Page 48 of The Lilac River (Silver Peaks #1)

Confident – Demi Lovato

Nash

“ A re we ready for this?” I asked my brothers, standing outside the Town Hall meeting room.

The sun had dipped below the mountains, casting long shadows over the cracked asphalt of the street. The evening air in Silver Peaks clung to us. It was thick, unmoving, and tense with anticipation. Somewhere nearby, a cicada buzzed in the brush, the only sound in the silence between us.

Gunner and Wilder nodded, both stiff with fury, nerves barely kept in check. We were dressed like ranchers but moving like soldiers united, armed with the truth, and ready for war.

Inside, the townsfolk were gathered, completely unaware that their entire perception of the man behind the podium was about to be ripped apart.

“Okay,” I whispered, glancing down the hall to make sure no one overheard. “We go in, listen for five or ten minutes, then I stand up and let the bomb drop.”

“When’s Sheriff Jackson getting here?” Gunner asked, eyeing the large clock mounted high on the wall. It ticked loudly, like it knew time was running out for Dad.

“In five,” I said. “He’s agreed not to arrest Dad until after the meeting.”

“He should do it during,” Wilder snapped, his jaw tight. “He doesn’t deserve any respect.”

I placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. “I know. But I don’t want any of Dad’s bullshit about Lily or her mom spilling out to the town. If he’s cornered, he’ll lash out, and he knows she’s my weak spot.”

“He doesn’t know you two are back together though, right?” Wilder asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Gunner answered before I could. “He knows exactly what Nash feels for Lily whether she’s with him or not.”

Wasn’t that the damn truth. My dad had always seen Lily as leverage. He could smell love like blood in the water and wield it like a blade.

“Okay,” I breathed out, rolling my shoulders back. My chest felt tight. “Let’s go.”

The door creaked as we pushed it open, and thirty heads turned toward us.

The sudden hush in the room wasn’t just surprise, it was suspicion, curiosity, the sharp inhale of people sensing something was about to happen.

We rarely attended town meetings, and everyone knew about the fractured relationship we had with our father.

We walked in single file with me leading the way, every step echoing like a drumbeat. My boots hit the wood floor with purpose. I scanned the rows until I spotted three empty seats about four rows from the front. I went first, letting Gunner and Wilder slide in before I took the aisle seat.

“Sorry, Mr. Mayor,” I said coolly, feeling his eyes slice through me. “Please continue.”

Dad’s glare burned into my skull, but I didn’t flinch.

Giving us one last look of condescension, he turned back to the room.

“As I was saying before I was…” he sniffed dramatically, his lips twitching in disdain, “…interrupted, we must increase taxes on retail properties if we are to have enough money to run the town. Electricity for the holiday lights, refuse collection, street cleaning. All of it costs money.”

He looked pointedly at Joe Brubank, the hardware store owner and lifelong resident.

Joe stood, his face going red. “At the cost of a forty percent tax increase? Really?”

“Christ,” I muttered to Gunner under my breath. “Thank God we don’t have a retail business.”

“Believe me, Nash,” he murmured back, “he’s already taken more than forty percent from us.”

A commotion stirred at the back.

May Miller—no relation—stabbed a finger toward the podium. “Joe’s right! Maybe we should be asking if you, Mr. Mayor, are managing the town’s funds correctly!”

Dad’s face flushed beet red. He slammed his pen down so hard it skittered off the table and clattered to the floor.

“What exactly are you suggesting?” he barked, eyes wild.

The murmurs that followed were low but growing. A rumble of discontent rising like thunderclouds on the horizon.

“Shit,” Wilder muttered. “He’ll hang himself at this rate.”

And he would have. The room was turning. Ten solid minutes of townspeople standing up, one by one, each angrier than the last. Questions flew like arrows. Accusations followed. Even his loyal lapdog Duke Robinson looked nervous.

We couldn’t have scripted it better.

Finally, Duke banged his hand on the table, trying to corral the storm. “Any other business?”

Gunner nudged me with his elbow. “You’re up, big brother.”

Judith Larsen—the memorial garden caretaker—was halfway out of her seat, but I beat her to it, rising fast.

“Nash,” Dad said through gritted teeth, his voice oozing false calm. “Is there a valid reason for you being here? You do realize this meeting concerns town business, not ranch business?”

“I do,” I replied, voice calm, deliberate. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out the crinkled receipt, unfolding it slowly. “This is about the creek.”

Dad frowned, confused but not yet worried. “As I said, that’s not really applicable to this meeting.”

Calvin Taylor stood up. He’d been briefed. Not fully, but just enough. “I think it is applicable, Mr. Mayor,” he said, voice clear and loud. “Seeing as we’re all waiting to hear if our water’s contaminated.”

That got the room.

The buzz was instant. People straightened in their chairs. Depending on the flow, it could go into the town water supply. Even if they didn’t drink from it directly, they still swam in it. They let their kids fish from it. This wasn’t just a ranch issue anymore.

Dad’s eyes flicked from face to face, assessing. He could feel the crowd turning on him. If he shut me down now, it would look like guilt. He knew it. I saw the exact moment he realized he couldn’t stop what was coming.

He gave me that look.

The one from when we were kids and did something wrong. The one that promised retribution later. The one that came right before a barrage of put downs and verbal bullets.

“Go ahead,” he snapped.

I cleared my throat, heart thudding. Time to bring the house down.

“This here’s a receipt,” I said, holding it high, “for two barrels of chemical pesticide that were dumped into the creek on our land. Right where the water runs off into Calvin’s land and into the Jenkins property.”

Gasps.

I let the silence stretch just enough to twist the tension tight.

“We didn’t buy these chemicals. We don’t use them. Hell, we wouldn’t even have a use for them.”

Dad’s face remained blank. Cold. Stone still.

But I knew.

He was cornered.

“What’s your point?” Duke asked, impatience seeping into his tone. “What are you asking the Mayor to do?”

I turned toward the crowd. My voice lifted, even and deliberate.

“I’m asking the Mayor to explain why he purchased those two barrels of a banned chemical,” I said, “just two days before they were dumped. Why this receipt, made out in his name, was found in his home.”

That was the spark.

The room exploded.

Dad shot to his feet so fast his chair toppled behind him.

“How the hell did you?—”

“Mr. Mayor,” Duke hissed, grabbing at his sleeve. “Please sit down. And say nothing.”

Dad collapsed back into his chair, sweating, gulping water like it might save him.

But it wouldn’t.

Calvin stormed forward, shouting. “I’ll sue you personally for this, you mark my words!”

Chaos erupted. People were yelling over one another, demanding to see the receipt, calling for Dad’s resignation. Duke tried to defend him, voice shaky, “Why would the Mayor hurt the ranch, his own land?”

Gunner stood, fury in every line of his body.

“Why would we?” he snapped. “This is our home. Our family’s legacy but he wants us to find it too damn hard.

He wants us to believe we have no choices.

Imagine the cost of the fine, it would cripple us financially and then he’d have no choice but to sell our land. ”

“And that goes for the Mayor, too!” Duke flailed. “It’s his land. It would be ludicrous.”

Dad shrank deeper into his seat.

“Well, you see,” Wilder roared, holding the second piece of evidence high above his head. “That’s where you’re wrong. This copy of our mother’s will that he had hidden says different.”

Silence slammed down. Heavy. Immediate.

Wilder’s voice rang out.

“This will. The one that left him nothing. This one he buried so he could keep control over us and our ranch.”

A beat of stunned disbelief.

Then Dad’s face turned ghost white.

His glass fell from his hand and shattered on the floor.

“You traitorous bastards!” he screamed, jabbing his finger at us. “Breaking into my home?—”

“Michael,” Duke tried.

“Shut up, you ass wipe!” Dad bellowed.

He slammed his fists on the table. “I’ll have you arrested! I’ll?—”

“I think we’ve heard enough, Mr. Miller,” came a calm but firm voice from the doorway.

All heads turned.

Sheriff Jackson stood with two deputies: his eyes hard as flint.

He walked down the aisle with slow, unshakable steps, and gave me a short nod.

“Sorry, Nash. He looked like he was about to get violent. I couldn’t wait.”

“You can’t do this!” Dad screeched. “I’m your Mayor. I’ll have your badge!”

Sheriff Jackson didn’t flinch.

“Deputies, take him into custody.”

“And you,” he added to Duke, who had turned pale as milk, “sit your ass down. We’ll be having a little chat, too.”

People watched in stunned silence as Dad was cuffed and led away.

The Sheriff turned to the room. “Everyone else go home. Meeting’s over.”

We stood still as the room cleared around us. As whispers echoed and judgment passed quietly from neighbor to neighbor.

The truth was out.

I turned to the Sheriff as he pulled out two evidence bags.

“Thanks,” I said.

“You did good,” he replied. “But this is just the beginning. Will tampering alone? That’s going to court. As for the chemicals, we’ve already matched the credit card. We’re getting CCTV from the supplier now.”

“He’s a real shit criminal mastermind.” Gunner gave a lopsided grin. “Think it’ll stick?”

“Oh,” the Sheriff said grimly. “It’ll stick. The only question is how many years.”

He clapped me on the shoulder and walked off, barking orders at his deputies.

I turned to my brothers, breath catching in my throat.

“That’s it,” I said. “He’s out of our hair.”

“Let’s hope it’s for good,” Gunner muttered.

I nodded. “Let’s go home. Lily needs to hear this.”

As we walked through the lobby and out into the warm Silver Peaks night, I felt it—relief. But also, sadness. A bone-deep grief for the father we should’ve had. For what he chose to be instead.

Still, we had each other.

And tonight, we took back our future. First, though, there was something I had to do.