Cord huffs and puffs as he straightens. “You’re right, Sally. They are bad words. I’m sorry.”
Winnie glares at him but then leans forward and has a quiet word in Sally’s ear. Cord waves her down.
“You seem much better,” I observe, pulling my new wolf blanket around my shoulders.
I donated my old one to Sally the day I returned to the homestead, to her utter delight and Winnie’s mutterings, something aboutevil aunties bearing gifts. If that’s my new title, I’ll take it.
Cord straightens from a stunted stretch, wincing. “Am I really better? ’Cause I’m not feeling it.”
The admission of pain brings a broad smile to my face. “Yup. Because it means you’re human, just like the rest of us.”
“Being human sucks.” Cord presses a kiss to my mouth that leaves me breathless.
“More bad words,” Sally calls.
I bite back a laugh. “Thank you for the coffee.” I smile. “What do you want to get done today?” I ask, knowing there’s a new PT list I’m supposed to tick off each day, as well as all the things that he won’t sit still for, even with the doctor, West, and myself and the rest of the ranch telling him to take it slow.
Cord’s eyes narrow, his focus shifting to a point over my head. I know that look, the determination in him, and my peace shatters in a moment.
“I want to find out who tranquilized that damn bull.”
TWENTY-FIVE
CORD
Two Truths and Some Bullshit
I prop one foot on the fence that houses the bull I have a long-overdue payback check with. But to be fair, that last accident wasn’t his fault. The damn oversized beast snuffles about for feed, looking for all the world as though he’s just peachy.
The thing is that I know why the bull went down. I just don’t knowwhomade it happen.
The police report picked up a large dose of xylazine in Wrecking Ball’s blood, a common-use cattle tranquilizer. Coyote Falls stores our own supply along with a full complement of feed and drenching kit in the barn.
Oddly enough, our stash is missing.
The police’s investigation brought up the fingerprints of everyone who works on the ranch. Feeding and administering to the livestock could be done by anyone. I’ve never employed a hand I don’t trust, but at some point I’ve made a mistake.
The conversation West and I overheard that day in the yard haunts me. I’ve played it out a dozen times in my head, overlaying my boys’ voices with their faces, their actions. Who I’ve seen work with Jed in the past.
Because if I’ve got this wrong, my family might just fall apart when I pull this next string in the giant tapestry of my life. I might have Lanie back, but I’ve hit max capacity on change for now. I think she can sense that, even if no one else can. How close I am to folding, have been for a while.
And if I’ve played this wrong…
I don’t know if I’ll come back from a betrayal that’s blindsided me for so long.
Coyote Falls continues on as usual in my absence. Winding up to lunch, almost everyone mills around the yard, tidying up the last of their jobs. Winnie sits on the veranda with Sally, creating intricate mandalas in colored chalk that span the entire width of the walkway. My sister was nervous being here at first, worrying they’d break something inside the house or upset me with their combined noisy presence, but Lanie has helped show her how much I love having them here in more than just a helpful get-Cord-better capacity.
An echo of her own first days in the homestead, perhaps. I’m more than grateful for her intervention as I begin the process of rebonding with my sister. A slower progress than walking that comes easier with every day despite a few twinges in both directions.
Billy and West have reorganized the equipment in the wake of the rodeo, labeling everything in their own brainchild of a system for next year’s event. They alone seem to understand it; it mystifies the hell out of everyone else, including me.
And then there’s Wrecking Ball.
“He’s pretty.” Lanie slips her hand through my arm, a thermos of coffee clutched in her other hand.
I laugh down at her. “Prettyisn’t the word I’d use. But I’m glad he survived.” That’s not a lie. I am glad. At no point would I wish death on the stunning creature penned before us.
A large part of me accepts that I made those eight seconds. My win is uncontestable, protecting Coyote Falls and everyone whorelies on the property as a source of income and a home, emotional strings attached or otherwise.
