Page 38 of When The Dust Settles

“Don’t—” He coughed. “—stay away so long, all right? I’d like to see you some.”

“Yessir,” I teased, and he did a really odd thing and put his hand on my cheek and studied my face. “Rand?”

“Just—come around.”

I heard him that time, because I’d believed in Mac the night before when he told me how things really were. People actually wanted me around, so maybe I could quit being a prick and thinking everyone was only saying what they were saying because they thought they had to, or because they felt sorry for me. My father didn’t give a good goddamn about me, but that was not a surprise. To have the others care was more than I would have ever imagined possible.

So as I came up on the house, I was in a really good mood but not blinded with happiness enough to not find the two unfamiliar cars parked in front of the house odd.

That made no sense.

Most parked cars would be down by the stables, or down at the front office, or even farther out by Mac’s place if someone came to call on him—and none of that would not have given me pause. But here in front of the big house, where no random visitors ever came, that you had to specifically take the turn at the fork to get to, where I’d only ever expect Stef’s car or Rand’s truck, cars parked here would mean someone there to specifically see one of them, and while it was possible—Stef did have friends in town—it simply wasn’t likely. In fact, normally when Rand was on a drive, that was when Stef took the opportunity to get off the ranch and visit Charlotte or other friends scattered across the country. As I ran through different scenarios in my head, I realized he could have been having company, and maybe someone had driven in from the airport in Lubbock to visit him.

But the cars weren’t rentals, and neither of them was the vehicle belonging to Rand’s mother, May, because I knew the scary pink Jeep Wrangler on sight.

I was probably overthinking it. Stef certainly must know all kinds of people I didn’t have any clue about. But then I saw Bella outside pacing on the porch and the hair on the back of my neck stood up.

What was the dog doing outside?

That thought came from being brought up on a ranch. Nothing ever changed, and everyone got a weird, ridiculous hypersensitivity to anything out of the ordinary. Like, why was the Mullins boy driving so fast? Or did the Ballards get a new truck? Or, like now… why the hell was there a Toyota Highlander and a Prius—of all the cars on the planet—in Rand’s driveway? Vehicles out on the ranch were all American-made—except for Stef’s car—as well as everywhere in the county, and always had been, I was sure. My own truck had come over with the Vikings, a hand-me-down from my father I hadn’t bothered to replace yet, as it still had some life left in the ancient engine. But imports in Rand’s driveway were strange. Again cars at the main house just made no sense.

Maybe I was being stupid, but still, who would be visiting Stef in the late afternoon on a Saturday when all the men who would normally be on the ranch, including Rand, were gone?

For a second I thought maybe it was a robbery, because maybe Stef wasn’t there either, but his new Volvo S60 was in the driveway, so I knew he was most likely there, plus, again, the dog was there, and Stef was rarely without her.

But… the dog was outside. What the hell?

So instead of going up to the stairs, I rode Juju up behind the thick hedge to the left that had been planted to camouflage the concrete bunker that hid the sewage tank, and twisted her reins in the branches to keep her from drawing attention.

I darted around the west end of the porch and went to the far side window on the left, where I was immediately joined by a whining Bella.

Kneeling down, I pet her and ordered her to be quiet, a command she knew because it was how Rand trained the dogs to either herd the cattle or move between them silently. So she understood me, which was lucky considering what I saw inside the house.

Stef was in the living room, Wyatt asleep in his arms, standing with a young guy, maybe nineteen or twenty, bookish, in slacks and a button-down; a girl who looked about the same age wearing Daisy Dukes and a fuchsia crop top that showed off a great tan, gorgeous abs, and a belly piercing; and two guys who were both older and bigger. One of them had on a camouflage baseball cap and a denim shirt the sleeves had been ripped off of, and the other was in a straw cowboy hat and a gray T-shirt about two sizes too small that showed off every muscle in his abdomen, chest, and arms. He was taller and bulkier than me, but I wasn’t worried about that. It was baseball cap guy who gave me pause. He was the one with the gun.

I was too afraid to leave Stef and Wyatt alone to ride back to get whoever was down by the stockyard, and sending Bella to find Everett might have worked if this were a movie, but it certainly was not. I figured once I got the gun, the others would scatter. I wanted them out of the house and away from Rand’s family. We could find everyone later; the county wasn’t that big.

I debated going around through the kitchen, but the screen door on the back creaked loudly and the boards on the deck squeaked. Since they would all see me coming through the front screen door or any of the many windows that led in from the porch, instead, since all the windows were open—the English oaks around the house shaded it well, so even in high summer, it was easily twenty degrees cooler under them—I jumped off the porch and darted around the left side of the house, that which faced the hills and the wind turbines, to the window in the first of two sitting rooms, the one that had been converted into Stef’s office a few years back.

Making a short jump up for the ledge, I grabbed on to it, lifted myself, put my feet on the molding that ran around each wall of the house for decoration, and balanced there. It wasn’t hard to move the screen, simply lever it up and push in and place it gently on the floor inside. Then I hoisted myself up and folded over, pushed the screen to the side, and wheelbarrowed my way in on my hands until I could slowly, gently put my feet on the floor. Two years ago I wouldn’t have been able to get in quietly. I’d been heavier, carrying a lot more muscle, and wasn’t half as flexible then. But now lighter, more limber, I did it easily.

Leaning out, whipping my Stetson out onto the grass, I gave Bella a harshly whispered order. “Get inside, girl. Get in!”

She lost her mind.

“The fuck was that?” I heard someone ask.

“It’s the stupid dog he put outside.”

Slinking against the wall, still hearing Bella howling outside, making enough noise for them to worry someone would hear her, one of them finally suggested what I wanted.

“I’m gonna shoot that dog.”

“Oh no, please don’t,” Stef begged.

“She’s makin’ a terrible racket.”

“She just wants to see me.”