“I just don’t want to have to kill anyone,” she said.
He didn’t, either, but what neither of them said but both knew was that they would if they had to.
JINX CONSIDERED RIDING down the mountain and confronting T.D. But they would merely have the same argument. Worse, he’d be with his friends so he’d show off. She couldn’t chance making things worse by embarrassing him in front of them. At this point she had no idea how to handle T.D. He’d gone off the rails and she couldn’t see this ending any way but badly.
She wondered what he had planned. As if he ever planned anything. Maybe he thought he could intimidate her by simply following her up here. If he’d hoped his presence would rattle her, well, it did. She’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop for some time now. T.D. was nothing if not determined. He wouldn’t give up. Now more than ever he had to save face with his buddies and everyone else in the county. Too bad he didn’t put that kind of determination into a job.
She thought of T.D.’s father and what little he’d told her about him in a weak moment. The man had sounded horrible, which she knew could explain partially at least why T.D. was the way he was. He saw himself as a victim. Right or wrong, he believed his actions, no matter what they were, were warranted.
Like now, it was clear that he felt he had to do something to make this right when this was the worst thing he could do. But there would be no reasoning with him. The only thing she could control were her own actions. Keep fighting T.D.? Or give in?
Giving in meant putting the ranch up for sale. She couldn’t afford to borrow against it, not when she knew that she and Max couldn’t run it by themselves.
Before her father died, he’d seen the handwriting on the wall. “I’m getting too old to do this anymore,” he’d told her. “Even if T.D. was worth his salt, this place takes more hired hands than we can afford. It’s why so many families are selling out. Even the ones with a half dozen sons who could run the place are being sold because younger folk want more out of life than feeding cattle when it is twenty below zero, calving in a blizzard or branding in a dust storm or pouring rain.”
“We’ve done all of that and survived,” she’d argued. “I love this life. I’m not ready to give it up.”
“It’s dying, Jinx. I need you to promise me that when I’m gone, you’ll put the place up for sale and move on with your life.”
She hadn’t been able to do that. “I’ll try.” That was all she’d said that time and then again later when her father was on his deathbed. He’d known how hard it would be on her to let go of the ranch—especially being forced to by her soon-to-be ex-husband. The property settlement was the only thing holding up her freedom. But if it meant giving up the life she loved, what kind of freedom was that?
She’d already been offered a fair price for her herd—if she got the cattle to summer grazing land. She wouldn’t even have to bring them back down in the fall. Also, there were several ranchers around, interested in her place. A local Realtor had come out not long after Jinx’s father’s death.
“With what you’d make off the ranch, you could do anything you’ve ever dreamed of,” the woman had said.
“What if running this ranch is what I’ve dreamed of?” Jinx had asked her.
The woman had nodded and given her a pitying look. “Then I guess your dream has come true.” She’d handed Jinx her card. “In case your dream changes,” she’d said and left.
WYATT SMELLED DINNER cooking and felt his stomach roil.
“You goin’ to have one?” Travis asked. T.D. had put him in charge of the food they would need. “Just a couple of days’ worth. Keep it simple,” T.D. had said foolishly.
“Hot dogs again?” Wyatt asked.
“Hey, T.D. said to keep it simple. I cut you a stick to cook yours on. What more do you want?”
Real food, he wanted to say. Like his mother cooked every night. He picked up the stick with the sharp end Travis had whittled with his pocketknife and looked around. “Where’s T.D.?” Travis shrugged. Digging a hot dog out of the insulated pack, he wondered how long they could survive on hot dogs, cookies and trail mix. Not long since the supply was dwindling fast.
“Maybe he changed his mind.” Travis sounded hopeful.
Like him, Wyatt figured Travis was ready to get off this mountain. It was cold at night this time of year and hot during the day. They’d spent hours in the saddle following Jinx and her herd of cattle, only to stop when Jinx did and make camp below the mountain. T.D. had done nothing but drink and complain about his soon-to-be ex-wife. Hopefully, this foolishness would be over soon because they were running out of food and now they had Royce to feed, as well.
Speaking of the devil, the wrangler ambled out of the woods. “I’ll take one of those,” Royce said of the hot dogs. Travis pointed at the stick he’d made him. “Where’s T.D.?”
They both shrugged. Wyatt saw that his hot dog was pretty much black and pulled it out of the fire. Travis tossed him a bun and a plastic squeeze container of mustard.
“You have any ketchup?” Royce asked.
“We’re roughin’ it,” Travis said. “It’s mustard or nothing. We didn’t know we’d have...company.”
Royce laughed at that. “Well, when the fireworks start, you’re going to be glad you have my company.”
Wyatt shared a look with Travis. What had T.D. told Royce? Fireworks? He didn’t like the sound of this.
At the sound of a twig breaking off to their right, they all froze for a moment.
