And in some deep, dangerous place I don’t like to look at too closely, I know I want Cade Mercer to finally believe me over his brother and understand his betrayal.
CHAPTER 3
cade
Blue Rock Ranch stretches wide across Wildflower Canyon. Five generations of Mercer sweat soaks the soil.
Fences run clean and straight. The barns are red against the March sky. Corrals are filled with bawling calves and their mothers.
This time of year, the air carries a mix of smells—hay, manure, damp earth, and the sweet tang of molasses cubes scattered in troughs.
Calving season means long days and longer nights—watching, pulling, and praying the heifers deliver without problems. And if there are problems, you hope that the vet can make it in time.
It’s hard work, but I’ve never had a problem with it.
This is my life. The ranch is in my blood. Has always been.
Landon was always meant for bigger things, as my father used to say, and when he became a congressmanfor the state of Colorado, it was all of Dad’s dreams come true.
I’m proud of my brother just as I am of Blue Rock.
Our ranch isn’t grand like Duke Wilder’s or some of the spreads you see in Texas, but it’s strong.
I love my home, the house I grew up in, where my father and grandfather did as well. Each Mercer who lived here has added to it, made it bigger and better. It sits on the rise above the valley.
It’s a classic ranch house with white clapboard siding, a wide porch with cedar rockers, flowerbeds my mother planted long ago—she loved her roses, and Tillie, our housekeeper and guardian angel, makes sure they continue to bloom by tending them through the long, harsh winter.
The inside of the house is…renovated. I changed some of it after Dad died and everything after Jeanine. This is my home, yes, but it’s Evie’s, too. It’s warm and comfortable. Worn leather sofas, Navajo rugs, shelves lined with ranch ledgers, and old books. A stone fireplace is where Evie likes to curl up on the hearth rug with a blanket and picture books.
On a similar hearth—though on a different rug—Sarah and I used to read, play, study, kiss….
“Your place is a home, Cade.”
“Dove, you have a home as well.”
Sarah shakes her head sadly. “Since Mama died…it’s just where Daddy and I sleep, you know?”
“He’ll come out of it, Dove.” I kiss her softly. “I promise. Grief is not permanent.”
But Sam Kirk was never the same, and neither was Sarah.
I shake my head, hoping the physical act will dispel her memories.
She’s never been far from my thoughts in the past decade, but it’s gotten worse since she came back, and has gotten entirely out of control since I saw her with Evie.
While I can see the lines of age on my face, she looks the same—except for her eyes. They don’t laugh anymore.
I run a hand over my face and walk into my office, where I’ve set up a bar. I pour bourbon into a heavy glass and down it like a shot.
“Cade, they’re here,” Tillie calls from the kitchen.
It’s Saturday evening, and I’d rather be back in the calving barn, but my brother and his wife said they’d drop by on their way back to Denver from a fundraiser in Aspen.
I don’t feel like seeing him or Violet. I know they’ll want to talk about Sarah being back in Wildflower Canyon. Violet has already called me a couple of times, asking why I haven’t driven that “lying bitch” out. Like, Wildflower Canyon is somehowmydomain.
As much as I love Landon, Violet is a whole other thing. I keep it copacetic with her because that’s what family does, but her ambition and ruthlessness are not my brand of cattle.
I add another half a finger of bourbon and toss it back before I head to the living room.
