Page 49 of Bones and Ashes

"Legion." She turns to me. Puts her hand on my wrist. Her fingers are warm. "Would you ask Destiny to ask Colt to call me? Please? Just—a call. That's all."

Cash's eyes come back to mine.

I know what he's askin' without askin'. He wants to know if I've really made peace with it or if I'm just sayin' I have till the day I decide to put him under.

"Sure, baby," I say, and I turn my hand under hers so our palms meet. "I'll ask."

She lights up. I mean it too. Lights the fuck up. Like I handed her the sun on a plate. Her whole face goes soft, and her eyes get wet at the corners, and she squeezes my wrist and says thank you in a voice that isn't meant for anybody but me, even though her brothers are right there hearin' it.

And I think—god damn. This. Right here. This is what she wants.

Her family at a table. All of 'em. Alive and fed.

Cash still hasn't said nothin'. He just picks up his knife again and cuts into his chicken real neat, and I pick up mine and do the same.

He talks about cattle after that. Auctions and genetics. Breeding. A couple points about calving. Something about oil debt.

I think he's talkin' to me, too. Could be Savannah. But she just does that "mmmhmmm," thing. The I’m-not-really-listening murmur. Noddin' her head and smilin'.

So I know he's not really talkin' to Savannah.

And Wyatt is gulpin’ down a beer like it's water, already standin’ up as he drinks, so he's definitely not talkin’ to Wyatt.

Which means he is talkin' to me.

And that's weird. I'm not a cowboy. I can ride a horse, but not correctly. I learned by sittin’ on Savannah's many ponies growin’ up. She taught me how to steer a twelve-hundred-pound animal the same way I taught her how to kick a dirt bike.

Casually, and only for fun.

I got no idea about cows.

I know nothing about auctions, or breeding, calving, or oil debt.

But it occurs to me now, right here at dinner, that maybe that was the point of his brother-in-law talk.

Alliances or whatever.

Maybe I am useful to him. Since Wyatt clearly isn't.

Maybe, after all that bad blood between us, he's finally caught on that I am, at the very least, a serious person.

"All right then," Wyatt announces as he sets his empty beer bottle down. Then, as if on cue—like he's making the point in my head on purpose—he burps loudly. "That was good. See ya'll tomorrow at breakfast."

He breezes out of the dining room, ploppin' his hat on his head. Casually tells the servant in the hallway that he wants pancakes for breakfast. Cackles loudly at himself, or her, or us for all I know.

Then the front door slams.

All three of us at the table let out a breath at the same time.

Like we were all waitin' for him to leave.

"Wouldn't it be great," Savannah says, lookin' at Cash now. "If Destiny, and Colt, and Marigold came home. And Mercy came on the weekends. Can you imagine? A full table. A new start."

I don't expect Cash to say much about this dream of hers, but surprisingly, he does. And he does it smilin'. "Yeah, Savannah." Then he looks at me. "That would actually be pretty great."

"I'll do my best," I tell Savannah. "To convince Destiny to have Colt call ya."

She's just about to say somethin' sweet to me, when my phone buzzes.