Uncle Cyrus was last, sliding in from the porch, a cigarette burning low between his fingers and the air of a man who’d been up since before dawn thinking dangerous thoughts. He didn’t say hello, just killed the smoke in the old Mason jar by the sink and leaned against the fridge, arms crossed and waiting.
I waited until they were all in place before I spoke. The kitchen felt tight, all that McKenzie blood and bad history pressing in from every angle. Newt sat at the end of the table, hunched and anxious, his tea gone cold but still clutched in his hands like it might grow legs and run off.
“Sheriff came by,” I said, voice clipped. “Bridger’s trying to play it legal now. Says we’re holding Newt against his will. Sheriff bought the story for about half a second. He won’t come again unless he’s got backup.”
Ransom grinned. “Let him bring the whole goddamn SWAT. We got enough ammo in the barn to hold off half the county.”
Harlow shot Ransom a look, then turned to me. “You want me on the door tonight?”
“Door, window, and the whole east fence line,” I said. “He won’t come straight, but if he sends someone else, I want you to break their legs and leave ‘em in the ditch.”
Harlow grinned, broad and wolfish, but there was nothing friendly in it.
I looked to Quiad. “You’re on second watch. Rotate with Harlow every three hours, no sleeping on the job. If anyone gets near the main house, I want to know before their boots touch the steps.”
Quaid nodded, once.
“Ransom,” I said, “You stay inside. You’re on Newt duty.”
Ransom looked at Newt, then at me, then at Newt again. “I can handle that,” he said, voice going softer. “You want a shadow, Bridger? I’ll be your shadow.”
Newt’s mouth opened, then closed. He looked like he wanted to say thank you, but wasn’t sure he deserved it.
Uncle Cyrus cracked his knuckles, then said, “Your pa and I’ll will get the still running double time. No use having the family name if we can’t bribe half the town for intel. Also, I’ll call in that favor from the deputy in Three Pines.”
I nodded. “Good. Bridger’s gonna try something stupid. He always does. We make sure he pays in advance.”
The brothers exchanged glances, a little of the old rivalry surfacing, but the seriousness in my voice killed any urge to joke. They settled in, falling into the routine we’d learned as kids—follow the plan, stick to your post, no heroics.
I turned to Newt, who looked smaller than ever in the oversized hoodie, but was holding himself together with more spine than I’d expected.
“You got a job too,” I told him. “You stay alive. You stay put. You don’t try to play hero, you don’t try to sneak out and handle it yourself. That clear?”
He nodded, then, braver, “What if they come when you’re not here?”
I smiled, all teeth. “Then Ransom bites first and Harlow does the cleanup.”
Ransom cracked his knuckles, delighted.
There was a long silence while the brothers sat with the plan, weighing it, slotting it into the spaces between what they wanted and what needed to be done.
Finally, Quiad spoke, voice so low it was almost lost in the hum of the old fridge. “You sure he’s worth it?”
He didn’t mean it cruelly. It was just the kind of thing Quiad said, because he liked to test the boundaries, make sure everyone remembered what was at stake.
I didn’t hesitate. “He’s worth it,” I said. “He’s ours now.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and final.
Ransom laughed, then went to the coffee pot, poured himself a cup. “You hear that, Bridger? You get the McKenzie loyalty plan and you didn’t even have to marry in. Lucky bastard.”
Newt stared at his mug, but I saw the edge of a smile. It looked like a man learning he had a place to belong and almost not believing it.
Harlow squeezed Newt’s shoulder again, gentler this time. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “Knox don’t lose.”
I stood at the head of the table, hands planted wide, and looked at each of my brothers in turn. They met my gaze, one by one, and I felt the old connection click into place. Whatever else happened, whatever bullshit Bridger tried, this was a wall no one was getting through.
Uncle Cyrus was the first to move. He finished his smoke, pushed away from the fridge, and said, “Guess I better get busy,then. If anyone needs a distraction, just let me know. There’s a lot of dry grass out by the property line.”
