CHAPTER 79

west

JACKSON: Fuck Colter Lexington

JACKSON: And what a stupid fucking name.

JACKSON: This asshole doesn’t just want to fucking sponsor me. He wants to buy out Double Arrow. It ain’t enough this fucker is taking my goddamn business, but he has the fucking audacity to tell me that I’m a threat to his business.

JACKSON: Fuck, I’m pissed.

JACKSON: Sorry for unloading. I hope you’re doing okay. Can I call you tonight?

I left him on read—not that he could see. Could he? I didn’t know how this whole flip-phone-to-smartphone conversion thing went. Tech wasn’t my thing. Besides, I had other shit I needed to focus on.

“Thanks, Mick,” I said as I slid out of the old man’s truck and slung my bag over my shoulder.

“Anytime, boy,” Mickey replied. Leaning on the door, I faced him.

“You going to be okay?” I asked. “If it’s going to be too much work—”

“Boy, you left a goddamn binder on how to care for those horses of yours,” he interrupted with a laugh. “We’ll be just fine without you.”

I nodded slowly, still uneasy about the whole thing. Doubt had snuck its way in on the ride away from the ranch.

“Peter’s got your number,” Mickey reassured me. “And he’s goin’ to be blowin’ you up with all the updates.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay,” I murmured. I drew in a sharp breath and adjusted my bag on my shoulder. “Thanks again, Mick.”

“I’ll be seein’ you, boy.” He tipped his hat, and I shut the door. I tapped the hood of his truck as he backed out, leaving me alone.

I could fucking do this. There was a good chance I was going to piss off Jackson in the process, considering the responsibilities he’d left me with. It felt shitty to hand them off to someone else.

I swallowed the guilt and forced myself to follow the dirt drive around the side of an old farmhouse to where the stables sat out back. A semi-truck blocked the view, and I stopped to watch as another horse was loaded into the back.

“When Mickey told me he knew just the guy for the job, I never in a million years would’ve guessed that he’d be dropping West McNamara on my farm.” Rich Matteson stepped out from the truck. He wiped his hands on his thighs while I forced an acceptable smile. “You’re looking good, kid.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“How have you been?” he asked.

Fuck, I hated that question. It was just another way for nosy small-town folk to gossip. While Rich and his farm weren’t technically in Wood Springs, all the small towns in the area were entwined. Rich ran the only equestrian farm in the area. Jackson’s mom had bought quite a few horses from him over the years. I had no doubt he knew more about me than he was letting on.

“You know,” I replied vaguely. I tossed my bag on the front seat of the truck and went about inspecting the inside of the trailer. Seven horses were comfortably loaded in their own stalls with water and hay at the ready.

“Are you good to handle a job like this?” Rich continued, thankfully not pushing my lack of an answer. “Hauling horses is a big deal. I used to do it, but my back just isn’t what it used to be anymore. It’s just easier for me to fly these days.”

“It’s a little over eight hours to Reno from here,” I told him to show I’d done my fucking research. “I’ll have to stop about every three hours to take care of the horses. Depending on where we stop, I’ll try to get each one out to move around even just a little. I’d say it’ll take no less than ten hours to get out there. With the late start, I’m looking at getting in around midnight. Maybe later.”

“My flight doesn’t land until seven tomorrow,” he said.

“I won’t leave the horses,” I replied. “But they shouldn’t stay in the trailer that long.”

“The coordinators will have places for you to unload the animals. They’ve got people arriving all day and night, today and tomorrow,” he assured me. “All you’ve got to do is stay with them until I get there.”

“And keep you updated along the way.”

“And keep me updated along the way.”

“Sounds good,” I said. In silence, I helped him close everything up. Even though I knew what I was doing, I let him show me how everything worked anyway. It was more for him than me. Only when he was certain that I was good to go, did I start toward the cab.

“West,” Rich called after me, “I’m real glad you left when you did.”

I stopped, his words striking something deep. With a frown, I faced him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked.

“You didn’t deserve Harrison, kid.” The sadness in his expression was a slap to the face .

“Are you telling me you knew what Harrison was doing?”

“The whole lot of us had a good understanding of the kind of man your father was,” he answered quietly. The whole lot of them? Who the fuck was the whole lot of them? “I think that’s why so many of us let you two get away with so much shit back in the day. Better that than telling him what you were up to when we didn’t know what he’d do, you know?”

My jaw clenched tight as I nodded slowly. What the fuck was wrong with all of them? Something inside me frayed further apart. I was so fucking over their bullshit. I was real tired of hearing how everyone had known what Harrison was up to. And yet, no one fucking cared. I kept telling myself there was nothing no one could’ve done—that it was pointless to get mad—but the longer I dealt with this shit, the harder it was to hang onto that train of thought.

“Yeah, well maybe you should’ve done something. The whole lot of you ,” I snapped without remorse. “The only fucking reason I left this goddamn place was because Harrison tried to kill me. But yeah, letting me get away with shit was real fucking helpful, so give yourself a goddamn pat on the back for that, why don’t you?”

Rich looked fucking uncomfortable with the admission. Good. He fucking deserved it. They all did.

“I’m hitting the road, Rich,” I said, unable to give him any more of me. “I’ll update you at the first stop.”

Not giving him a chance to say a damn thing, I climbed into the truck and got situated. The drive to Reno was a long one, and I didn’t want to waste another minute with Rich and the bullshit he dredged up.