Chapter 33

Tick, tick, tick, tick…

Even now, his palms damp and his heart pounding as he looked at the expectant faces looking back at him, Cole was intensely aware of every second that they weren’t on the road, putting miles behind them. It was ten hours to the next rodeo in southern Utah. Every minute they delayed was a minute of rest lost for the stock.

But this was more important than his schedule, dammit.

What remained of Cole’s crew were waiting in the confines of the rodeo offices—the Leses, Analise, and Cruz. Shawnee grabbed the chair closest to the door. Joe took a seat in the corner, leaving Cole alone at the front of the room, the focus of all those eyes. Waiting for him to say something. The sweat beaded along his hairline and in his armpits. He could feel his face stiffening to the point of cracking, like Play-Doh left out in the hot sun.

He met Shawnee’s gaze. She lifted her pointy eyebrows as if to say, Well? But then she smiled, just a little, and nodded. You can do this.

He drew in a huge breath. The first words gushed out with it. “Mariah and her father have decided not to press charges. However…” Cole had to stop and take another breath. “A law was broken. Analise, Cruz, Shawnee…you were all witnesses. I won’t ask any of you to commit a crime of omission by keeping quiet if your conscience tells you otherwise.”

Chairs squeaked and feet shuffled as glances were exchanged.

“What does the senator say?” one of the Leses asked.

Cole searched through the phrases he’d memorized, trying to anticipate every question or concern. “He is comfortable with their choice.”

Another lengthy silence. Then Analise. “Is Tyrell gone for good?”

“No. He’ll meet us in Utah.”

More silence. More shuffling. Then Cruz piped up. “What happens when Hank’s ready to come back?”

Cole drew another deep breath, forcing himself to look from face to face, meeting every eye in the room. “Hank won’t be coming back to work for Jacobs Livestock.”

What air was left in the room disappeared in one giant inhalation. Cole braced himself for the outrage. Instead, there were only quiet sighs, slow nods, resigned shakes of the head. And, if he wasn’t completely off base, a whisper of relief. Cole had offered up a punishment severe enough to soothe a guilty conscience, without ruining Hank’s life.

Something like grief tore through Cole’s chest. These people had considered Hank one of their own, jumped to his rescue despite his flaws. And now…even if they forgave him, none of them would ever quite feel the same about him.

And Hank would never understand how much he’d lost.

“So that’s it?” Cruz asked, his near-black eyes impenetrable. “Tyrell stays. Hank goes.”

“Yeah.”

Cruz considered for a beat. “Okay,” he said.

No one said another word, but the pact they had made might as well have been carved in stone. We don’t speak of this again.

As they rose and scuffed out the door, Cole propped his elbows on the table, laced his fingers tight together, and stared at the creases in his knuckles. He heard Joe get up and leave and thought he was alone. Then a chair scraped on the dusty wood floor. Shawnee walked over, pulled another chair close to his, and wrapped her arms around him, ignoring Katie’s low growl. They sat that way for a long time, the woman pressed against his shoulder, the dog against his leg. Again something tore inside Cole’s chest, but this time it felt like a good kind of pain. Scar tissue ripping away, giving the soft, tender parts of his heart room to expand.

Shawnee kissed his temple, then stood. “I owed you one.”

* * *

Three hours later, Melanie Brookman’s white SUV whipped into the rodeo grounds and parked behind Cole’s trailer. There was no mistaking the family resemblance. She had the same brown hair, worn long and straight, and the same lean, athletic body, which had made her the defensive player of the year in their high school basketball conference.

But unlike Hank, her brown eyes were sharp, her posture radiating don’t even try to mess with me. A dozen years in the business world had carved away any softness from back when she and Violet had raised their fair share of hell. She didn’t waste a meaningless smile on Cole or Joe when she climbed out of the car.

“I’m taking him home until he’s fit to work again,” she said abruptly.

Hank slouched out of the car, jerked a nod of greeting toward Joe, and mumbled something to his sister. Melanie shot him a quelling glare.

“Come on inside,” Cole said, and led the way to the office.

He dragged over chairs for Melanie and Hank, then took a seat with Joe on the opposite side of the single long table. Melanie eyed them, head up, nostrils flared, like a horse that scented a threat. Hank slumped in his chair and stared at his knees.

There was no sense beating around the bush. “Hank won’t be coming back.”

“You’re firing him?” Melanie came almost out of her chair. “He has a contract!”

“Which has a moral turpitude clause,” Cole said. “You should know. You helped Violet write it.”

“He hasn’t been convicted of a crime,” Melanie shot back. “You have no legal grounds for his dismissal.”

Cole steeled himself against her fury. And worse, the bewildered hurt in Hank’s eyes. “So sue us for breach of contract.”

Melanie opened her mouth. Then she clamped it shut with an audible click of her teeth. Any such suit would require describing the circumstances under which Hank was let go.

“Tha’s bullshit,” Hank slurred, his confusion morphing into anger, with an edge of panic. “I been with you since I was a kid…”

And you still act like one. Cole shook his head, chest aching. “I don’t want to do this, Hank, but you didn’t leave me any choice.”

“I’ll call Steve—”

“We all agree,” Joe broke in. “We warned you at Fort Worth. No more second chances.”

Hank stared at him for a long moment. Then he stood and very deliberately kicked his chair over with a resounding crash. “Go to hell. I don’ need any of you. I can make it jus’ fine on my own.”

Katie bolted to her feet and growled, low and menacing, as he stalked out the door. Cole put a hand on her head and pushed an envelope across the table. “Mariah left this for Hank. That’s the last he’ll hear from her. If he tries to contact her in any way, or so much as mentions her name online or to his friends, Tyrell will reconsider pressing charges.”

Melanie snatched up the letter and stared down at it, her fingers flexing as if she wanted to rip it to shreds. When she spoke, her voice was low, her temper tightly reined. “You’ve made your point. He gets it now. Give him a few weeks to stew, then talk to him about next season. I promise…”

“We can’t, Mel. Not after this. I’m sorry.”

She sat, head bowed, for a long moment. Then she pushed out of the chair and turned to leave without a word.

“I hope he’s right,” Cole blurted.

She paused to glance at him, questioning.

“I hope he goes out and proves to everyone just how good he can be,” Cole said.

Her lips pressed together and her eyes shimmered. She jerked a quick nod, then turned and strode out the door.

Cole dropped his face into his hands, feeling as if he was going to be sick.

“That was impressive,” Joe said.

Cole made a rude noise. “Me and my great people skills.”

“Three years ago you would’ve hightailed it for the border if anyone suggested you should get up in front of the crew and talk.”

“I sounded like an asshole.”

Joe gave an impatient huff. “You left out all the bullshit. That’s what they expect from you. It’s what they needed. And they were ready to follow wherever you led. Like I said, impressive.”

Cole leaned back in his chair and considered Joe. He’d changed too. He was…not softer, but less edgy. Less cocky, more confident. Year by year, more of Steve Jacobs’s dignity seemed to rub off on him.

With any luck, Cole had absorbed a little too. He could always hope.

Joe blew out a gusty breath. “Holy hell, I need a beer.”

“Follow me.”

* * *

Shawnee was dozing on the couch when Melanie slammed into the trailer, scaring the bejeezus out of her.

Melanie punched the closet hard enough that Shawnee feared for her hand. “They fired him!”

“Yep.”

Melanie turned on her, snarling. “You knew?”

“Yep. And for the record, I agree completely.”

“Three days ago he saved your ass!”

Shawnee pushed up on her elbows, still groggy. “And last night I kept him from being hauled away in handcuffs. I’d say we’re even.”

“He did not assault that girl.”

Shawnee swung her feet to the floor and scrubbed both hands through her hair. “She’s sixteen, Melanie.”

“Almost seventeen.” Melanie folded her arms, hip and chin jutting. “And she was all for it. What was he supposed to do?”

“Say no.”

“Oh, right.” Melanie snorted in derision. “How many guys are gonna turn down a girl who looks like that?”

“The ones with a brain?” Shawnee stood up, planted both hands on Melanie’s shoulders, and gave her a shake. “He was one wrong word away from prison, Mel. One word.”

The anger leached out of Melanie’s face, along with some of the color. She knocked away Shawnee’s hands. “I can’t even think about it.”

“Well, Hank had better, or eventually he’s going to screw something up beyond repair.”

Temper sparked in Melanie’s eyes again. “You mean like Wyatt blackballing him?”

“He won’t—”

“Bullshit. Hank told me about Fort Worth. One more screw-up, Wyatt said. We both know he’ll do it if he decides it’s for the greater good, the self-righteous bastard.” Melanie’s lip curled, her eyes going dark with loathing. “You watch. Even if Hank doesn’t set so much as a toe out of line from here on out, every time he tries to take a step up, he’ll get kicked back down again. Wyatt will make sure of it.”

Shawnee wanted to argue. Tell Melanie the truth about what Joe had confessed. But it wasn’t her place to shift the blame to Joe, and she sure as hell didn’t want to be the one who blew up a friendship between Violet and Melanie that had lasted over three decades.

“Did Hank tell you everything that happened last night?” she demanded instead. A shiver of leftover fear raced across her skin. “I watched Cole step in front of a loaded gun to protect Tyrell. I’m gonna keep seeing that in my dreams for a long, long time.”

They stared at each other for several breaths. Then Melanie let out a sour hah. “I’ll be damned. You’re actually sweet on him.”

“I am not!” Shawnee recoiled as if Melanie had taken a swing at her. She regrouped and squared her shoulders. “I respect him. And I hate seeing him beat himself up for something he couldn’t have stopped, short of firing Hank two weeks ago.”

Melanie had the nerve to laugh outright. “Oh my God! You are! You’re in love.”

“Don’t be stupid!”

“Hah! I think that’s my line, sugar pie.” Melanie did a little shimmy and sang, “Shawnee’s in lo-ove, Shawnee’s in lo-ove…”

Panic scorched Shawnee’s veins, leaving behind a scent like burned rubber. She whirled and stomped over to grab a cookie from the bag she’d left out to send with Cole and Joe. “Don’t you have a brother to babysit?”

Melanie went quiet. Then she heaved a huge, tired sigh. “What am I going to do with him?”

“Haul him to the ranch and dump him off?”

“I can’t. Daddy threw him out.”

Shawnee almost dropped her cookie. “When?”

“At the beginning of the summer.” Melanie wandered over to the couch, plunked down, and dropped her face into her hands. “You know Daddy. The ranch is everything, and it’s his way or the highway. They fought every time Hank went on the road instead of staying home to do real work.”

“What about your mom?”

“Same old song, one-millionth verse. All about how she never intended to get stuck being a ranch wife, so she can understand why Hank doesn’t want to spend his whole life staring at the ass end of a bunch of cows. You’d think a woman who was so dead set on being a nurse would’ve had a better grasp of birth control. Not that I’m complaining, obviously.” Melanie twisted the turquoise ring on her right hand. “The three of them had a huge blowout back in May, when Hank showed them his schedule for the summer. Daddy told him if he left, don’t bother to come back. So Hank said fine and walked out. Ma left right behind him. And this time, it’s for good.”

Oh hell. Shawnee grabbed another cookie and walked over to sit beside her. “So you’re stuck with him.”

“Yep.”

“Geezus.” She held out the cookie. “You want a shot of whiskey instead?”

Melanie laughed, a harsh, broken sound. “You don’t know the half of it. On the drive up here from El Paso, I was yelling at him and…” Her face twisted up at the memory. “He cried, Shawnee. Cried. It was all Mariah this, Mariah that…I swear, he really thinks he’s in love with her.”

Son of a bitch. How was Shawnee supposed to stay pissed at him? Stupid Hank was one thing. But heartbroken, homeless, and unemployed Hank…

“I am the goddess of marketing. I can write copy that will make gnarly old ranchers line up to buy tons of calf pellets from an upstart company like Westwind Feeds, but I can’t persuade my own brother that he’s so much better than this.” Melanie blew out a shaky breath and for a horrible moment Shawnee thought she might cry, too. “I didn’t raise him to be this way.”

Shawnee scowled. “You shouldn’t have had to raise him. He had two parents.”

“So did you, and where would you have been without your grandparents? At least Ace had the decency to leave, instead of hanging around making everyone miserable.”

Now, there was what Tori would call some positive spin. “You think Hank would’ve learned some sense if your parents had split?”

“Lord help him.” Melanie scrunched her eyes shut against the thought. “How awful is it that I can’t imagine the poor kid surviving alone with either of them? Daddy would’ve ignored him except when he needed help with the cows, then spent the whole time hollering at Hank for doing it wrong. And Ma would’ve sulked nonstop about how she’s never had a chance to have a life of her own, let Hank run wild, then made excuses for him when he got in trouble.” She heaved a disgusted sigh. “Which is pretty much how it worked when they were together, except with a shitload of snide remarks and cheap shots thrown in. And I just ran off and left him there.”

“You went to college, not the Foreign Legion.”

“And it was wonderful. But I should have…”

“What? Taken him with you?” Shawnee had to resist the urge to grab Melanie and shake her again, but sarcasm was less likely to get her punched in the chops. “You think he’s screwed up now, imagine an eight-year-old living in that crappy apartment with the two of us. Talk about seeing some things that would scar him for life. Just that one night, with the llamas and the rented hot tub…”

For an instant, humor sparked in Melanie’s eyes at the memory. Then she sighed. “I could have gone home more.”

“You deserved your own life, Mel.” If she’d been a different person, Shawnee would’ve patted Melanie’s knee or even put an arm around her. Lord knew she looked like she could use it, and Shawnee had recently gained an appreciation for the restorative powers of a good hug. “Besides, he spent as much time with Violet’s parents as he did with yours. That should’ve done something to set him right.”

Melanie broke her cookie in half. “So I told myself. And kept on telling myself after I graduated and got a town job and steered clear of the ranch as much as I could.”

“Nobody could blame you.”

“I do.” Melanie’s head jerked up, her expression fierce. “I blame me for not staying as close to my brother as possible.”

“Well, look on the bright side. You’re gonna get to see plenty of him now.”

Melanie huffed a laugh, scattering cookie crumbs along with her frustration. “Are you sure you couldn’t talk Cole into taking him back?”

“You know he can’t. And I won’t try, even for you.” Even as repayment for the way Melanie and Violet had stood by her, held her together after Gramps died. “It’s gonna take Cole months to get over this—if he ever does.”

Melanie stopped nibbling her cookie to eye Shawnee. “Can you even hear yourself when you talk about him? You are in it so deep. With Cole.”

Shawnee wanted to shout, sneer, anything to convince them both that Melanie was wrong. But she just stuffed a cookie in her mouth. There was no sense trying to argue with the woman once she got something in that thick skull of hers.

Not to mention, the last thing Shawnee wanted was to look any closer at her feelings for Cole.