.

No. Not the old Steel place. Not when Stryder was just starting to get his act together, or, well, thinking about it. How could he go back to his land if Melody wasn’t living on hers? He couldn’t go back when he was close to labeling himself a drunk. No, he wasn’t an alcoholic, not yet. He had to go back to Two Rides, but not until he was ready. And when he went back, he had to find Melody there.

If she wasn’t there, then what was the point?

Why would the Steel family sell? Clint had never cashed the checks Stryder had sent so Stryder had always assumed he had money and his pride had kept him from depositing the money. The only thing that would make Clint sell was that they had no money. What had gotten so bad that Clint was losing the property?

Stryder pulled up the search engine on his computer and looked for the Two Rides Chronicle. He read it every once in a while to see if Melody would end up in the paper – like in the wedding announcements section.

He had a case of whiskey waiting for that day. He wasn’t stupid. A woman like Melody Steel would be claimed the first chance she let a man stake her as his own. Stryder had tried to be that man, but she was no longer interested.

Stryder clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to think about Melody moving on. The pain was still raw, would probably always be raw.

An obituary with Clint Steel’s name at the top caught Stryder’s eye and he stilled to read it.

 

Clint Steel passed away this last Monday. He was survived by his daughter, Melody, who continues to live at the family ranch.

 

That was it. The obituary was sparse with no mention of what had happened. No mention of Melody’s mom who never came home. Stryder ready the short lines over and over, searching for some clue or hint of what the words weren’t saying which was everything. Had Clint ever stopped drinking? Had Melody found out about anything between Clint and Stryder?

Clint Steel. Dead. Stryder couldn’t believe it. Was that relief or just regret? He hadn’t heard back from Clint in years, but Stryder had always held out hope Melody’s dad was working behind the scenes to convince Melody that Stryder was the man for her. But hope faded and the things Clint had passed along had almost broken Stryder.

Almost. Alcohol had numbed the pain for him but just barely. He had to still function, to work on his empire so he could one day try to get Melody back.

That day had come.

He had to prove to himself he didn’t need to drink. Stryder had seen the alcohol in Clint’s cupboards. In fact, Stryder had stolen his first drink from the Steel stockpile where he’d developed his taste for whiskey. Then Clint had offered him a glass to seal the deal.

Melody had never known. Now that she had lost her father, she was about to lose her family’s place, too. Why? What had happened? The newspaper didn’t say much but taking that information and combining it with the information that Marcy had shared and Stryder could put two and two together.

She was in trouble. No matter what else had happened between them, no matter how much he’d let her down, Stryder couldn’t ignore Two Rides any longer.

Melody was in trouble and it was time for Stryder to go home.