Keeping Our Home (Holliday Book 2)

by Sarah R. Silas

  Her father grunted. He had gone back to reading the lawsuit.

  "I said, there's been a sale offer, and a rumor of another one," she said, with more courage. She had stuck her toe over the line, and now she eased her foot and the rest of herself over.

  He looked up at her again and closed the laptop. "What?"

  "A guy came over the other day, offering a shit ton of money for the ranch," she said.

  "A guy?"

  "Yeah, and the same company that bought the Kent Ranch is looking to expand all over this area and so they're gonna start buying up all the ranches. They're called Diamondback. I looked into them. They’re into mining, natural gas, fracking, the whole nine yards. Even development," she said.

  "Diamondback. A guy. E. coli lawsuit. Mushrooms," he mumbled.

  She saw it in his eyes, it was coming, the freak out over the world turning. But instead, he closed his eyes, rubbing them with his fingers. "Well, we'll get through this, just like Aggie," he said.

  "You're not going to consider the offers?"

  "I'd consider selling you first Lilith," he snapped. "And if you think that's a joke, you'd only be a little ways off 'cause I need you to inherit the damn place. Is this what you're going to do when I pass on? Just sell the fuckin' place and buy a place on the beach?"

  Oh boy, she thought. Here we go. "No, Dad, but I thought these were things you should know. The e. coli lawsuit will only exacerbate the current situation, which is that if Diamondback starts expanding, we're going to have serious issues and pressure."

  "We'll survive."

  "I was thinking, talkin' with the boys, and maybe it's time to start a cooperative or something, with the other area ranchers," she said, easing her way into getting back into his good graces.

  "So you're staying?"

  "What?" He had caught her off guard.

  "I fuckin' hate every other fuckin' rancher around here. I ain't cuttin' deals, opening accounts, or even being friendly with any of those people," he said. "I always help them out, and I usually don't even get a thank you. You wanna do the cooperative, you stay here and you do it."

  She blinked. "What?" It was all she could say. He had never been this adamant about her future. She had clearly hit a nerve.

  "You wanna come in here and talk about selling the place, but you don't wanna talk about owning it? That's very much so like you Lilith…" His voice trailed off.

  "Yeah," she whispered. She got up and headed towards the door. "I was telling you so that you could have a battle plan. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing with my life. But Boston is sounding a lot better than battling with my supposed issues with taking over this place, according to you."

  She slammed the door behind her, not wanting to say or see her father for awhile. She caught herself, her eyes welling with tears. Pretty soon, she thought, awhile could turn into forever. It was so easy to forget the severely limited about of time that any two people share, but he literally had a shorter countdown.

  She went back to her room, propped herself up, taking out Grandmother Aggie's diary again. She had gotten up to the late 1960s, and she wanted to know more about why she kept fighting. At the weirdest times, Aggie's ghost left her and she was just the same girl who didn't understand the fight. She felt that, that had happened in her conversation with her father. And Lilith hated that. She wanted to learn more about Aggie, to see what made her tick.

  But of course, if she wanted to be Aggie, it meant that she had to stay on the ranch. Lilith reached over and grabbed the Boston envelope, reading the acceptance again. She had taken it from the kitchen. It didn't belong there. But she didn't want to throw it away. She didn't want to file it away either. She didn't know where to put it. So just like herself, she decided to keep it close until she made a decision. At least it was a reminder that there was a gloriously large world beyond the ranch.

  And somewhere in that gloriously large world, she thought, was Clark and Zeke and her exes, and the strangers she'd lusted after. She put them all out of her mind, opened Grandmother Aggie's diary and started reading again.

  With any luck, she'd keep learning how to be just as tough as that old woman. Aim high, she thought, aim high. The sad part was that Aggie's skills would be useful in Boston too. It just made the entire thing even more confusing.

  She still had the date with Zeke later. She needed to shower and fancy herself up just enough to catch his attention, and see wherever that would lead. Maybe it would lead nowhere, maybe it would lead into his, probably expensive, bed. But she was tired of being confused, of being alone, and of not knowing where and what the future held for her. It was time to live in the moment.

  But this moment was actually in the past, because Aggie was about to duel it out with a state representative who had said something godawful towards her. What a woman, thought Lilith.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  She had opted not put on a dress or anything supremely fancy, finding herself enjoying putting on denim and boots, with a clean button down shirt. She rolled up her sleeves, put her hair in a pony tail, and applied just a hint of makeup, wanting to hide away some of the garish spots, but not wanting to look like a painted mug.

  She didn't know how fancy he wanted to get, but the way his voice lilted, the way he had laughed, it seemed like it was going to be an easy going date. Perhaps a little professional, but she was doubting it. Not knowing what to expect, she decided to put on a thong. Who knows, maybe she might like him. While it made her feel sexier, and like she could conquer the world, it was also unfortunately just a tad more uncomfortable than she remembered. She hadn't worn one in a long time. She sighed, remembering she had never had the opportunity or need to wear one lately.

  She drove up the long gravel road, absentmindedly counting the cows and calves as she passed them, the late afternoon sunshine streaming over the mountaintops. She waved to Marty up on the top of a hill. He was on horseback, looking out across the vista, as other ranch hands laid out protein cubes. He gestured that he would text her, and she waved back in acknowledgment. Was it something important? She couldn’t tell.

  Her truck ran smoothly, Jim doing a good job as always to fix him up right. She parked outside the main gate, leaning against the hood of her truck and waiting for Zeke.

  She watched the minutes go by on her petite wristwatch. She never understood why women had to wear such small watches. She watched the minute hand turn first five, then ten minutes around the watch face. She looked up when she heard the rip, squeal, and high pitched warble of a Italian sports car ripping through the canyon roads. It was a beautiful, if unusual, sound to hear around these parts. She didn't mind it, but it sounded off, perhaps a little too fancy. Exceptionally fancier than her old Ford, or her dad's diesel.

  Zeke pulled up in a jet black sport’s car, pressing on the gas hard so it revved high and loud, while the brakes squealed. The doors swung up and he put one shiny boot out, gesturing to her. "You look damn fine this evening," he said, smiling.

  She hadn't noticed how his clean cut features were so pronounced and almost beautiful. He had barely a hint of stubble, his green eyes flashed against his white shirt and gray jacket. His left hand gripped the steering wheel. She had remembered it being soft, but it looked tough, angry red, and masculine all at the same time. Had she imagined his ill manners and his city bred attitude?

  "Thank you muchly," she said, smiling back, curtsying a little. "I didn't want to go too fancy, but you seem to wearing a suit jacket and everything."

  "Oh don't worry about that. I got us reservations at a more casual place, I think you're dressed fine. And if they say anything, I know where they can shove their rules and opinions," he said. "Hop in!"

  He stretched over, pulling the other door handle and it swung open. She climbed inside, unused to feeling the soft leather and looking at the fancy interior. "I'm sorry for bringing this car," he mumbled, putting it into gear. "But I just had to try and see if it was any good on these mountain roads."

 
"Verdict?" she asked, as he pressed on the gas peddle and she felt the rush as the car zoomed down the road.

  "Meh," he answered, flashing her a smile and shifting up.

  ~~~

  Sheriff Holt put his hat in his hand, took out the jail keys and walked over to where Clark sat, behind the bars. Clark looked up, not knowing what to expect. Had they found more things to suspect him of the crime? He was confused as to who could want to frame him for the murder. He didn't know anyone that could hate him that much.

  "Clark," said Sheriff Holt, unbolting the jail door. "You're free to go. I have what I consider certifiable witness based evidence to clear you of suspicion, currently at least. Please inform your lawyer that you are released, and most importantly, go home. Take a shower. You stink." Holt smiled, putting his hand out to Clark to help him get up.

  Clark got to his feet and stepped out of the cell, feeling the weight of the past few days lift off his shoulders. He took a few steps past Holt, looking out at the windows and the street outside the station. The late afternoon sun was warm and welcoming.

  A deputy approached with a box. "Your things Clark," said the deputy, smiling. "Kept 'em safe for ya."

  Clark nodded at him and put his wallet and phone in his pocket. He put his belt back on and swung his truck keys around his finger. "You gonna give me a ride to the Holliday Ranch so I can get my truck?" he asked the deputy.

  "No need," said Holt. "I had Lexi tow it to your house. I can drop you off there. I think we've gotten all the clues and evidence we could from the place, so it's yours again."

  "Thanks," mumbled Clark, not knowing what else to say.

  Holt nodded at him and led the way out to his cruiser. "Should have you home in time for dinner," he said, chuckling.

  "Yeah. Dinner alone sounds nice," whispered Clark.

  ~~~

  Zeke pulled the chair out for Lilith, letting her take a seat as the waiter brought over a bottle of wine and the menus. He had made reservations at one of the swankiest restaurants in Helena. As Lilith opened the menu, it didn't list any prices, the wine list was extensive, and she kept getting side eyed glances from the other clientele. She immediately regretted not wearing a dress.

  Zeke looked right at home in the place, his suit perfectly situated on the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up, his expensive watch shining off the candlelight.

  "I feel sorely out of place," she mumbled, adjusting her hair and shirt. Her boots did not match the other ladies who sat with equally manicured men.

  "Don't worry 'bout it. If you get any sour glances from the people who work here, I'll buy the place and turn it into a laundromat," he said, taking a sip of wine. "I've done it before, but the lady I was with was much less beautiful."

  "What?" she asked, surprised at the admission.

  "Just being honest," he said, chuckling. "She was also dumb as a rock."

  The waiter came back over and they placed their order. Lilith had to ask for help several times, not knowing the exact dishes on the menu, but she finally believed she had placed an appropriate order. She drank wine and sat back against her chair, not knowing if she wanted to flee or die.

  "Ya know, I grew up around here," said Zeke.

  "Oh?" she said. The man was full of surprises. Chivalrous and from humble roots.

  "Yeah, my father was a ranch hand. I went to public school around here and won a scholarship to the one of the Ivies. I won't tell you which one because I don't wanna be that guy," he said.

  "Too late. You are already that guy," she said, laughing. She hadn't eaten anything all day and the wine was going to her head faster than she would have liked. But she was liking him, falling for him, quicker than she had anticipated too. She didn't know where the night would lead, but between the thong, the wine, and his Montana born smile, things were looking up.

  "Well, that's the way it goes," he said. "I dunno, my father used to tell me, he used to say: Zeke, don't you dare do what I do. You are better than this. Manual labor may make the man, but the salary don't make a family." He looked away from the table wistfully. "May he rest in peace."

  "When did he die?"

  "A few months ago," he said. "It's the reason I came back here, wanted to check out home again. It's weird, ya know. You can come back home as a different person, realizing that it's a different place than when you left, and yet, feel some kind of connection. Is it a real connection?"

  "Yes, yes it is," she said, sighing. Why did he have to do that? He was touching her soul at the same time as being completely agreeable and approachable.

  "And ya know, I wouldn't mind raising a family here either," he continued. "And my father could never possibly afford the properties he worked on. He hopped back and forth from dozens of ranches, but they were never his." He put his hand out on hers, grabbing her fingers and the stem of her wine glass. "That's why I want talk about the possibilities."

  "What possibilities?" she asked, whispering.

  "I can offer you double what the ranch is worth, but I know you won't take it," he said. "It's your birthright, isn't it?"

  "Yeah, something like that," she said. "And you just want to live on it?"

  "I dunno, I might develop it into something. Maybe keep it a cattle ranch. Maybe just raise my family on it. Possibilities Lilith, so many possibilities." He looked at her and then took a sip of wine. "Ya know what I mean?"

  She looked into his endless green eyes, his short eyelashes matching his short hair, the unshaven chin, and nodded. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

  ~~~

  Clark and Ricky had lived down the street from each other and Sheriff Holt waved at Clark as he pulled out of Clark's driveway. Holt hoped he could get away from the area before Markus Kincaid decided to pop out of his house. Clark thought similarly, waving back and fumbling his keys out of his pocket and opening the front door of his house. Just like Holt had promised, his truck was sitting in his driveway, just the same as he had left it.

  But it was not the same inside. Holt's deputies had taken every opportunity to turn over cushions, root through cabinets, and open closets, boxes, drawers, and figure out if he was hiding anything. They hadn't made a mess, but they had left everything open, perhaps as their own personal system to make sure they had checked everything.

  He went around closing the cabinets and drawers and looking around to see if anything was missing or misplaced. Everything look fine to him. Sighing, he opened the refrigerator and took out a beer, popping the top and drinking deeply. He had missed beer the first time he was in the joint, and this time was no different. It was the little bits of freedom. Not the waking up or going to work, but good food and good beer, domestic lager preferably. He was a simple man.

  He sat down on his couch, sticking his hands between the cushions, hoping he wouldn't personally find more of Ricky's things between there. Thankfully, there was nothing, and he laid back against the couch and closed his eyes, drinking deeply from the bottle again.

  And then he felt it, the unmistakable ache that had been ever present but was finally bubbling to the surface along with his ability to feel freedom. He was lonely. The house was empty, and the girl who he had more than a crush on was somewhere far away and he didn't know if it was appropriate to contact her, call her, or see her. The few minutes of fling they'd shared wasn't enough. He needed more, but he was afraid to ask. He was afraid of saying anything. He was a felon, he had just gotten out of jail for a murder he didn't commit, would she even want him back?

  His stomach grumbled. He hadn't eaten in a while. "Fuck it," he mumbled. He decided he was going to drive to Helena and grab a bite to eat. Something fancy, he thought. Something too fancy, because he fuckin' could. He had just gotten out of jail, what was a hundred dollar meal alone? A celebration, that’s what!

  ~~~

  "So, you left here, and you never came back," said Lilith. She had realized the wine had definitely gotten to her a while ago, and had stopped drinking. The fog was lifting and she was thinking more
clearly. Her phone buzzed and she quickly read the text message, not wanting to divert her attention from Zeke. It was Marty, telling her that he had heard that Clark had been let out of prison. She sighed, not sure how to take that news. She looked back up at Zeke and his clean cut features, his dreams of coming back to Montana almost floating between them. She put her phone down, trying to swallow Clark’s memory.

  The food had been delicious, both their plates now empty, and they had both ordered an after dinner aperitif, choosing to just quietly converse about this and that. She had felt her attraction for him growing, not because of the wine's alcohol content, but because their similarities were more than human, because they came from the same world and because they both fought with the idea that they wanted, no needed, more from their lives. They wanted greater things, and he had achieved that. She was more than a little envious, and more than a little turned on by it all. She didn't care about his money, she cared about his experience, about his want.

  He reached his hand towards hers, laying idly on the table, and grabbed her fingers, clenching them. "I think you understand, that, I'm not a dangerous person, I'm not here to just be a rich guy pouncing at opportunity. I want to be apart of this world again, and I know that I can't just waltz in and be the same kid that I was growing up, but I want to see what I can achieve."

  She stared at him, turning her hand back and letting his fingers rest against her palm. They were soft, sure, but there was something honest about them. Not city bred, not lazy doing “woman's” work, but something truly genuine and sincere. She looked into his eyes, knowing that the sex within wanted to feel him, to see if their similarities reached further, deeper, inside them both.

  ~~~

  Across the restaurant, Clark entered, weaving his way through the line of people and approached the hostess. He noticed her solid black dress, clinging close to her body and his eyes rolled gently up her breasts and towards her face. His thoughts turned to Lilith, and as if dreams came true he spotted her sitting across the restaurant.