Page 50 of On the Land, We Shoot Straight

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ole’s boot slipped into the stirrup, and his lean body swung up into the saddle as Chloe darted forward a few steps in a skittish trot.

He leaned forward and whispered in her pricked-up ears, the smile on his lips genuine and carefree before they took off at a canter.

Grady watched from the shadows in the barn, guarded from the slow return of the heat, free to look his fill without Cole having to worry about being watched.

He knew Cole was healing, but it was only when he was riding that he seemed fully himself.

When Cole came in at noon, the smile on his face dimmed when he saw Grady sitting at the kitchen table.

Grady knew it was the shame, and no matter how many times he could tell Cole he had nothing to be ashamed of, Cole was going to keep on carrying it.

He decided to try and come at this another way, a way he’d been thinking on since JP said that name.

“Reckon she’ll be ready for Regionals?” he asked in an attempt to soften the ground.

Grady had taken to reading the tiny box in the paper dedicated to the happenings of the fancy riding, and he knew a regional competition was coming up in the city.

If Cole qualified, he’d go on to ride the newly named Championships, once known as the National Rally, in the north.

The article had talked about making it all more professional.

Seeing Cole ride, Grady reckoned this had been the path he’d been angling for.

Cole snorted a derisive laugh, but at least it made the shame fall away. “She’s ready, but I ain’t gonna show my face there. C’mon.”

Grady hadn’t anticipated that response. He didn’t like it, and he wanted to push—tell Cole he ain’t got nothing to be ashamed of, and if he wanted to ride professional, then he should. But that was another conversation.

Cole went about fixing a coffee, pulling the plate of food Grady had made up for him out of the fridge, a surprised smile on his lips when Grady pointed it out. Grady waited until he was done eating before he spoke.

“Carter,” he said and watched Cole swallow his mouthful of coffee very carefully. “He’s your brother, ain’t he?”

“Yeah,” Cole replied slowly. “What of it.”

“He was looking for you,” Grady said. There was something about Cole not being completely abandoned Grady was fixated on. He didn’t know if it was to make himself feel better or he wanted to remind Cole of that fact, wanted to show him he wasn’t alone in this world. People—Grady—were on his side.

“He was lookin’ for somethin’,” Cole muttered.

“He wasn’t tryin’ to look out for you?” Grady pressed.

Cole sat back with a deep sigh. “I dunno,” he answered.

He rubbed his hand through his hair, let loose after his ride, and fixed his gaze on the screen door.

“I seen him, seen him at the wheat silos. He was all, ‘Jesse, ya gotta come on now, ya gotta let it go.’ But he don’t know nothin’ about it.

All he ever cared about was gettin’ outta here.

He had no idea what he was talkin’ about, and anyway, that wasn’t his motive. ”

“What was his motive?” Grady asked when Cole didn’t go on, but Cole had clammed up good, face set in the way that meant he was once again holding back a breaking point, and Grady knew it was time to let it go.

“You wanna check the cattle—” Grady said at the same as Cole said, “Carter ain’t all bad, but he’s bad enough. Just like—”

“Just like?” Grady asked.

Cole looked at him then, serious and steady, those black eyes like pools of hate. “Just like the rest of ’em.”

Grady nodded. He didn’t know what that meant exactly, but he liked Cole looking at him on the level again, and that was enough.

“Reckon we might have some calves comin’,” he said and stood.

He waited for Cole to suggest they ride out and camp it, but he didn’t. Grady didn’t press—Cole meeting his gaze, showing some fire, was enough for now.