Page 26 of Finding His Redemption

“Was it an accident?” The question popped out before he could think better of asking it.

“Nope. Premeditated as shit.”

“Then why aren’t you still behind bars?”

“Did five years for manslaughter instead of life for murder. Should’ve done life.” River didn’t look at him, but the smile slid from his face and his hands tightened on the reins. Then he exhaled and smacked the brim of his hat back into place. “Anyway?—”

A scrub jay exploded from a nearby juniper, making Lazy Susan snort and stop dead. River’s horse spooked sideways, nearly unseating him. He let out a whoop, rode out the spin, and grinned back at Jax.

“See? Feature, not a bug.”

Jax shook his head. “You’re going to break your neck on that horse.”

“Nah,” River said, cheerful again, and leaned down to pat the chestnut mustang’s neck. “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot won’t ever buck me. Will you, baby?”

“You named your horse What The Fuck?”

“He mostly goes by Tango, but yeah. It started as a joke and stuck. Look at him.” He gestured at the gelding, who was noweyeing a butterfly with deep suspicion. “Tell me that’s not a WTF look if you ever saw one.”

Jax had to admit the horse looked like he was perpetually questioning his life choices. “Fair point.”

“Your girl Suzy’s more of a whatever horse. She’s seen it all and can’t be bothered to give a damn.”

Jax stared down at his horse’s twitching ears. “Well, we’ve got that in common.”

They took a side trail where the grass grew in thick, fragrant tufts, wind combing the meadow in shifting directions. If Jax had been in another mood, he might have found it beautiful. As it was, all he found was the feeling of being far from anywhere he could run.

River gestured toward a ridge in the distance. “That’s the northwest corner of the property. The Ridge’s got nearly two thousand acres, most of it mountains and forest.” He turned Tango with a casual shift of his weight. “We’ve got one more section to check, then we can head back. Boone’s gonna want you working with Echo this afternoon. Oh, by the way, City Boy,” he added and held up a dented stainless steel thermos. “You’re officially banned from the coffee pot. This is fucking awful.”

“You’re drinking it.”

“Desperation, my friend.” River took a long swig and grimaced. “When a man’s hungover and faced with goat invasions, standards drop.”

Jax urged his horse to catch up. She snorted and plodded forward. “Thought alcohol was forbidden.”

“Ah, Boone gave you that speech, huh? Those ironclad rules he harps on about are really more like suggestions. We pretend we don’t break them, and he pretends he doesn’t know we break them. As long as we keep it out of the bunkhouse, and keep ourselves out of that trouble we’re all so fond of.” He turned hishorse so abruptly that Jax had to yank on Lazy Susan’s reins to avoid a collision.

“No hard drugs, though.” For the first time since Jax met him, River’s expression hardened, all traces of humor vanishing. “Don’t fuck with that here. We had a guy who did. Walker found out. That guy don’t live here anymore.”

“I’m five years clean and sober.”

“Good. So are Boone, Jonah, and Bear, but the rest of us like to indulge in a beer or two after work. If you don’t want us drinking around you, you tell us.”

“Doesn’t bother me.”

“All right then.”

They rode in silence for a while, the only sounds the creak of saddle leather and the occasional snort from the horses. The trail narrowed, winding through a stand of aspens, their new leaves catching the spring sunlight.

River pointed toward a cluster of birch trees, their trunks pale against the pines. “That’s the border with Cole’s land. He likes his privacy.”

Jax raised a hand to shield his eyes, squinting against a sun that now shone bright and hot with an apparent vendetta. Maybe those cowboy hats everyone wore around here weren’t just for looks.

Through the trees, he could just make out a simple cabin with a solar panel on the roof, smoke coiling from a stovepipe. There was a battered pick-up beside the cabin, and a black animal that looked more hellhound than dog sleeping on the porch. A muscular, heavily tattooed man chopped wood in the yard.

“Evander Cole?” Jax guessed.

River wasn’t paying attention. His gaze was on a pair of birds circling the sky overhead. “Huh,” he muttered. “Not a good omen.”