Another. Then another. Five more swings and this tree would fall. Gil stood several steps behind him so he wasn't in the way of the tree's path.
It took seven more blows to fell the pine. Jericho was getting weak.
He turned to the next tree he'd planned. Eyed the length of it, figuring where it would land. Gauged where the back cut should be placed. And the angle.
"I can't believe you let them leave." Gil’s voice broke through his concentration, raising a sour taste in his mouth.
He hoisted the ax and swung. Hard.
Bark chunks flew backward, but he'd not made a very large dent. He raised the ax and swung again. Harder this time. Not as much bark splintered away, but the wedge barely deepened.
"You're working with a dull ax."
He raised the tool again. "The story of my life." Another swing.
Faster now. Up. Swing. Up. Swing. Up. Swing.
All that just for the back cut. He moved around to the other side of the tree and lifted the ax once more.
"You can take your anger out on every tree in the forest, but that won't change the way things are. Not until you do something to fix them. "
A fresh wave of anger surged, and he spun to his brother. "You think I don't know that?" He tightened his grip on the ax. "You think I'm nottryingto fix things? It's not… It's not that easy."
Gil stepped closer, his expression firm. "No, but you can stop wallowing in self-pity and start owning your mistakes."
Jericho squared his shoulders. "What mistakes? Everything I've done was for the rest of you. If that’s wrong, then I guess I don't know what’s right."
Gil crossed his arms, his scrutiny itching. "You know, you might be right."
Jericho glared, preparing to turn his back on his brother and raise the ax again. "What's that supposed to mean?" This entire conversation felt like wandering in circles. A waste of time.
"I always thought you were just bitter, thought that explained why you don't like people anymore. Why you keep it like a prison around here. But maybe you really think you're doing the best thing for us."
He could only gape at Gil. "A prison?" He threw a hand out. "Look around you. You're surrounded by the prettiest mountains in the world. No people for miles, just wide open sky, a warm house, plenty of food, and the chance to put in a good day's work on our own land. Not to mention we have the money to order anything we fancy. You call that a prison?"
Gil raised his brows. "When we're not allowed to leave. Not allowed to have friends. Yeah, I do."
Jericho turned back to the tree. "We have friends. Two Stones and his family are the best neighbors a family can have." He'd had enough of Gil’s whining on top of everything else.
He swung the ax, the blade barely sinking into the trunk. He yanked it back out of the tree and swung again.
"Why didn't you ask her to stay?"
Jericho wanted to groan, but instead he swung the ax again. When he tried to pull it out, the metal head snagged in a patch of sap. He yanked harder. With a jolt, it tugged free, and he stumbled back a step.
He stood, heaving as the answer tasted like bile in his mouth. Gil deserved to know the truth. They all did. At least they would know he'd tried.
He kept his gaze on the tree. "I did." His breaths came loud in the quiet between them.
"What did you say exactly?"
He lifted his focus to the branches above, anywhere except at his brother. "I asked her to marry me."
Again Gil was quiet a few beats. "And what did she say?"
He shrugged. "She said she couldn't stay here on the ranch. She's a doctor and has to use all that skill somewhere."
"Did you try to work out how she could do both? Be married to you and be a doctor?"
