Page 43 of Cruelest Contract (Storm’s Eye Ranch)

CECILIA

V igilance could have been drawn right from my small town fantasies. Whenever I come here I discover something new. Today Tye takes a small detour to show me the high school attended by all the Tempesta boys.

“I’m jealous,” I say as we pass a stately red brick building that looks exactly the way a high school ought to look. “I was forced to attend a strict boarding school in northern Washington. Pretty scenery but otherwise a very cheerless place to spend your formative years.”

Tye rolls to a stop in front of Vigilance High. School has already let out for the summer. Aside from a sprinkling of cars in the parking lot, the campus appears empty.

Julian must have jogged up those steps to the main entrance countless times.

Still, I have trouble picturing him as a high school student, sitting in a classroom with his peers and obediently listening to a lesson on Mark Twain or quadratic equations.

I just can’t imagine him in any setting where he’s not in a position of authority.

“We paid for all that,” Tye boasts and points to a football field that’s far larger and more lavish than the usual grass and bleachers found in typical American high schools.

“Best high school field in the state. I played for my first two years of high school but after that I was busy with hockey. Getty and Fort also played for a couple of seasons.”

I turn around to look at Getty in the backseat.

He’s paying no attention to the conversation and stares out the window with supreme irritation carved into his posture.

He gives me a ‘ What the fuck do you want?’ glare and then turns his head away, moody as ever.

Each time I think we’re about to make a breakthrough and be civil, I’m proven wrong.

I rub my hand over my bad knee. “Julian never played sports?”

Tye takes his foot off the brake and steers away from the curb. “Only his freshman year. He was good too. Good at football, even better at hockey. I couldn’t outskate him. Fuck knows I tried.”

“How come he didn’t stick with it?”

A rare frown coasts over Tye’s face. “Dad had big plans for him. Plus he always got stuck watching out for us.”

I’m sad to hear that Julian abandoned his own interests in order to deal with family obligations. This sounds exactly like something he would do without a second thought. But my heart aches for the young boy who had too many responsibilities dropped into his lap.

Julian’s fate was decided for him. Yet I’m sure he’s never complained. Not his style. I touch the mostly healed cut on my forefinger and wonder what he’s doing right now all the way in New York.

The day I met Julian, he stood apart from the boys and their antics, far more of a man at seventeen than many men twice his age.

I was in awe and thought to myself that he must have the freedom to do anything he wants.

But my childish assumption was wrong. Julian has always carried a heavy weight of responsibility.

Vigilance isn’t spread out at all and that’s partly why I like it. Most of the commerce is clustered on Front Street and the whimsical building facades have an old fashioned frontier town look.

Tye is still determined to get his ice cream and we park in the shade of a thick cottonwood tree with gnarled branches reaching in every direction like twisted arms. There’s a short protective fence around the trunk and roots are punching up out of the concrete.

“They used to chain outlaws to that,” Tye says after we exit the truck.

“To the tree?” I ask.

“Sure. Back in the old days when there were gunslingers and shit. They hadn’t built a jail yet and there was no place to put the bad guys so they just chained them to this tree for a while.”

“Is that accurate?” I look to Getty for confirmation but he’s ignoring us both.

“Don’t you believe me?” Tye pouts.

“Sometimes you have an unstable relationship with the truth.”

He laughs and wags a finger. “You’ll be sorry you said that.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s a sign over there. You go read it. I’ll stay here and await an apology.”

A brass plaque is mounted on a low stone pillar. Tye’s description isn’t far off. In the early days of Vigilance, anyone causing a disturbance was kept here at this tree until a judge could be tracked down.

“Told you so,” Tye says.

“I’m sorry for doubting you.” I join him on the sidewalk, made of wood planks and extending the length of the commerce district on both sides of the street. Each step of our boots makes a satisfying hollow thud.

“I forgive you,” he says and then his face falls. “Shit. Know what? The ice cream place isn’t open yet.”

“Why don’t we go in here?” I suggest, pointing to an adorable bakery called Sugar Jean’s.

I’ve eyed the place on every trip to town and I’m eager see the inside.

A mint green and cotton candy pink shade stretches over the sidewalk.

A tempting selection of baked goods is on the other side of the window beside a painted cartoon graphic showing a sweet-faced woman with white hair and huge pink-framed glasses. I like her already.

“Come on, I’ll buy you a cookie,” I coax Tye.

Easy sell. Tye’s chief motivations are food and sex. He dashes over to hold the door open.

Two identical women are behind the counter. Introductions reveal they are the twin daughters of Sugar Jean herself, now retired. They fuss over Tye. When they hear I’m Julian’s new wife, they also fuss over me. They make a valiant attempt to fuss over Getty but he refuses to even smile.

Naturally, all the locals are very familiar with the Tempestas. In the short time we spend inside Sugar Jean’s, every customer who walks in greets Tye and Getty with either polite words or a wary nod.

Tye turns out to be a decent shopping buddy, patient and good humored. After we leave Sugar Jean’s, we visit two boutiques and I get to use Julian’s card to purchase some colorful throw pillows and a framed pastel illustration of downtown Vigilance that will look nice in the bedroom.

All the while, Getty stays within a few footsteps, a grumpy wraith who responds with a deliberately unnerving stare when anyone greets him.

He’s made it clear that shepherding his brother’s wife around town isn’t his dream afternoon.

Really, he’s kind of a drag but I suspect telling him to get lost won’t be well received.

Julian gave the impression that the Tempesta family owns quite a bit of real estate around town. When I ask Tye for details he shrugs and says he doesn’t pay much attention to business but admits most of the buildings on the commercial strip are family owned.

Shortly before noon, Tye demands to be fed again. The Rustler Steakhouse is a stand-alone weathered wood building at the north end of Front Street. Inside, the lighting is dim and the theme is a wild west saloon.

Our waiter is named Katz. His clothes are no different than what I see the wranglers on the ranch wearing and a red bandana hangs around his thick neck. He and Tye are obviously friendly, bantering about sports while Getty sullenly scans the menu.

The menu drops from Getty’s hands to the table when two men rise from the bar and head for the exit. His expression swings to a deadly glare.

“Gaetano,” Tye warns. “Take it easy.”

“They’re not supposed to fucking be here,” Getty growls and deftly moves his hand to his holstered gun.

The men slow down long enough to quietly look us over. They wear grimy leather cuts over flannel shirts and from here I can’t read the words on the patches affixed to their jackets.

The man on the left is considerably younger and more handsome than his companion. His eyes zero in on me, trailing over my body and back to my face. Every instinct I have senses a threat. If we were alone in a room, I have no doubt he would harm me.

Getty’s head whips from him to me and back again. He hisses out a string of guttural curses and stands so quickly that his chair topples. He moves in front of me with his gun drawn.

The older man raises both hands in a peace gesture. Then he throws his partner a dirty look, grabs him by the back of the jacket and hustles him out of the restaurant.

Painted on the back the older man’s jacket is a skull above a pair of pistols. When I squint, I see the words Lord Mountain Motorcycle Club.

Now that the tense moment is over, Tye flips his menu around and starts whistling. Getty is slower to relax and keeps standing with his gun in his hand until we hear the thunder of motorcycle engines fade in the distance.

My heart is still pounding as Getty jerks his chair upright and sits down. He leaves his gun on the table and takes a defiant scan of the room, daring anyone to argue.

“I think I’m gonna get the ribeye,” Tye says, already forgetting the incident.

I swallow and try to regulate my thrashing heartbeat. “Those men looked familiar.”

Katz drops off a trio of sodas and a basket of bread. He throws Getty a nervous glance but doesn’t order him to put his gun away as he takes our orders.

Tye waits for the waiter to retreat before saying, “Yeah, we saw some of the Lords the night we went to Laramie. Just a pack of trashy pests but we have an agreement. We let them carry on with their bullshit and they steer clear of Vigilance.”

“They’re getting pretty fucking bold,” Getty seethes. “Looks like they need a refresher on consequences.”

“You can take that up with Julian,” Tye says and passes him the bread basket. “But for now, eat a damn butter roll and behave.”

The tension in the air remains palpable. Getty stays intensely focused on the door in case anyone else he dislikes walks through it.

I tear a roll in half and search for a harmless topic. “This morning when I spoke to Julian he and Fort were at your uncle’s pizzeria. It’s nice that they get to see family while they’re in New York.”

“Too bad you didn’t get to meet Uncle Sal yet,” Tye says. “He’s pretty cool.”

“Your mother’s older brother, right? And he has just the two sons?”

“That’s right. Monte and Nico used to come out for visits during the summer. Wait, you met Nico at the wedding. Monte works with his dad now and he just got married recently so that might be why he didn’t show up.”

I smile. “I didn’t know Monte was a newlywed.”

Tye shrugs. “I guess it’s not so new. He and Sabrina got married last summer. Know what’s funny though? Sabrina was supposed to come out here and marry one of us but then Monte snatched her away first and-”

“TYE!” Getty roars.

He’s so loud that the men at the bar swivel on their stools to find the source of the noise. When they spot the Tempesta brothers in the middle of a stare down, they quickly turn their seats around.

My mouth goes dry and no sound penetrates my ears. There are so many emotions unraveling inside my chest and they are all painful.

Meanwhile, Getty and Tye are having a silent conversation. Getty’s eyes are narrowed with anger. Tye’s shoulders drop and I think he’d prefer to crawl under his chair. The look he gives me is full of sheepish regret.

There’s not much mystery about what just happened.

Tye accidentally revealed a secret piece of information, one that he was forbidden to share. Julian must have given his brothers strict orders not to tell me that other potential brides have been invited to Storm’s Eye Ranch before I showed up.

Getty’s eyes have now shifted to me and the anger has vanished. He leans forward like he’s on the verge of speaking but I’m about three seconds away from dissolving into tears.

“I need to use the restroom,” I mumble and push back from the table.

I’m in such a hurry that I fail to grab my purse as I streak toward the back of the restaurant, following the sign for the ladies’ room. Before I close the door I hear Tye say, “Fuck.”

The bathroom has two stalls and neither are occupied. I can’t lock the bathroom door from the inside so my only option is to sit on a toilet, flip the stall latch and hyperventilate alone.

Why couldn’t I have brought my phone?

I badly need to talk to Alice. Or Gabe. Or anyone who actually loves me.

But honestly, that’s probably the end of the list.

An indeterminate amount of time passes when the bathroom door whispers open.

“Cecilia?” says Tye, as timid and forlorn as I’ve ever heard him.

“Leave me alone,” I mutter and tear off a segment of toilet paper to deal with my running nose.

He sighs and walks all the way inside. I see the tips of his boots under the stall. “The food is on the table. Please come out. I really need to tell you something.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Tye. Just let me be for a few minutes.”

His boots don’t move. I can hear him breathing and I’m sure he’s wracking his brain for something appropriate to say.

He shouldn’t waste his time. Nothing will make me feel better right now.

“ Please ,” I beg. “I’ll be out of here soon. And then I don’t want to talk about this at all. I mean it. Okay?”

“Okay,” he finally says.

In a few seconds the door opens and closes again. I unclench the fists balled up in my lap and try to force my breathing to slow down.

Hiding out in a steakhouse bathroom isn’t a permanent solution. Eventually, I’ll need to go out there and confront the pity of Julian’s brothers. Even if Tye honors my request not to mention any of this again, the unspoken humiliation will still sit heavily in the air.

But I have no one else one to blame, not really.

This is a consequence of a contract marriage to a man you hardly know.

After it’s done, you just might find out something that crushes you.

Like how you weren’t even his first choice.