“Shit,” I breathed, sinking back into my chair. Relief that it wasn’t Connor quickly gave way to worry for Sam. He was just a kid like me, barely old enough to know which way was up. But his jail time was due to drugs, so this infraction wasn’t unexpected as far as the law was concerned. “Sam wouldn’t... he’s been clean since he got out. He said he wanted nothing to do with the stuff anymore.”
“That’s what Connor said too,” Larry nodded. “Got pretty heated about it. Said someone must’ve planted it.”
My stomach dropped. “What did my father say to that?”
“Told Connor to keep his mouth shut if he didn’t want to join Sam back at Montana State,” Larry said grimly. “But between you and me, Connor might be right. The timing’s awful suspicious.”
I met Evelyn’s concerned gaze. “You think my dad’s retaliating? Using Sam to send a message?”
Larry shrugged, but his expression said it all. “Can’t prove nothin’. But your dad’s been makin’ noise about ‘cleaning house’ since your... disagreement.”
The eggs turned to cement in my stomach. My father was punishing the men to get to me. Sam was just collateral damage. He was the youngest, the easiest target. The most likeme.
“Connor’s alright though?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
Larry gave me a knowing look that made my cheeks burn. “He’s fine. Angry, but keepin’ his head down. Smart man.”
“Is there anything we can do for Sam?” Evelyn asked, saving me from my embarrassment.
“Not much,” Larry admitted. “Ms. Randall’s already on the way. But I thought you should know, Ryder. Your dad’s on the warpath, and I ain’t sure who’s next on his list.”
I stood up, pacing the kitchen. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve known he’d take it out on them.”
“Don’t you dare blame yourself for your father’s actions,” Evelyn said sharply. “Pete’s a grown man making his own choices. Bad ones.”
“But if I’d stayed?—”
“He’d still be hurting you instead,” Larry cut in, his voice firm. “And that ain’t right either, son.”
I ran my hands through my hair, frustration and guilt churning inside me. “So what am I supposed to do? Just hide out here while he picks off the guys one by one?”
“You could call Ms. Randall,” Larry offered, pulling a card out of his breast pocket. “Tell her what you know. None of us can prove Sam is innocent, but we might be able to give her enough doubts to stop her from sending him back to prison.”
I took the card. It was heavy with responsibility, far more than a thin piece of paper should hold. “Will she listen to me?”
“I don’t know.” Larry shook his head. “But I think you should try. And whatever you do, make sure Sam’snotsent back to McGrath Ranch. If there’s one thing your father can’t stand, it’s having to deal the consequences of his own actions.”
I nodded, taking the card from Larry. “I’ll call her. And I’ll make sure she knows the truth about what’s happening at the ranch.”
“Good man,” Larry said, settling his hat back on his head. “Just... be careful what you say. Pete’s got friends in the sheriff’s department, and Ms. Randall might not take kindly to accusations without proof.”
“I understand.” My fingers tightened around the card. “Thanks for coming to tell me, Larry. It means a lot.”
Larry shifted uncomfortably, his weathered face creasing with emotion. “I should’ve done more for you over the years, son. I saw what was happening, and I just...” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Well, I’m trying to do better now.”
After Larry left, I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the parole officer’s card. The weight of what I was about to do settled on my shoulders. If I called Ms. Randall, I’d be directly opposing my father, possibly exposing our family’s dirty laundry to strangers. But if I didn’t, Sam would go back to prison for something I was positive he didn’t do.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” Evelyn said, placing her hand on my shoulder.
“I know,” I sighed. “But I can’t just sit back and let Dad destroy people’s lives because he’s mad at me.”
“No,” she agreed. “You can’t.”
I picked up my phone and dialed the number on the card. My heart pounded as it rang once, twice, three times.
“Randall speaking.” The voice was brisk, no-nonsense.
“Ms. Randall? This is Ryder McGrath. I need to talk to you about Sam Wilson.”
