Chapter Twenty-Four - Westin

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

WESTIN

"Do you know if Clint ever beat on Keira?"

Sovereign looks up. We're knee deep in the river, pulling mud and branches from the low water. The summer burned up all the deep parts, and we haven't had the autumn rains yet. Now, we're relying on rain barrels for the upper pastures that can't access the pond.

We're both soaked in sweat and creek water. I spit, trying to get the grit from my teeth.

"The fuck?" Sovereign says.

"I said—"

"I heard you," he says. "But why ask that?"

I shrug. Since the night Keira arrived, Sovereign has been distracted. He works, we talk, but he's always up in that room with her, in his head. I don't begrudge him being in love—he deserves it after all this time—but that hasn't stopped me from worrying over the possibility of what the Garrisons are capable of.

"You think Thomas is just as mean as Clint?"

Sovereign's jaw works. "No, Thomas is a pussy. And as far as I know, Clint never hit her. He was always too manipulative to be that straightforward."

"I assumed psychological torture was his preferred method," I say .

Sovereign nods. I can tell he doesn't like talking about this, and I don't blame him. I fall silent, and he goes back to pulling debris and tossing it on the shore. After a while, I feel like enough time has passed to start bothering him with questions again.

"Do you know Corbin Buchanan?"

"What's that?" Sovereign takes his hat off and runs his hand over his hair.

"I said, do you know Corbin Buchanan?"

Sovereign squints. "He's a city official," he says.

"He's in charge of the new highway getting put in west of us," I say. "And the access roads around it."

"Sounds correct," he says.

He turns, dragging a log from the water and rolling it up the bank. I follow him, standing back to watch the river start flowing again. We both sink down, taking off our hats, to get a drink. Sovereign hands me a water bottle and takes out a pack of cigarettes.

"I think he's cousin to the Garrisons, but not blood," he says. "I don't have any direct dealings with him. As long as he's not fucking with Sovereign Mountain, he's fine."

We have a smoke in silence.

Finally, Sovereign lets out a short sigh. "I'd better get back," he says. "I told Keira I wouldn't be late today."

The world didn't change much when he brought Keira to Sovereign Mountain. She's quiet, and I rarely see her except during meals. They spend most of their free time alone. It grates on me that he got his girl and I'm still high and dry, someone else's wedding ring on Diane's hand.

Sovereign has a deep, enduring disgust for infidelity. His first love's faithlessness scarred him so deeply that he wasn't willing to touch Keira until Clint was cold seven months in the ground. If he knew what I did with Diane, he'd never look at me the same.

All my excuses sound like bullshit. He won't believe that Thomas agreed to an open marriage. I barely believe it myself.

I drop my head .

"How long are you expecting to let the Garrison brothers live?" I ask, keeping my voice casual.

"Why?" His forehead creases.

"I don't think it's good to let this go on forever."

Sovereign shrugs, getting to his feet. "It's better to kill them during the winter, but I may wait longer—I don't want heat from the authorities. It hasn't been long enough since we took out Clint."

He has a point, but God, it kills me inside. We don't speak as we gather our things and take Rocky and Shadow back down to the barn. We finish up chores, and I head to the gatehouse.

In my office, I get a cold beer from the fridge and flip my laptop open. I don't know if I have it in me to wait until Thomas is dead. I need to find a way to get Diane out and save her farm now. It seems like locating Corbin Buchanan and seeing if he's willing to talk business is the best idea.

Three days later, I put on my good hat, the one where the SMR logo still shines gunmetal gray, and take the truck into the city. It's not my favorite place; maybe I like it even less than Sovereign does. It takes me an hour to find parking, then another hour to get into the city building. The streets are more crowded than I remember, but then, I haven't come into the city in months.

A woman with neat blonde hair tucked into a bun sits at the front desk. Before I can say why I'm here, she points me through the scanners. I go through security and head up to where the stairs are split. At the top is the room where they hear city meetings. I've been here once or twice for zoning hearings and the like.

It's quiet when I push open the door and slip in. Right at the front of the room is a long table with four men and a woman seated at it. My eyes flick over the name plates until I get to the one I'm looking for—Mr. Corbin Buchanan.

I sink into the back seat and study him. He's older than Sovereign and me, by maybe five years. His hair is black and his skin light beige, some salt and pepper in his beard. I can't tell if he's from around here, but if I had to guess, he is. I make a mental note to start sorting through his past .

The meeting isn't anything I'm interested in—parking meters, city parks, that kind of thing—but I wait until the end, watching Mr. Buchanan talk.

He's confident; I can tell he's got money. There's an aura of assurance around men who've never wondered where their next meal was coming from. He has a little bit of the Garrisons in his face, even though he's not blood. Maybe it's my bias talking, but I see it in the hint of arrogance.

I flick my eyes over his body. His suit is tailored. His boots are leather. The hat that sits on the table before him is a fine, dark material.

I narrow my gaze. I think I might not like Corbin Buchanan too well.

The meeting concludes. I wait until the room is cleared and the last person follows Corbin out. Then, I put on my hat and follow him out into the hall.

"Mr. Buchanan," I say.

He turns, a line appearing between his brows. "Hello. Can I help you with something, sir?"

I hold out my hand. He shakes it.

"Westin Quinn," I say. "I'd like to talk to you."

He glances over his shoulder. His assistant waits at the end of the hall.

"Do you want to make an appointment?" he asks.

"I'm from Sovereign Mountain," I say. "I wanted to talk to you."

He freezes. "Oh, is that right?"

"Yeah, that's right."

He goes from being a friendly stranger to eyeing me with distrust. "Sovereign Mountain, huh? Did your boss send you down here?"

I shake my head, taking a step in. We're about the same height.

"The access road you had planned to put through Carter Farms—are you putting a stop to it?" I ask.

The open, easy aura dries up fast. Of course it does; he's part of the Garrison family. I square up to him, our eyes meeting. His jaw ripples as he grits his teeth .

"That's not anything I'm talking about with you," he says.

"I'm not here for trouble," I say, keeping my voice low.

He shrugs. "You know who I am. Hell will freeze over before I do business with Sovereign Mountain, but you give your regards to your boss. I don't have anything against him personally."

When he says that, his face is a little less grim. I see my opening, and I take it.

"Look, I don't have anything against you," I say. "The Sovereign-Garrison feud doesn't have anything to do with me."

"Doesn't have much to do with me either," he says. "But they're family."

"I get it," I say. "My business is separate. I just want to know what you intend to do with Carter Farms in regard to the access road."

He shifts his weight, crossing his arms. He doesn't trust me, but I wouldn't either.

"I can't tell you anything about Carter Farms," he says. "That's private business."

"I just want to know if stopping the road is a done deal," I say.

His eyes narrow. "How do you know so much?"

"I know David Carter."

"Then you should ask him."

I bite back my retort. It's clear I won't get anywhere with Corbin today. He has already got a built-in distrust of me, so I take a step back.

"I'd be happy to talk again, Mr. Buchanan," I say.

His forehead creases with annoyance. "I don't take bribes."

We both know that's not true. He's not telling me he doesn't take bribes, he's saying he won't take them from Sovereign Mountain.

"I wouldn't dream of thinking you would," I say. "Thanks for your time, Mr. Buchanan. I look forward to speaking to you again."

There's a gentle threat in those last words. He'll see me again, like or not. He gives me a quick nod. His brow is knitted like he's confused, but he's soon swept away into the other room by his assistant. I head outside and move down the street towards my truck.

Come hell or high water, I'm getting Diane that farm .

If Corbin doesn't take bribes, maybe he needs to go the way of Clint Garrison. A hand extended in a white flag. An unexpected meeting. An unexplained accident.

A gunslinger who doesn't miss.

A problem solved.