Chapter Eleven

Jesse

A week off the road doing nothing but working on the ranch was starting to really pay off. It was good for me to occasionally get back to my roots and do the things I’d been doing since birth. It wasn’t like the ranch couldn’t use my help, either. Luke was busy with the running of the family business and doing whatever Amber asked of him to prepare for the wedding. Collin was always more of the bookish one and did all the paperwork for us, but when he was out on the field, he had a tendency to space out. Logan was a fireman for the county and often wasn’t around, and Owen was the baby of the family, much more concerned with the animals and whatever it was he did in his off time.

Luke had been awfully permissive lately about us taking time off. Usually, he was much more of a hard-liner, invoking memories of our father and his stern approach to Family First when it came to work and play. But with his impending nuptials, I guessed he just was a little easier to deal with both because he was distracted and overwhelmed, but also because he was finally getting laid on a regular basis.

It probably didn’t hurt that Amber seemed to be a fan of my music. While I had toned down the rock elements a bit when I played Crockett’s, it was still very much my style, and even Luke seemed to enjoy it, which was a first. Usually, he reacted to any music from the last twenty-five years with a disdain that had ‘get off my lawn’ energy. Either Amber made him a little more receptive to life in general, or her influences were starting to rub off on him. Maybe both. Either way, I was just glad to see my brother happy, and a small part of me was selfishly happy to see him not think my music was crap.

Being able to pursue music had been a sticking point in our relationship for a while. He’d thought it was just a phase when I was younger, then tried to convince me that there was no future in it as I got older, that working on the ranch was reliable and helped the family. That music was a fun hobby but not something I could bank on.

I guess I’d worn him down. Either that or he just got tired of arguing with me. But the crowd at Crockett’s should have shown him that I had become a bigger deal than he thought, and if he had seen the crowd in Dallas, I was sure he’d be impressed.

Today, Luke and Collin were in town, filing taxes or some such thing that I’d forgotten ten seconds after they told me. Whatever it was, it sounded boring. Logan was at work as well, though he’d dropped by this morning to help out and said he would be able to drop by after work if there were no calls.

That left me and Owen.

Thankfully, Owen was up at dawn to take care of the animals, leaving me to roam around looking for something to do. There was always something to keep you busy, and I just needed something mindless to do so I could mentally check out. I found writing music, especially lyrics and main melodies, were a lot easier if I spent a little time on the ranch doing anything except music. By the end of a week, I was usually brimming with ideas and little hooks that got stuck in my head, partial verses and choruses that I’d hum under my breath until I wrote them down and brought them to life for the first time.

Around lunch, I broke out the old acoustic and sat down in the kitchen alone to pick at it a bit. It had been Dad’s, and one of the few things we’d had in common was our talent for guitar. Dad was a godawful singer, from what I remembered, but he could play an acoustic like a madman. I remembered sitting by his feet and watching him pick his way through a bluegrass tune that sounded so good I thought for sure he was secretly a world-famous musician and he just wasn’t telling us.

He gave me my first guitar when I was seven, a tiny little thing that was light enough for me to wear pretty much non-stop around my neck. I noodled with it day and night, never letting it out of my sight for more than a few minutes to go to the bathroom. By the time I was old enough for an adult-sized guitar, I’d mastered playing most chords and had learned a ton of songs by ear.

Dad was supportive of me learning but figured it would be the same as him. He’d break out his guitar if we had friends or family over, playing a few tunes while everyone sang along, or he’d be called on to play a wedding or a funeral on occasion. He always took those very seriously, but not as a performance. It was a ritual thing for him. He took it seriously because he was asked to do it, not because he wanted glory.

When I told him one day that I wanted to sing professionally, he didn’t express any emotion, simply nodding and clearing his throat.

“Horse stalls need to be mucked out,” he’d said. “Horse stalls will always need to be mucked out. Keep that in mind.”

And I did. I worked as hard as I could on the ranch every day, and when I was done, I spent my entire night playing guitar. When I was sixteen, I started going around with girls, but even then, my guitar was with me. And once in a while, I’d be in the living room and Dad would pull out that old acoustic I’d played at lunch and we’d duet a few old western tunes before he’d head to bed.

After a long day of work on the farm, tilling and preparing for the winter crop and working on the roof of the shed outside of the horse barn, I was wiped out and decided to take a little siesta in my favorite spot. The horse barn’s second floor was full of hay and a few tools and things we might need for the horses but didn’t want to clutter up the space with. A little roof area along the back of the house faced west, and a door opened up onto it for airflow. I loved going out and lying on that roof, watching the sun set and the stars appear. Sometimes I’d drift off to sleep up there for a while, which, while dangerous, were some of the best naps I’d ever had.

Facing west also meant I could see the Millers’ farm in the distance, down the road. There was a sharp curve between the two homes, but their farm rested at the top of a bit of a hill, making it visible from our front door and from the west side of the barn. Sometimes I’d see Hessa, Mrs. Miller’s favorite cow, lurking along the fence that she’d tried to escape from earlier this year.

The quiet and darkness of the evening was broken by a short, loud whoop of an alarm and flashing blue lights.

Crap. I knew what that meant.

I lifted my head from the makeshift pillow of a pile of hay I’d made and peered over the edge to see if they were in our yard. As I looked toward our front door, I caught sight of the lights in the distance and followed them to where they were coming from. The Millers’.

Anger boiled in my stomach immediately. I hadn’t forgotten what they’d done to me a few months ago, and I still hadn’t gotten revenge for it. Luke had told me I needed to let it go, that Arn might have learned his lesson and that we needed to give them some space. But I knew that was just giving them time to lick their wounds. They’d be back. Looked like they were already starting.

With Luke gone to town with Collin, that meant Amber might be alone over there at the Millers’ place. Without Luke, the only person there to defend her would be her dad, who was still recovering from his health issues and wasn’t in shape for a fight with an Anderson.

By the time I got back into the barn, down the steps and to the side door of the house, Owen was already in the living room, putting on his boots.

“You call Luke?” he asked.

“Nah,” I said. “This one’s gonna be just us.”

“Ah, shit,” Owen said. “I got practice tonight. I can’t be dealing with this.”

“Practice?”

Owen shook his head, grimacing. He didn’t want to talk about it, whatever it was. Considering I often disappeared to practice myself, I really didn’t have the right to argue with him. I shrugged.

“All right then,” I said. “Maybe it’s something simple. If we just show up, they might scatter. Come on.”

“Let’s hope so,” Owen said. “I know the girls are there.”

“The girls?”

“Yeah, Amber has her bridesmaids over.”

“Wait,” I said, my heart thudding in my chest. “You mean Charlotte is over there right now?”

Owen shrugged. “I would think so,” he said. “She’s one of the bridesmaids. Luke was saying something about her coming into town for tonight, which is why he went with Collin into town. Amber was going to be busy.”

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered. “You bringing anything?”

“Anything?” he asked, confused.

“A weapon,” I said. “It’s the Andersons. They’ve got guns.”

“Yeah, but they don’t use them,” he said. “They aren’t that stupid. If they pulled a gun, that’d be the end of them, and they know it. Besides, if we roll up there packing, that’s us escalating.”

“I guess,” I said, my teeth set on edge as I waited for him to finish getting his shit together.

“Look,” he said, “you make sure Charlotte’s all right, and I’ll talk to the Andersons. I’m bigger than all of them, they won’t try anything on me. I can get the situation calmed down, all right?”

“Yeah, all right,” I said. “Let’s go, Owen. You’re taking a long damn time.”

“Perfection ain’t quick,” he said, grinning. “It’s going to be fine, Jesse. Chill out.”

“I’ll chill out when they are gone, and I know the girls are fine. Luke’d kill us if something happened to Amber and we didn’t stop it.”

“I don’t think Amber is your main concern right now,” he quipped. “Is she?”

“Let’s just go,” I said.