Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70445 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
But I suddenly understand who he means before he says it. I dread hearing the name, dread the memory. I look to the side, and it’s like Rosie’s right there, laughing at me, blowing those big bubbles. Stupid fucking horse girl.
“Daisy,” Dad rasps and I want to cry. Daisy, Rosie’s little sister, a year younger than me. “Stepped up when you left. Very involved in the business side of things. Smart girl. Too smart.”
“If she’s so involved, why isn’t she here right now?”
He gives me a look and says nothing.
I pace away from the bed. The equipment is making me feel horrible, and Dad’s sunken eyes are terrifying, and too much is happening all at once. I wasn’t ready for this, and now that it’s happening, I want to get out. I want to run away.
I have to remind myself, again, why I’m here. For me, for Bomber. To prove that I can handle it.
“Did you think Daisy would tamper with someone else?” I ask, trying to get my bearings.
“Very likely, yes. She doesn’t want you coming back.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m dying, Melody, and I want to leave the ranch to you.”
I stop pacing and stare at him, mouth hanging open.
This is too much. It’s much, much too much. I knew he was dying and I was ready to have that conversation, but to hear him bluntly offer me Leader Ranch is like taking a knife to my liver. I try to find some words, but what is there to say? How can I tell my dying father that this place is a nightmare for me, that the worst moments of my life all happened here, that I’d rather burn it all to the ground than own it? He’s an old man and he doesn’t have much time left in the world. How can I look him in the face and tell him to go to hell?
“Dad,” I say and stare down at my feet. “I’ve been gone for a while. I don’t know anything about running this place.” Which isn’t strictly true, but he doesn’t need to know that.
He chuckles, low and throaty, and coughs for a few seconds. It’s an ugly, bone-deep hack. “I know you don’t want it, Melody. You don’t have to say so. But I didn’t go to all this trouble to keep War’s mission a secret from your cousin just to say hello and goodbye. I’m going to be dead in a few weeks, a few months if I’m lucky, and when I’m gone I need someone I can trust to run this place. You want to know why you’re here? Look around outside. You’ll see why.” He coughs again, harder this time, and I have to go over and give him the water. His hands shake as he drinks it.
Lorraine comes in, summoned by the coughing fit, and I’m ushered out with kind words and a sad smile. Dad’s watching me the whole time, and I watch him spit blood into a tissue as the door shuts. I walk down the hall, overwhelmed and dizzy, and I find War still sitting in the kitchen.
“How’d that go?” he asks, coming over to me, looking concerned. He puts a hand on my arm, and I don’t shake him away this time. I need the comfort and whatever strength he can provide, even if I trust him about as much as my father does.
“He looked bad,” I say, and War helps me over to a stool. I sit down, feeling numb. “Worse than bad. He says weeks.”
“I’m sorry,” War says, tightening his grip on me, and for a moment it anchors me into the room.
“He wants to leave the ranch to me. He wants me to take it over when he’s gone.”
War says nothing for a long moment and we sit there in silence.
Until the front door opens. The sound of laughter and people. War’s grip is hard on my arm, and I look up as three people come into the room.
The first is Aunt Noreen with her white hair and thin face. She looks surprised, nearly shocked at the sight of me. Next is Kerry, Aunt Jade’s oldest daughter, looking tall and healthy in jeans and a button-down. She stares, and says nothing, eyebrows raised, but not looking altogether unfriendly.
Daisy comes in last.
She looks so much like her sister, Rosie. Daisy’s tan, brown hair, green eyes, skinny but muscled from working outdoors. She’s in jeans and a light sweater, and her eyes narrow to slits when she sees me. Nobody speaks, and War’s tension infects me, and I wonder if he’s about to spring forward and smack one of those women over the head with a chair.
Daisy breaks the quiet, like I knew she would. She was always the first one to speak up, the first one to get up from dinner, the first one to suggest a new game, the first one across the finish line.