Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 68736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68736 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Guilt prickles my skin as Scott's anger sinks in. He's right. I should have told them what Jethro said immediately. It was an overt threat to not only their business but them too. Why didn't I? The truth is hard to swallow.
It was back when I blamed them for my own misfortune. I didn't trust them, and as much as Jethro's appearance and manner made my skin crawl, the small resentful part of me liked that someone else felt the same about the Bradfords as me. I liked that the Flints felt the same resentment about something that really wasn't the Bradfords' fault because it made me feel less vindictive and petty. We were allies in our bitterness, and I put that before any loyalty I should have had to the men who were housing and employing me. It makes me feel sick to my stomach.
"You should go back to the house," Cash says to me. "This isn't the place for you…not today."
I know he's right. They have so much to figure out, and I'm only getting in the way, but that doesn't stop me from experiencing the sting of rejection. It doesn't stop me from building his actions and Scott's harsh words and expressions into something else.
The fear that this could change everything.
As I nod and pull Lady's reins to steer her back to the Flint House, my heart aches with panic.
And just like that, my heart that was soaring like an eagle comes crashing back down to land.
27
I leave Lady to run in the paddock and head back to the house, wiping my sweaty brow with the cuff of my shirt. Regret settles in my stomach, and embarrassment too. What kind of person am I to put my resentment before the Bradfords’ safety and livelihood? Not the kind of person that my momma raised me to be, that's for sure. As I round the front of the house, I notice the front door is ajar. That's strange. I'm certain we locked up this morning but maybe, in our haste to leave and my excitement about a day out with the boys, we forgot. By the time I'm close enough to notice the splintered edge to the door, my heart is already racing.
Stopping abruptly, I swivel, noticing the indentations in the driveway from wheels that have spun and turned at pace. There were people here. People who broke in while we went out to find dead cattle at the ranch perimeter. People who could still be here?
I don't know what to do. Should I sprint back to Lady and alert Cash and the others? They have enough on their plate right now, don't they? I take a step closer to the house, craning my ear closer. There's no sound coming from inside. No sign that there is anyone still here.
I take another step closer and then another, making sure my feet don't make a sound against the dirt. Another and another, and I'm close enough to glance into the window. The kitchen looks empty, so I make my way forward tentatively, glancing over my shoulder the whole way. At the door, I take a deep breath, stepping into the kitchen, straining to hear anything that might give an intruder away.
The house is silent, so I take another step inside. From here, I can see into the whole kitchen, and it's a mess. All the washing up has been swept off the counter onto the flint-tiled floor. Chairs have been overturned and drawers torn from the cabinets and emptied onto the floor. Everything that I did to make this disheveled house into a home has been undone. It's like I was never here at all.
And then I notice something in the corner.
Big Boy's bed is upside down, and Big Boy isn't here.
He's always here. The poor old thing only moves to relieve himself or, on occasion, to seek out a pat from the boys or me. Maybe he's somewhere in the house, scared out of his mind. Maybe he's hurt. My fear for Big Boy makes me forget the danger I could be in. Instead of tiptoeing, I run forward, calling his name. I rush through the house, making my way into each room, looking under tables and beds, desperate to find him.
He's nowhere.
Maybe he went outside during the disturbance. Maybe he ran through the open front door because he was scared.
I check all around the house and in the yard, but he's nowhere to be seen.
He's too infirm to get any further. His legs simply wouldn't have carried him, even if he was scared.
It's then that I know.
The Bradfords need to be taught a lesson. That's what Jethro Flint said. He's poisoned their animals and ransacked their home. Who knows what he's taken from the house? Paperwork. Money. Other sentimental valuables that can't be replaced. This isn't just about getting back the wealth they feel has been stolen from them. If it were, they would've taken the cattle rather than inflicted death. They would have tried to get as much as they could.