“Things felt different the last time I saw Anna,” I tell Wes, turning my gaze away from my family’s land. “When we took Charlie to the hospital for those stitches, it was…” I search for the right word, but it evades me, so I shrug. “Different. It felt like we were on the same side again.” I’ll see her tomorrow morning when I take the kids to her parents for her weekend, and I’m praying it’ll be the good experience we had last time. Minus the stitches.
Wes’s lips purse, and I know he’s exercising extreme control right now. He was furious when she left me and the kids. His opinion of Anna is very low, and I can see why. But if he knew the truth about why she left, he wouldn’t be so upset. I can’t be mad at him for judging her harshly. She knew it was going to happen, and so did I, but she made me promise to keep her secret. And as much as I hated it, as much as I didn’t agree with her, it wasn’t my place. So I went along with her lie, and two years later, I’m still going along with it.
“Is that what you want, Warner? To have Anna back, after she left you and the kids to find herself?” The last two words are so soaked with disdain, they’re dripping.
I drag a hand over the back of my neck, rubbing at the tense muscle. “You wouldn’t understand, Wes. You’ve never loved a woman for nearly two decades and made a family with her.” Turning away from all that seems plain wrong.
Wes’s lips straighten into a harsh line. I shouldn’t have said that. Wes didn’t do those things because he was off serving our country, and then when he got out, he was battling the leftover wounds.
Wes sighs. He opens his mouth to speak but our dad walks in. He’s a big man, tall and broad-shouldered, physical characteristics he passed down to his three sons. He is soft around the middle now, and his face is deeply lined. He had a heart attack almost a year ago, and I spent the twenty-four hours that followed remembering every important thing the man taught me.
Dad holds up his cell phone, nods his head at it, and hits a button. “You’re on speaker, Mayor.”
“Thanks, Beau.” Mayor Cruz’s deep voice fills the kitchen. “Wes, you there?”
Wes glances with uncertainty at our dad, then says, “I’m here, Mayor. What can I do for you?”
“Cary Lindstrom fell off his horse and broke his pelvis. He had signed up to teach that actress about ranching before the movie starts shooting, and I need to replace him.”
“Why you?” Wes asks. “Don’t they have people for that?” He gestures flippantly in the air with his hands at the word ‘people.’
“I’m sure they do,” the Mayor says, his tone clipped. “But I know people with experience and knowledge. A local from Sierra Grande makes for better publicity.”
“Maybe they can forget shooting the movie here altogether and go torture another town,” I mutter. I was late getting Charlie and Peyton to school this morning because of the increased traffic. They’re everywhere, they don’t know where to go, and they don’t pay attention while they’re doing it.
“That you, Warner?” Mayor Cruz asks.
“It’s me, Mayor.”
“We need the movie almost as much as the movie needs our scenery. I’m sure I don’t have to remind any of the Hayden men about the bad press our town has had in the past year.” He lets it hang out in the air, the reminder of the meth lab that exploded just off our property last summer.
“That wasn’t on our land, Mayor.” Wes’s tone is even, but he sends a middle finger to the phone. One side of my dad’s mouth lifts in a smile.
“All the same, it made the state paper, and a small town like Sierra Grande doesn’t need a bad reputation. Wes, your wife has done a good job of bringing tourists to this town with The Orchard, and I’d like to see that continue. It’s nothing but good for the local economy, even if it creates a little traffic.” His jab is directed at me, no doubt. And then, Mayor Cruz takes it one step further. “Warner, I have a great idea. Let’s have you become the actress’s teacher. You can let her follow you around, teach her to ride, whatever else she needs.”
I make a face and shake my head, even though he can’t see me.
Wes lifts a stiff upright palm in the air, telling me he’s got this. “Mayor, with all due respect, Warner is my right-hand man on the ranch. I need him.”
“He can still work, Wes. He’ll just have a shadow.”
“I’ll think it over and call you back,” Wes says. He doesn’t like being told what to do any more than the rest of us. It’s a Hayden trait, and it’s indiscriminate of gender. My mother, Jessie, and even Peyton will tell you where you can stick your commands.
“Don’t wait too long,” the mayor warns. “She’s here and she was supposed to start this morning.” The line goes quiet, and my dad tucks his phone back into his pocket, checking first to make sure the line isn’t still active.
“He’s right, Wes,” my dad walks closer. His white undershirt peeks out from the top button of his denim button-up. He stops a foot from Wes. “You’ve got to start thinking about what’s best for this ranch, and unfortunately that sometimes means doing things you don’t want to do. You didn’t want to sell that land to Dakota, and look how that turned out for you.”
Wes scowls. A low sound that’s close to a laugh rumbles in the back of my throat. “It’s true, brother.” I pat his shoulder. “You had no desire to sell that land, but it turned out well for every person in this town, and not just because you got a wife and the business out of the deal.”
An old family rule made it so that Wes couldn’t inherit the Hayden Cattle Company unless he was married. Dakota solved that problem for him, but had he refused the sale of the land, he’d still be single and pining for the family business.
Wes grins at me, and I know well enough to be alarmed by it. “What?” I ask sharply.
“Would you prefer your student call you Warner, or Mr. Hayden?”
My jaw tightens. “Wes—”
“Sorry, can’t talk now.” An exaggerated apologetic look replaces his smile. “Gotta tell the mayor I’ve found Cary’s replacement.”
“Fuck you,” I snarl under my breath.
“Naw, I’m good, thanks. By the way, the new logos came. Make sure you grab one out of Dad’s office and put it on your truck.” He makes a kissing sound at me on his way out of the kitchen.
I start for him, but my dad stops me with a hand on my shoulder. I could easily push past him, but I don’t. Beau Hayden isn’t someone to be trifled with. He might look all of his seventy years, but that’s just a number. What it really means is that for seven decades he’s been kicking ass and burying secrets.
“Come on,” he says, lightly shoving me toward the back door. “Wyatt’s in the stable, helping the farrier shoe horses. Get your ass out there and help him.”
7
Warner
“I’m excited to see Mom.” Peyton glances at me from the passenger seat, assessing my reaction.
I hate that she does that. Correction: I hate that she feels the need to do that. She shouldn’t be worried about how I feel.