Page 114
Story: Things Left Unsaid
“I put men in the watchtower nearby. We’re going to make sure whoever’s growing it knows they don’t have free rein over our turf.”
Calder’s jaw tightens. “Damn straight.”
I peer at the clock on my phone. “In fact, I need to get out there?—”
“You’re going?”
“Of course.” I study him. “First rule of ranch management. Don’t ask your men to do anything you wouldn’t do yourself.”
“Can’t see Clyde living by that rule,” he snipes.
“Clyde didn’t teach me to run a ranch,” is my simple retort. “My uncle did.
“Keep your noses clean and stop with the tagging or I’ll be taking the cleanup out of your wages. I know you hit up the Frobishers’ truck the other day. At least this time, you didn’t sign the Bar 9.”
His grin’s sheepish. “They’re assholes.”
“Yeah, I agree. Theo isn’t though. He’s good people so don’t give him any shit, you hear?”
“I hear.”
With that being said, I get to my feet and round the desk. Before he can stand, I clap him on the shoulder. “We’re family, Calder. No matter the circumstances. Your land and mine will be tied together forever. Let’s make your ancestors roll in their graves at a McAllister working with a Korhonen, hmm?”
A loud snort escapes him. “I like the sound of that, Colt.”
“Good.” I pat his arm. “Spread the word with the other two. I don’t like having to repeat myself.”
Before he can sass me anymore, I head on out, jump into my truck, lower the window as the radio blares, and get my ass over to the weed farm.
Technically, the rotation of manpower shouldn’t have started until Zee signed over the power of attorney to me, but there was no way in hell I wasn’t monitoring that situation.
It’s a beautiful day to stare at the clouds while waiting for some stoner hippie to collect his crop of weed.
I make it to the watchtower and take over for Darrel who, yawning, finishes his shift.
Then, it’s me, my thoughts, and I.
Knowing that the sound of a car on this barren stretch of the highway will give away the ‘cultivators,’ I close my eyes and take in some sun.
It’s not often I get the chance to sit and be. Which makes Calder’s belief that I’d leave this kind of chore for someone on my staff all the more hilarious—why the hell wouldn’t I want this task?
The hours pass swiftly. Mostly because the one thing on my mind is the one thing I don’t want to chase away—my new wife.
Aside from this morning whenshekissedme,Mum had a point when she said that Zee has barely left her bedroom. In fact, she’s channeling Callan two years ago when he was hooked on camgirl sites and I could barely get him into the kitchen unless I offered him new games, ice cream,andled him out of there like a donkey with a carrot in front of its nose.
Not that I think they’re doing the same thing.
But Calder’s words come back to haunt me in the sleepy somnolence of the afternoon.
Did our kiss change anything? Has it?—
A crankshaft sounds in the distance, making my eyes pop open.
The rumble of a motorbike along with the louder motor of another vehicle has me descending the watchtower, heading to my truck, and picking up the shotgun I stored in there before I drove over to the Bar 9.
Shoving some extra cartridges into my pocket, I load the shotgun and then storm over to the farm on foot.
I timed it pretty damn well—the dead stretches of highway updated me faster than radar.
Calder’s jaw tightens. “Damn straight.”
I peer at the clock on my phone. “In fact, I need to get out there?—”
“You’re going?”
“Of course.” I study him. “First rule of ranch management. Don’t ask your men to do anything you wouldn’t do yourself.”
“Can’t see Clyde living by that rule,” he snipes.
“Clyde didn’t teach me to run a ranch,” is my simple retort. “My uncle did.
“Keep your noses clean and stop with the tagging or I’ll be taking the cleanup out of your wages. I know you hit up the Frobishers’ truck the other day. At least this time, you didn’t sign the Bar 9.”
His grin’s sheepish. “They’re assholes.”
“Yeah, I agree. Theo isn’t though. He’s good people so don’t give him any shit, you hear?”
“I hear.”
With that being said, I get to my feet and round the desk. Before he can stand, I clap him on the shoulder. “We’re family, Calder. No matter the circumstances. Your land and mine will be tied together forever. Let’s make your ancestors roll in their graves at a McAllister working with a Korhonen, hmm?”
A loud snort escapes him. “I like the sound of that, Colt.”
“Good.” I pat his arm. “Spread the word with the other two. I don’t like having to repeat myself.”
Before he can sass me anymore, I head on out, jump into my truck, lower the window as the radio blares, and get my ass over to the weed farm.
Technically, the rotation of manpower shouldn’t have started until Zee signed over the power of attorney to me, but there was no way in hell I wasn’t monitoring that situation.
It’s a beautiful day to stare at the clouds while waiting for some stoner hippie to collect his crop of weed.
I make it to the watchtower and take over for Darrel who, yawning, finishes his shift.
Then, it’s me, my thoughts, and I.
Knowing that the sound of a car on this barren stretch of the highway will give away the ‘cultivators,’ I close my eyes and take in some sun.
It’s not often I get the chance to sit and be. Which makes Calder’s belief that I’d leave this kind of chore for someone on my staff all the more hilarious—why the hell wouldn’t I want this task?
The hours pass swiftly. Mostly because the one thing on my mind is the one thing I don’t want to chase away—my new wife.
Aside from this morning whenshekissedme,Mum had a point when she said that Zee has barely left her bedroom. In fact, she’s channeling Callan two years ago when he was hooked on camgirl sites and I could barely get him into the kitchen unless I offered him new games, ice cream,andled him out of there like a donkey with a carrot in front of its nose.
Not that I think they’re doing the same thing.
But Calder’s words come back to haunt me in the sleepy somnolence of the afternoon.
Did our kiss change anything? Has it?—
A crankshaft sounds in the distance, making my eyes pop open.
The rumble of a motorbike along with the louder motor of another vehicle has me descending the watchtower, heading to my truck, and picking up the shotgun I stored in there before I drove over to the Bar 9.
Shoving some extra cartridges into my pocket, I load the shotgun and then storm over to the farm on foot.
I timed it pretty damn well—the dead stretches of highway updated me faster than radar.
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