Chapter Thirty-Nine - Westin

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

WESTIN

The morning comes late, as it does in the dead of winter. Outside, the world is frozen in brutal cold. Inside, my bedroom is warm, but the floor is covered in shrapnel from the night before.

I sit on the edge of the bed, shoulders tense. She sleeps, nothing visible but her blonde hair. The edges of my brand itch. It hasn't itched in years.

My head is a mess.

The gunslinger is quick.

The gunslinger can kill without hesitation.

The gunslinger can't protect his woman.

My head drops, my shoulders hunch. I've never felt such rage. All the things she said to me echo in my ears, all the clues I missed.

I should have killed them a long time ago. I should have burned their homes to the ground and shot them while they fled.

I didn't.

Now, God as my witness, I will make sure there's nothing left of David Carter when I'm done.

I want him in fucking pieces, but I have to be smart about it.

There are too many bodies already. When I kill him, it has to be untraceable .

She sleeps. The only thing I can think of to do is get her horses back from Carter Farms. If luck is on my side, David won't be there by the time I arrive. I can't think of anything else to help put her heart back together. So, I go out and put the trailer on my truck and get on the road.

First, I make a detour and head to the capitol building. Corbin Buchanan will be there, and I plan to have a more honest talk with him this time around, maybe let him know I'm not above threats.

There's a gathering of men outside the meeting room doors upstairs. They stand around, hats on their heads, thick coats pulled over their suit jackets.

Corbin Buchanan is by the open door, leaning on the wall. There's a tall man in a dark cowboy hat and work clothes standing with his back to me, to Corbin's left. They're talking like they're friendly, but I taste friction in the air. As I draw near, Corbin looks up and narrows his eyes.

They both turn. My eyes fall on the second man, and my stomach sinks.

Jesus Christ, it's Deacon Ryder.

It has been a while since that motherfucker came this far east. At least, that I know of; I haven't heard his name lately. Deacon is the only man who makes Sovereign begrudgingly stop and listen when he talks. They're not so dissimilar, him and Deacon. They're both rough sons of bitches, with heads so hard they could break rocks with them.

Deacon glances over once. His jaw works. His broad body, as big as Sovereign but with more grace, takes up space with purpose. His dark hair is shorn with a little left on top. His features are harsh, his jaw square, his thick nose crooked in the middle. Over every visible inch of his body are scars and ink, faded from working in the sun.

He's a mean motherfucker, and I pity the woman who ends up in his bed.

Black eyes fall on me. Deacon extends his hand, and I shake it.

"Why are you here, Ryder?" I say.

He shrugs. "I'm not banned from Montana. Yet. "

"That's a fucking shame."

Corbin's eyes bounce back and forth. "You two know each other?"

He's refined when I see him like this, alongside Deacon. I open my mouth to answer but stop short.

I'm so fucking angry. My brain tells me to try to find a way this can be solved without a bullet. My heart tells me that Deacon Ryder might be here for a reason, and I should speak with him first.

"Excuse us," I tell Corbin.

I step back, jerking my head. Deacon lifts his brows, but he follows me as I head down to the second landing on the steps

"Why are you in the city?" I ask.

He shrugs. "I got some business."

"You want to go steal some horses?" I ask.

Deacon shakes back his sleeves, exposing a chipped silver watch with a leather band. "I don't have shit to do until noon, so yeah."

We head out, but Deacon has to stop at a street vender for a coffee. Then, we get into my truck with the trailer attached and pull back onto the highway. It's thirty minutes to Carter Farms, and we're both quiet. The cab smells like black coffee and boot oil. My mouth tastes bitter..

The silence is loud. The last time we ran into each other was at a BDSM club in Wyoming. I was on a trip and had time to kill, so I went to blow off some steam. Deacon was there, and we made uncomfortable eye contact before I decided to head out early.

I cleared my throat. "You still with that blonde girl?"

He shook his head. "She was a redhead, but no."

There's another silence. Deacon finishes his coffee and crushes the cup in his fist. I turn off the highway onto the state route.

"You got anybody?" Deacon asks.

"Yeah," I say. "The owner of the horses I'm about to steal."

His forehead creases. "You stealing your own girl's horses?"

"Her brother has them."

"And the brother won't be at the house?"

"Not this time of day."

"Makes sense. Too bad. I was hoping we could fuck somebody up. "

My mind goes back to last night, to the memory of her broken body in my arms, shaking as she told me what they did to her. My knuckles tighten. Deacon glances over, and his brow rises.

"Oh, the brother's in for it, huh?" he says. "What'd he do?"

I run a hand through my hair. My eyes stay on the road.

"She was married to Thomas Garrison. He beat her, and her brother stood there and watched."

Deacon shakes his head. "Sounds like you should fuck him up."

I nod, jaw tight. "Yeah, I plan on it."

"I'll help. Sounds like fun." Deacon rolls his jaw again. "You said she was married to a Garrison? The younger one?"

I nod again.

"Well, those motherfuckers are dead," he says. "Everyone heard, everyone knows who did it, but I'd guess with the gunslinger on his payroll, they won't catch nobody."

I pull off the state route to a gravel lane. The road leading to Carter's Farm is clear of snow, and I push my foot down a little harder.

"I didn't do it," I say.

"Sovereign?"

I shrug.

Deacon grins, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "And you both got their women. Not suspicious."

"You know about Keira?" I ask.

"Yeah, everyone knows he fucks her," Deacon says, stretching his legs out. "That story spread up and around like wildfire. All the church ladies had their panties all knotted up over that shit."

I wasn't aware Sovereign Mountain had made it into the town's gossip column. We pull up on the road that overlooks Carter Farms. I get out, and he does the same, circling the truck.

"You don't go to church, Ryder," I say.

He cocks his head. "Maybe I do."

"Do you get hit by lightning every time you walk in?"

He laughs, taking a cigarette from his pocket. "Surprisingly, no. "

"What? You going because you're pussy whipped for a some church girl?" I say, not meaning it seriously.

His jaw works again. He drags his cigarette but doesn't answer. I put mine in my lip and circle the truck to take the rifle out of the back. I pull the hard cover over the truck's bed, bracing the weapon on top.

"You shooting somebody?" Deacon asks.

I settle my eye up to the scope, but my hat bumps into it, so I take it off, setting it aside.

"Checking for cameras," I say.

We're both silent. Carter Farms is quiet, the snow tamped down by footprints. Through the scope, I scour the sides of the barn and the edges of the house. It takes a second, but I find it: a security camera pointing at the house. It looks brand new.

I shift an inch to the side, take a quick breath, and squeeze the trigger. It kicks into my shoulder, and the camera explodes through the lens.

"Fuckin' hell, gunslinger," Deacon says. "I need to hire you next time I need a motherfucker gone. It's unsettling what you can do."

That word is a punch to the gut, but I brush it off and lift my head.

"I'm not for hire," I say.

"You ever need work, though, call me."

I put my eye to the scope and keep looking. Just as I'm about to lift my head, I see a sliver of another camera. David must have put those in after Diane left, probably realizing how easy it was for someone to just walk in. I shift everything an inch over.

The camera is barely traceable, even with the scope.

I inhale and let it seep out. I think I feel the sun on the back of my neck. Cicadas trill. My father's eyes are narrowed, his arms crossed. He's watching me, telling me that men don't miss.

My heart knows where the bullet needs to go.

I squeeze. The camera shatters.

"Jesus," Deacon mutters .

I comb over the house and barn, but there's nothing else. Deacon stubs out his cigarette and stands in the open truck door, waiting as I pack up the gun and scope. He puts his hat on.

"Let's go get your woman's horses," he says.

I nod, swinging back into the truck. We're both quiet as we head around the access road that leads to the driveway. After a while, Deacon clears his throat.

"That girl you got… Does she get it?" he asks.

"Get what?"

"Does she like what you like?"

I know right away what he means. Surprised, I glance over at him and find his eyes fixed out the window. We've never talked about our sex lives before.

"Is this about the church girl?" I say, deflecting.

He shrugs.

There's a short silence. I laugh, shaking my head.

"So you're not pussy whipped, huh?" I say.

"Can't be if I haven't had it," he says.

"How long have you been waiting on it?" My interest is piqued.

"Not important," he says, and I know it has probably been weeks.

We pull up, and I circle the trailer so the end is closer to the barn door. There's no one home that I can see, so it seems best we get in and out without causing a fuss. I step out, and Deacon does the same. He squints over at the house.

"Does the brother have a woman here?" he asks.

I scan the yard and house. "Maybe, but it doesn't look like anyone's home now."

Deacon takes out his gun, checking the chamber. He pushes it in his belt and puts his hat on. I circle the truck and head to the barn, pulling the door open. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the dim interior, but when they do, I see what we've come for.

Gracey and Sunshine lean out of their stalls, staring with wide, glassy eyes.

"That there's the horses," I say, jerking my head .

Deacon follows me in, grabbing two halters and lead ropes from the bin by the door. The horses are wary, but they come as we usher them from the barn and into the trailer. For a second, I consider letting the rest of the horses out and lighting a match.

But no, that would break Diane's heart. As much as I hate David and want to hurt him, I have to remember that she's the most important thing in all of this.

Back in the passenger seat, Deacon is having another cigarette. I scan the barn and house one more time, but everything is eerily quiet as I swing back into the truck. I turn the key, the engine revs, and we're headed back down the drive and onto the road.

But my heart is pounding slow and heavy.

I wanted him to be there.

I wanted to kill him, to hurt him the way he hurt her—with my bare hands. A bullet in the head is too neat and merciful. David Carter doesn't deserve my mercy.

He deserves my rage.

Deacon and I go back into the city. He wants to talk, so I park, leaving the horses waiting with hay from the back of the truck. We end up in a diner, at the street corner. We both have black coffee and breakfast. I wait until he finishes his food and brushes off his hands.

"I got a problem," he says. "Corbin Buchanan and Vince Cassidy are pushing at the border of my land."

"Vince Cassidy the real estate developer?" I ask.

He nods. "They're gonna try to price me out."

"So don't sell."

He sighs. "He's got oil guys with him."

I take a beat. Real estate developers are one thing. Big oil and gas is a many-headed beast we don't have the resources to take on.

"What's your plan?" I say.

He shrugs. "It appears to me that Vince Cassidy is the one pushing this, and Corbin Buchanan is his puppet in the government. He's trying to run a highway through the South Platte area to get access to everything west of it—my land. "

I lean forward. "Corbin Buchanan is planning on putting an access road through Carter Farms so he can bring materials up to build the highway. I need to find a way to stop him. It sounds like we could work on this together."

He thinks it over. "What's your plan?"

"I don't have one," I say. "The snow will hold off any construction, but when it gets warm and they approve the permits, they'll start."

"You want Carter Farms?"

"My girl wants it," I say. "It's hers."

He laughs once, shaking his head. "Talk about pussy whipped, huh?"

I don't answer. He's not wrong.

"Her brother lives there now," I say. "He'llhave to sell now that the Garrisons are dead. He's in a corner; he's got no other alternative. I'm not sure why he hasn't sold yet."

"Want me to have a word with the lady in the permit office?" Deacon says.

I consider it. "Sure. I've got a feeling she'd take a check for kicking the can down the road. Give us a few more months of time."

"They always do."

I think back to how Sovereign and I pulled off Clint Garrison's death so cleanly, all the bribes and threats handed out to the lawyer, the coroner, the judge. It worked, and he got his girl. Maybe I can get mine that way too.

"We gotta cut off the people who are facilitating this shit at the source," Deacon says.

He's right, but I need time to figure out how. I sit back and put some bills on the table, picking up my hat.

"I don't want to leave the horses long," I say. "You come up to Sovereign Mountain, and we'll talk about this with Sovereign."

He nods. "Will do."

I leave him there and head back to the truck. My mind whirls all the way to the general store, where I go to get some necessities. I know Deacon is right, but adding someone like Vince Cassidy to the mix will make this hard to pull off. Bodies like his are hard to hide .

I stand by the checkout with bread, milk, and eggs. The register is lined with plastic buckets of candy wrapped in white wax paper. My eyes fall on the closest bucket, one labeled Lemon Chews.

My father used to get those for my mother, maybe as an apology for everything. It was a kick to the stomach when Diane said they were her favorite.

I pick up a handful and set them on the counter before I take out my card. Then, when I get back in the truck, I shove them in my pocket.

Anything for my girl.