Suddenly I'm on my feet. My mouth is open and sounds are coming out and I don't think my brain ever gave the signal to talk or move. It feels instinctual, this call to protect my cub.
"What's your name?" I ask the woman. She jumps at the sound of my voice.
"Clarissa Hastings."
"Clarissa, I'm Josephine Shelton, and—"
She interrupts me to say, "It's nice to meet you," in a saccharine voice. She's as fake as the long nails on her fingers.
"I cannot say the same of you."
She gasps and flinches. I keep going. "That 'troublemaker', as you so rudely called him, is my son." I hear it, the shocked intake of breath from around the room. I know it's bold, to make a statement so publicly, but now that he knows he's mine, I want everyone else to know it too. "He is not here to attend the ranch. He is going to work on it with me. I am the owner of Wildflower. And there is nothing wrong with my ranch."
The owner of the feed store stands up. "You're inviting trouble into this town."
"Yeah."
"Exactly."
"That's what I think!"
I don't know who's saying it all, but the words fly up into the air like flares.
"You're all wrong." The statement is made by a deep, gravelly voice. Low, but far-reaching. A voice that, when it wants to, crawls into your throat, wrapping around your voice box and stamping out your ability to speak.
Beau Hayden.
He stands only a few feet away. I never saw him come in. His arms are crossed, his stance is wide. He leans back onto his heels just slightly, turning up his chin and looking around the crowd. His gaze remains impassive, as though there isn't a chance in hell any one of the people sitting there could ever solicit a single emotion from him.
"You." He points a stiff finger at Waylon first. "If you're so worried about this town housing delinquents, you should put up a for sale sign in your front yard and move along, because you're as delinquent as they come."
Before Waylon can respond, Beau sets his sights on someone else. A man the same age as him, someone I don't know. "And you. Do you need to be reminded of what you did the summer after senior year?"
The man chuckles uncomfortably. "Now, Beau, I don't see why—"
"Shut up," Beau instructs. "You're done talking."
A different man speaks up. "Beau, you can't just walk in here and—"
Beau interrupts him too. "Don't you even start with me or I will lay your shit bare, Griffin."
I look at Wyatt, his eyes are as wide as mine. I bet there isn't a person in this room who isn't wondering what the hell Beau Hayden has on Griffin, a dairy farmer who has been around nearly as long as the Haydens.
He looks out, leveling every single person with his stony stare. "None of you should be walking around acting high and mighty, because none of you are above reproach. Me included. So how can you sit here and say all that you have? You walk around acting like you know, but you don't know a damn thing. You think Wildflower will bring in problems"—Beau's eyes flicker to Clarissa, the snotty Phoenix woman, and she shrinks—"but problems are already here. A woman walked among you all for a long time, and none of you saw the bruises on her. You sure did manage to gossip about her though, didn't you? How about those two newcomers claiming to be Mrs. Calhoun's grandsons? They're raking the town, looking for potential customers."
"Customers for what?" Sheriff Monroe asks, clambering to his feet.
"Drugs, Monroe." Beau reins his tone in a little. He and the sheriff go way back, or so I've heard, and he probably needs to keep things amicable between them. "I don't want to hear another damn word about Wildflower from a single one of you. What happened in Tucson was terrible, but that didn't happen here. Bad things happen everywhere, whether you're aware of them or not"—his gaze flickers to Wyatt, who nods at his dad—"but you're still living your life. Since I came in here, someone somewhere died in a car accident, but every one of you will drive home in your car after this meeting. A shooting in Tucson does not guarantee a shooting here. What we know is that there are worthwhile kids out there who were dealt a shitty hand, and their hand is only going to get shittier the longer nobody reaches out and gives them a chance. Shame on all of you who are trying to insulate this town. You just might miss out on something really good because you're too busy turning your head." Beau holds his eyes on Wyatt for a long moment. Something passes between them, but I can't say for sure what it is.
Someone coughs. Another person adjusts themselves in their seat. Mayor Cruz steps back up to the podium.
"Thank you, Beau." He nods at Beau, still standing in the back of the room. "Does anybody have anything else to add?"
Not a single hand lifts.
"As mayor, I've decided to set aside the concerns of the town in an effort to continue the plans for Wildflower Ranch. Should it become clear there is a problem in the future, we will reconvene."
The nerves in my stomach melt away. Wyatt takes my hand, and Travis grabs the other.
