I guess I just didn’t realize until now how big that part really is.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Clint
The parade’sunderway and the heat’s still hanging thick, despite the late afternoon.
The streets of Colter Creek are crowded with people, kids running wild with candy and flags, their laughter mixing with the sound of the marching band and the occasional shout from a vendor hawking something fried and greasy.
Red Bronson is sitting next to me, grinning foolishly, but I’m not in the mood to share his enthusiasm. My mind’s still on the damn ranch, and something feels off. There’s this low, gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach that I can’t shake, no matter how many beers I drink.
Red’s jabbering on about something, probably how the local band can’t keep a beat, but I’m not listening. I don’t even care.
I’m too busy running through everything that’s been happening at High Ridge. Gates left open. Cattle out of place.
A couple of times, we’ve had to round them up from the woods, because someone’s been letting them wander.
“Clint,” Red says, snapping me out of my thoughts, “You’re lookin’ like someone stole your damn dog. What’s goin’ on with you, man?”
I grunt, tipping my bottle back and letting the cold beer slide down my throat. “Nothing’s right at the ranch.”
Red laughs. “It’s probably just kids, Clint. Ain’t nothin’ to get all worked up over. I told you that already. You remember how boring it is being a teen in this small town. Trouble’s the only thing to do.”
“I’m tellin’ you, Red, it ain’t that simple,” I mutter, scanning the crowd as the parade floats roll by, all bright colors and happy faces. “Something’s off. Feels like someone’s tryin’ to get a rise outta me.”
Red, still grinning, doesn’t seem to notice the way my fists are clenched around the beer bottle. “Well, if they are, you’re takin’ the bait. Come on, it’s just kids havin’ a laugh.”
I shake my head, jaw tightening. “It’s not just kids. I’ve been watchin’ things. Some of it doesn’t add up.”
Red finally looks over at me, his expression shifting just a little. “You sure you ain’t lettin’ your mind wander? You got a lot on your plate lately.”
I meet his gaze, and the noise of the parade fades. The only thing I can hear is the wind ruffling through the trees, the distant clink of a horse’s bridle, and the pulse of the ranch that never leaves me.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sure.”
There’s a long pause between us, Red staring me down, deciding whether to push me on it or not. Eventually, he just shrugs and takes a swig of his own beer.
“Well, if you say so,” he mutters, looking back at the parade. “But I swear, Clint, you’re a hard-headed son of a bitch. Sometimes, you gotta let it go.”
I don’t answer him right away. I just keep staring at the crowd, the float in the distance, the kids laughing. There’s too much noise, too much distraction, but that knot in my gut isn’t going anywhere.
After the parade, Red and I head down to the Silver Bit Tavern, where the evening crowd’s already starting to fill the place. The low hum of chatter, clinking glasses, and country tunes from the jukebox surrounding us, mixing with the scent of fried food and old wood.
A few people wave as we walk in, but I’m not here to make small talk. I’m looking for a place to breathe.
Red slaps me on the back as we enter, grinning. “This’ll do you good, Clint. Get that stick outta your ass for a while.”
I grunt but don’t correct him. He’s right in his own way. I’m wound too tight, but the ranch never leaves me. Not even when I’m in town.
The Silver Bit has that timeless feel. Wood floors worn with age, walls lined with faded photos of ranching life, and tables scattered with familiar faces.
Riley McCarter, working the bar, catches my eye. He flashes a quick smile but doesn’t push, just sets us up with a couple of beers.
“Evening, Clint. Red,” he says. “Heard things have been a little hectic out at High Ridge. Everything alright?”
I glance over at Red, who’s already cracking a grin. “Clint’s always got something on his mind, Riley. He’ll be fine once we drink enough of this here.”
I take a pull from the bottle, not in the mood to talk ranch gossip, not yet.
