Dean McCoy and Hank Thompson are standing near each other for the first time in decades without weapons drawn. They make eye contact, and it’s like watching two dogs decide whether to fight or sniff butts.
“Your daughter’s with my boys,” Mr. McCoy says.
“Your boys are with my daughter,” Hank responds.
They stare at each other.
“This is weird,” Mr. McCoy says.
“Really weird,” Hank agrees.
“Want a beer?”
“God, yes. Make it two. Maybe three.”
And just like that, years of feuds ends with two men who need alcohol to process their children’s choices.
“Did we just fix Cedar Ridge?” I ask Callie, pulling her close.
“Either that, or we broke it permanently.”
“Either way, we did it together,” Jesse says, wrapping his arms around both of us.
“All four of us,” Wyatt adds, completing an awkward group hug that probably looks inappropriate.
“Five,” Callie corrects, pointing at Rita, who’s now wearing the mayor’s regalia chain of office thingy because someone put it on her while she was distracted. “Never forget Rita.”
The festival continues around us, but it’s different now. Lines that existed for thirty years have been blurred, erased, or possibly eaten by a goat. Thompsons are talking to McCoys. The mayor’s negotiating with Rita for his chain back, offering her various foods in trade. Mrs.Delaney and Mr. Thompson are slow dancing to no music, which is weird but oddly sweet.
The sun’s setting, casting everything in gold light that makes even the disorder beautiful. Tomorrow, Cedar Ridge will have to figure out how to exist without its defining feud. But tonight? Tonight, we’re just a town that learned the truth, chose love over grudges, and watched a goat eat history.
“We’re going to be famous,” Callie says, looking at all the phones still recording.
“Or infamous,” Wyatt corrects.
“In Cedar Ridge, those are the same thing,” I point out.
“Worth it,” Jesse says, kissing Callie again.
“Absolutely worth it,” she agrees.
Rita bleats in agreement.
Perfect ending to a perfect disaster.
19
Callie
That evening,after the families have dispersed and everyone has left for home, the four of us end up at Jesse’s place on the ranch. It’s the biggest of the McCoy brother cabins, which means it has rooms you can actually turn around in without hitting someone.
“So,” I say, sprawled on his lumpy couch, “we need to talk about the logistics everyone’s so worried about.”
“Sexy logistics?” Boone asks from the floor where he’s doing something weird with his back.
“What are you doing?”
“Yoga. Or dying.”
