“Carl, I have to be chauffeured around my ranch. I should be on a horse.”
“Lots of disabled people ride horses. And we can even have a Gator fitted so you don’t need your feet.”
Carl was a great hand on the ranch. But sometimes his overtpositivity grated on our nerves. I didn’t know a single other person who always thought about the silver lining. I swear if I’d been killed the day of the accident, he would have stood at my funeral and waxed on about the positive sides of death and dying.
For hours we drove around the ranch. There was no sign of Thunder, and no sign of the mysterious man Jessie encountered in the barn. Tyson’s words ran through my head. The combination of her finally giving in last night and then running this morning didn’t bode well, but without solid proof, I refused to consider I had read her so wrong.
Dinner that night was quiet. It was just the four of us—me, Hudson, Emerson, and Addie. Tyson said he’d eat in the bunkhouse with his club brothers, and Carson and Pops only came out to the ranch for dinner every other Sunday.
Unfortunately, it worked out that this Sunday we would have guests. Guests I still hadn’t told my family about.
“We have guests coming this weekend.”
“Oh? And when were you planning on telling me? When it was too late to go grocery shopping for extra food?”
I looked at my sister. “Extra food? Really? What don’t we have here that you would need to go shopping for? We raise our own beef and have freezers full. We grow our own fruits and vegetables that we pick fresh and can what we don’t use at the end of the season.”
“Well, the staples are running low,” she complained.
“Then I suggest you make a list and send Ralph to get it. Like you normally do.”
“Who’s coming?” Hudson asked, cutting Addie off before she could argue. Hudson always cut through the bullshit. Pretty sure it had something to do with being the third child. The thirdwheel. He always wanted to hang around with me and Carson, and when we fought, he was always the one to negotiate a peace treaty.
We’d missed him during the three years he’d been away at school. He never came home to visit but always called a few times a week to talk and catch up. Carson and I were convinced he had a girlfriend. But when our parents died, he dropped out and never went back.
He wouldn’t talk about what happened at school, but given he only had one year left, we knew something had happened. He didn’t date; hell, he left the ranch even less than I did.
He stood firmly by the notion that with Mom and Dad gone, we needed the help. But we knew there was more to it. I just hoped one day he would trust us enough to open up.
“Armando Garcia.”
Emerson’s head popped up from his plate. “Are you crazy?”
“Who’s Armando Garcia?” Addie asked, her head turning from me to Emerson like she was watching a tennis match.
Hudson set his fork on the table and leaned back in his chair. I watched him study me out of the corner of my eye before he said, “Armando Garcia is the new head of the cartel in Mexico.”
“The cartel?” Addie gaped at me.
“It’s not the end of the world. He called and wanted to buy a few horses for his grandchildren. I’ve already spoken with King, and he assured me he would send more guys over for the weekend.”
“How many people is Garcia bringing?” Emerson asked. Emerson confused us all. He often spoke without thinking, but sometimes when I looked at him, I swear I could physically see the wheels turning in his head. There was no question that he was smart. He just didn’t apply himself, and I had to wonder why.
“His younger brother, his nephew, and each will have two guards.”
“So, nine people,” Addie said before taking a dramatic breath. “Added to our eight.”
“Eight?” Hudson asked.
“Jessie,” she answered.
“Where is Jessie?”
“She went to see Ellie,” I answered, not looking at either of my brothers.
Emerson laughed out loud, while Hudson coughed to hide—unsuccessfully—his own chuckle.
“What is so funny?”
