I finally glanced over at him, searching for something more complicated in his expression, but there wasn’t anything hidden there.
We shared a small smile before settling onto a pair of stacked hay bales near the incubators to watch the last of the chicks break free from their shells. The barn began to slowlyfill with soft, uneven chirps. Chickens nearby had wandered in, curious to the sound. Some took to pecking the hay while a few aggressive ones decided my fingers and legs were better.
The next to attack would be dinner, I thought while flicking another beak that went after my leg. It flared its wings and I thought it was attempting flight, but it stopped its threat just as quickly as it started it.
I watched it leave, taking a moment to muster enough courage to ask one of the more sensitive topics in this house. Now that he had opened the door to the conversation, I could step through without fear of opening it myself.
“What was mom like?” I asked, watching the dust drift through the slats of the barn as sunlight slipped through the cracks. I felt him stir beside me, but I didn’t dare look. I pushed the topic, “I don’t remember her, but you always say I’m just like her.”
He chuckled and I heard his hands busying themselves with a bale of hay, pulling it apart for the barn floor. “Your mom was strong willed. Stubborn too. She was crazier than a raccoon trapped in a trash can.”
I laughed at his analogy, imagining it. “Are you trying to say I’m crazy, dad?”
“Oh, you’re the craziest in Burrow Hills,” he said, tossing some hay at me. It drew both my attention and a laugh. He took in the moment, grinning like an idiot. “But you’re my daughter so I tell everyone it’s just part of your charm.”
“What did I get from you?”
He paused, tilting his head back to study the barn roof, thinking about his answer. The piece of hay was forgotten, falling through his fingers. “I’d say the Hardgrave blood didn’t do you any favors. All that sass and sarcasm would definitely be from my side.”
“But it’s part of my charm, right?” I nudged his arm with my shoulder.
He nodded, patting my head before pushing himself upright. His knees cracked with the effort, and the low groan that followed only added to the years worked.
“I think it’s time to head back.”
“I thought you needed help on the farm? So far, all we’ve done is moved some hay bales. What about watering the vegetables? Feeding the animals?”
He waved off my question, dismissing it without attempting an explanation. He grabbed a red gas tank on his way out of the barn. I bounded after him, my ponytail slapping my back with each swing. He stopped and turned, arms crossing as he stared me down. Then he frowned, brows knitting in confusion. “Do you want more work, Melinda Marie?”
“No, sir. Roger that,” I answered quickly, before he could change his mind. I headed off to change and make my way to Saddleback. A drink after all that hauling sounded like a reward.
Thankfully, Lucien didn’t make an appearance, and neither did Bryon. For once, I was left alone—no drama, no awkward encounters.
By the end of the night, I was fifty dollars richer, and my drinks had been paid for by the losing parties of my pool matches. Honestly, this town should know by now, but everyone thought they had the capacity to get better. They didn’t. At least not here.
Growing up in this place had a way of keeping people exactly dumb enough to stay. I at least had the advantage of one parent who hadn’t been from here. It gave me a sense of adventure for what was beyond Burrow Hills. I only hoped I would leave before I became too pathetic to leave.
When I returned to my bed, there on my pillow was the missing book from this morning. I quickly shoved it in its spot before closing my window and shutting the curtains.
Was it Isadora?
Or was this a threat from her brother?
Chapter Eleven
Melinda and Lucien
That night Melinda went straight to bed and remained holed up in her room for a couple days before finally stepping out. The house seemed empty when she came downstairs. Heading straight to her father’s filing cabinet, Lucien’s words repeated in her mind.
Melinda looked over the other letters the men had brought, noticing that they all looked exactly the same. The only change was the amount they were purchasing the land for. The number of zeros made her head hurt. She was understanding less why her dad wouldn’t give up on this land. Even though it was how he was raised and this being the place he was raised, that was a lot of zeros. Were the memories worth saying no?
“What are you looking at?” Melinda heard her dad ask from the front door. She raised her head to find him in his hunting gear.
“Are you going hunting?” Melinda asked.
He nodded, walking further into the dining room. “I should be back in the morning. Why are you looking over all of those letters?”
“I was speaking with someone and they told us that the letters were not legitimate so I was hoping to find more simplified proof of that other than their word. I was trying to find the deed to the house to make sure it was under your name, but I couldn’t find it.”
