Chapter Fifty-One - Westin

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

WESTIN

It's almost time.

My wife throws her bouquet into the crowd. It bounces off the back of a chair, and Maddie catches it. She has been married for ages, so it causes a ripple of laughter that livens the room. The bartender starts pouring another round of drinks. The music picks up again.

I have to take a piss.

Diane sits with Maddie and Keira, happy and occupied. I dip out of the tent, a whiskey in one hand, and make my way to the edge of the woods several yards away. I have my belt open and my dick out when I hear a branch crack. There are a half a dozen other men out here, doing the same as me, so I ignore it.

Then, I hear someone relieving themselves, too close for comfort. I glance to the side, and I see David's profile to my left, maybe two yards over.

My blood boils. It's all I can do to finish and close my pants. His zipper hisses, and I turn around, pretending I didn't see him.

No—fuck that. I pivot abruptly. His collar is open, tie over his shoulder, whiskey in one hand, same as me.

"Quinn," he says before I can speak. "I want to talk to you."

I lift my glass. "I'm all ears. "

He comes closer, and I can see the sweat staining his shirt. His black eyes glitter in the light from the tent. He takes a deep breath.

"I never meant for all the shit to happen that happened," he says.

I work my jaw, not trusting myself to speak.

"We were in a desperate situation," he says. "I made the only choice. She was fine. She came out of it fine."

I'm so red-hot inside, it's a miracle I don't break. I can't. If he senses something is up, he won't go with Deacon and Jensen. He'll just flee. He needs to think I forgive him when this conversation is done.

God, that's a bitter pill to swallow.

"My sister is fine," David says.

I take a sip of whiskey and a step closer. We're eye to eye.

"My wife is fine," I say carefully.

He sputters. "Yes, Diane's fine. I'd like to let bygones be bygones. Our farms are right up against each other now that the Garrisons are gone."

"I thought you were selling."

"I'm hoping this could change that. Maybe Sovereign could have a word about it. He owns the biggest farm around here."

"Ranch," I say. "You have a farm. I have a ranch."

His brow creases. "Whatever it is, we're neighbors, and this marriage makes us brothers too. I'd like to build a bridge and let the past go."

It hits me that David's not only a true coward but a narcissist as well. He can't conceptualize the damage he did to my wife, but I know it intimately. I know how broken and scared she was when I stole her from Garrison Ranch. All he knows is how to save his own neck.

I take a deep breath. "I agree."

"Really?" He cocks his head.

"Some things are so broken," I say carefully, "that it's better to just let the water wash all the pieces away and forget the past completely. "

He holds out his hand. I shake it. Our chests are inches apart, our eyes locked. Then, he releases me and steps back. Neither of us speak for a moment.

He turns on his heel and goes back to the tent. Through the doorway, I see Jensen and Deacon appear at his side. They sweep him up and head to the bar. The next part of our plan is in motion. I need to get Diane somewhere safe so I can take care of business.

In the tent, I find my wife and take a seat, pulling her to sit on my knee. She can tell I'm tense, but she doesn't ask why. I think, at this point, she knows better. She asks me if I had any cake, and I say I didn't, so she feeds me a piece off her fork.

Safe in my arms, I let her have her moment. She's smiling, lighter than she's been in months, but from the corner of my eye, I'm watching Jensen and Deacon lead a drunk David out of the tent.

Like an animal to slaughter.

They disappear into the dark, talking, laughing. I beckon Keira from the corner of the room to come and collect Diane. Her brow is furrowed, and I know that Sovereign told her where we're headed.

"Where are you going?" Diane asks as we leave the tent.

I kiss her forehead. The moon is so full overhead, it's as light as the early morning. I can see her face clearly. Her blonde hair is curled in the humidity, flowers tangled in her waves, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

God, I can't wait to get back to her tonight.

"I have a few things to tie up tonight," I say. "Then I'll be back to tie you up."

She blushes. Keira looks away.

"When?"

"Soon."

She kisses me hard, hands tangled in the front of my shirt. Then, Keira takes her away, down to the gatehouse. They disappear around the bend, and I turn on my heel, unwilling to waste a second.

I saw Deacon and Jensen leave with David ten minutes ago under the guise of going for a ride and talking business now that our ranches are neighbors. That means I need to tear up the side of the mountain or risk fucking everything up. Tonight has to be perfectly timed, or we're shit out of luck.

Rocky is already saddled up. In the hayloft, I brush aside the blanket and pull up my rifle, slinging it over my shoulder. Then, I drop to the ground beside Rocky. He shies away, and I soothe him, clicking my tongue. We need to get in and out quietly.

Music thrums from the tent. Everyone is so fucking drunk, it'll be a miracle if they hear anything.

I strip off my vest and roll my sleeves up, undoing my top button to free my collar. The gun and scope goes over my shoulder. I tighten the straps to keep it firm on my back. Then, I take my hat from where it hangs by Rocky's stall door and swing up on him. He senses my quick pulse and prances to the side.

"Down boy," I say. "All you have to do is run tonight."

I click my tongue, and he shoots forward, hooves clattering, gravel spraying. We skid from the barn, and he spins hard as I turn the reins. The cliffs take an hour or so to reach on a good day. I have to make it in thirty minutes.

Rocky runs like he has never run before. I should have taken Gracey because she's quick, fast, but this feels like something my horse and I should do together.

The trees are a dark shadow. Down below, the tent glows. Overhead, the moon is a white ball in the sky. Stars hang heavy, burning pale gold. Everything is bathed in deep blue.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Rocky's uneven gait pounds with my heart, alongside the blood in my veins.

My mind calms. This is what I'm good at, what I've done for years, but this is the first time it was all for me. Normally, I hunt and kill for Sovereign and the ranch.

I've never hunted my own prey before .

My hands are numb when we pause at the bottom of the cliff on the other side of the woods. I slow Rocky, letting him cool. His sides are lathered. He huffs under his breath as I slide down and sling the reins back over his neck.

We climb, quickly and quietly. About halfway up, I tell Rocky to wait, and he does. His ears prick forward, his glossy eyes following me as I walk away. I know he doesn't like that we're parting.

For his safety, he needs to stay back.

In the dark, I move on, one foot in front of the other, until I'm deep in the woods, retracing my footsteps from early this morning.

I find the rope and follow it.

Hand over hand.

Step over step.

The woods are so quiet. I see the single wire thread running through the trees, barely visible in the moonlight, like a spider's web.

My heart slows. Overhead, a nightbird cries. The further I follow the rope towards the cliff's edge, the less isolated I am. In the distance, the trees start to open up, and I catch the low rumble of voices.

I crouch down. The trigger point is a foot before me.

A metal lever glints. All I have to do is pull, and the tension will release. The panel of fencing made of wire rope will throw David's body into the ravine, into the river, where the hungry current will take the parts far away.

No reasonable trace left.

I rise to a standing position. Through the gap, I see Deacon and Jensen are making sure to stand on either side of the danger zone. David stands in it, but a little too far to the left for comfort.

I need him to shift.

I need to do this right. No chance David doesn't fall.

I clench my jaw, waiting. There's no poetic justice to this. No, this is pure, messy vengeance. I want him gone in the messiest, darkest way I can get. Thomas got his punishment; now it's time for David to have his so I can let go of this burning rage.

He took the woman I love and forced her into misery. He's so fucking small, and he's about to be smaller still.

Little pieces for the water to wash away, just like I told him.

My mouth goes dry as an eerie but familiar sensation settles over me. I'm not alone anymore. My father prickles my spine with his presence—a ghost I just can't kick. It's so strong, I have to turn around to make sure it's just my mind playing tricks on me.

Swear to God, it feels like he's breathing down my neck.

Every word he spoke to me echoes in my ears.

For the first time, they don't disturb me. My father was a softly broken man—not cruel, just in pieces all the time on the floor of his iron fortress. Maybe someday, I'll know why he was the way he was. Maybe I spent too long knocking on his door to care why he kept it closed.

I had to be a scourge to give Diane the life she deserves. In his hardness, his coldness, my father made me the gunslinger. He pushed me to be relentless, to be what he thought a man should be.

A man who shoots. Who takes. Who kills.

That was the only gift he passed on, and now, it has given me everything. In her darkest hour, the gunslinger was who she needed.

That era is over; that pain stops with me. Tonight, I put the warring sides of my heart to rest. I'm already molded, but I don't want my son to be a killer, finally finding love after decades of hard existence.

I am my father's son, but my son will be so much more.

I lift my eyes. My father's ghost is quiet.

Up ahead, David steps back. I take a beat, and my vision narrows, putting him at the center of everything. My mind goes back to what Diane told me, that he stood there and watched while Thomas used the steel toe of his boot on her ribs.

Anger pours through my veins. My hand closes around the level, and I pull it down.

Click.

The spring engages. The taut wire releases with a soft hiss .

It's not spectacular. One second, David is there, the next, he's gone. The panel of fencing springs back, wobbling with a colossal sound that echoes off the ravine. Deacon swears and falls back in shock. Jensen runs to the cliff's edge and peers down.

I run up through the trees and burst out into the open grass. Deacon holds his arm, but he's not bleeding. I move past him and come to a halt beside Jensen.

In the swirling water, I see everything I need to see.

Leftovers.

From behind me comes the thunder of hoofbeats. My heart picks up, and I spin around. Jensen scrambles back from the cliff's edge and pulls his pistol from its holster. Deacon reaches for his as well, but it's Sovereign who bursts over the hill astride Shadow and skids to a halt.

"Is he gone?" he asks.

"He's gone," I say.

Shadow prances, spraying up dry grass and dirt. "It's too late for Corbin and Vince. They got in the truck and left by way of the state route. I tried to hold them back. "

My mind works fast. I've done plenty of jobs where the target didn't behave properly. It always comes with a moment where I have to think on my feet. I'm used to it.

"We were going to force them off the bridge," I say. "The one below the cliffs across the state route."

Jensen nods. "We can't make it back and get to the trucks in time."

My brain races. "No, but I can make it there on horseback. The trail cuts straight there."

Sovereign frowns. "And run them off the road on a horse?"

I shake my head. "No. I can shoot them off the bridge."

Deacon comes up behind me. "That'd be an impossible shot in broad daylight. You can't make that."

I glance up at Sovereign. He's quiet, heavy brow furrowed. I know what that means, and it bolsters my confidence. Distantly, I hear Jensen's boots fade as he goes to retrieve the horses from where they stand a few yards away.

"You couldn't make the shot, Deacon," Sovereign says. "But Westin can."

I'm grateful. When I doubt myself, he's always come through to pick up the slack. Our eyes meet, and he jerks his head.

"I need a lighter horse than Rocky," I say.

Jensen returns, his black mare in tow. She's half thoroughbred with long legs. She's restless, ready to run. Wordlessly, Jensen holds out the reins, and I take them.

"What's her name?" I ask.

"Godspeed," he says. "I brought her out here with me when I came to Montana, so you better bring her back, gunslinger."

I nod, running my hand over her neck. She's prancing sideways. I know she won't like leaving Jensen, but she's aching to run. I check the strap of my rifle and sight and swing up on her, standing to adjust the stirrups.

"Get Rocky from the woods," I say. "He'll take you back."

Jensen nods. I glance up and meet Sovereign's eyes. Shadow fidgets, restless from the nervous energy.

"Go get them," Sovereign says. "Don't fucking miss."

I can't miss. This will be the riskiest shot I've ever taken with no room for error. If Corbin and Vince leave our ranch alive, we'll be in for a world of trouble. No, I have one bullet, and it has to go through that windshield and strike the driver, or we're fucked.

I nod, tensing my legs. Godspeed kicks off, spraying dirt as she heads down the hill.

It takes a moment to get adjusted. I'm not used to riding a horse with such long strides. Godspeed eats up distance, her body soaring cleanly over the ground, hooves tearing up grass in her wake.

We fly through the dark, our bodies just a shadow beneath the blue moon.