We both nod and I take a deep breath, rotating my shoulder to ease some of the ache. “Did you ever hear back from Indian Affairs?”
Dad taps his fingers on his desk. “I heard from the Muskogee bureau, but the records are so old that some of them are in some kind of storage in the Miami location near Tahlequah. It could take months to get a response, but if I need to, I’ll put some pressure on them and ask if they can speed up the process.”
“What kind of records?” I’m genuinely confused, I thought we had copies of everything here.
He shakes his head. “I’m not sure, the person I spoke with said there was some kind of arrangement between the original landowners. Plural. When I asked if they had any more specific information, she said what was on the computer was vague.”
“There were two landowners?” Mason and I ask at the same time.
“Sounds that way.” He looks between us again. “Things seem a little muddy, so we just have to keep these people at arm’s length and wait for more information.”
We both nod and Mason cups the back of his neck and squints his eyes sheepishly. “There’s something else.”
What else could possibly happen today?
Dad and I look at him, and he rests his hand on his hip. “I got a text from Callum this morning. They need me for a job and I’m flying out the day after tomorrow.”
“How will you get out of here?” Dad asks.
“Callum said he’s sending a helo in after the storm passes. I could be gone a week.”
A soft knock on the door has all our heads turning in that direction as it opens just enough for Marley to stick her head in. Her blue eyes look to each of us and she raises her eyebrows in question.
“Come in, sweetheart,” Dad’s deep, gravelly voice calls out, the softness he always uses when talking to Marley is laced into the usual gruffness.
After she was brutally attacked in high school, she was never the same, and Dad's interactions with her changed. She lost her easy-going, fun-loving nature and retreated into herself for over a year. Now she’s quiet and reserved, and she avoids all strangers like wild boars.
“Did she say anything?” Mason asks, turning to face her, irritation in his voice.
Marley shakes her head as she walks into the room, folded papers are clutched in her hands like a shield in front of her. “No, she barely woke up while we were getting her out of her wet clothes. Her phone was in her coat pocket, I left it on the nightstand next to the bed.”
“Her head?” When I was checking the generator on the side of the house and I looked up to see a bloody woman walk out from between our trucks, I thought I was imagining things for a second. A lot of blood had dripped down her face and coat, so the sight in front of me was shocking, to say the least.
“Sloane is cleaning it up, it’s not bad enough to need stitches, just ugly.” She looks at Dad, hurt and anger in her eyes, and grips the papers in her hand so hard that her knuckles are bleaching white.
“Marley?” Dad leans forward in his chair again, lines of concern forming on his forehead, and rests his forearms on his desk.
Anger deepens the little line between her eyebrows as she looks between the three of us. The paper crinkles in her fingers. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She pauses and looks between us again. We dubiously look back at her. “This is my home, too, I have every right to know that negotiations are being made to sell our home.”
All three of us move in unison, like someone dropped a bomb in the room.
I stand to move closer as Dad stands behind his desk, but Mason beats me to her in two long steps and grips her arms, squatting down to meet her at eye level. Mason’s large military physique dwarfs her slight frame. “We are not selling our home.” His voice is firm.
She doesn’t say anything, only lifts the papers between them as proof, they are trembling in her hand.
“Give me those.” Dad demands, the sharp edge I’m used to is back.
Mason pulls them from Marley’s fingers and hands them to me so I can hand them to Dad. Tears are in Marley’s narrowed eyes, but she never breaks her angry eye contact with him. He grips her cheeks in his palms and meets her scowl with a firm countenance. “We're not selling our home. A company's interested in our land, and we've let them know, in no uncertain terms, we're not interested. We didn’t want to bother you with it because it would just stress you out.”
She sniffs, her nose has turned red, and takes a deep breath of relief as a tear breaks free and Mason catches it with his thumb to wipe it away. She throws her fists down at her sides and glares at him. “Iam notmade of glass, Mason Wade. I’m part of this family, too.” If tone could cut, she would have shredded him just then.
He nods his head deeply in agreement as he says, “You’re right, you are just as much a part of this family as we are, and I was wrong. I asked Dad and Gray not to say anythingbecause you were dealing with Dad’s heart attack.” His head tilts to the side a little, the regret plain on his face, “I was just trying to help, I won’t ask anyone to keep things from you again.”
The anger lines around her eyes and across her forehead disappear after a few seconds and she nods her head.
We all hear Dad opening the folded papers and we turn to watch as he reads. Mason wraps his arm across Marley’s shoulders and pulls her into his side. She threads her fingers together in front of her as Dad flips the first page over and then scans the second page.
“Where did you get this?” Dad asks without looking up from the letter.
