by Jess Bentley
The call wakes us after midnight. I fumble around for my cell phone on the nightstand as my familiar ringer cuts through the quiet.
“This is Trey,” I say, groggy since I’ve only been asleep for about an hour.
“Trey—it’s Caleb. Someone is skulking around the calving barn.” Caleb’s voice is hushed, but he sounds panicked. “I smell gasoline, Trey.”
Also in the giant bed, my brothers rouse. Someone asks what’s going on, but I ignore them for the moment.
“You stay out of their sight, Caleb,” I order. “We’re on our way.”
Someone switches on the light, and I blink in momentary blindness. Tyler. He’s already half dressed, and a quick glance over my shoulder shows that my other brothers are nearly dressed as well. I grab Joshua’s cell phone off the nightstand and toss it to Joshua. “Call the Sheriff’s Department. Tell them somebody’s about ready to burn down our calving barn.”
“Motherfucker,” Tyler mutters under his breath. I agree, but there’s no time to get into it now.
“Be careful!” Jessa shouts at us as we head out of the bedroom. But I stop Joshua when he emerges into the hall, still on his phone to dispatch.
“Stay here with her,” I tell him. “Take care of Jessa.”
Joshua looks like he’s about to argue, but then he nods, his expression grave. “I’ll keep her safe.”
Secure in the knowledge that Jessa will be under Joshua’s care, I rush outside, barely catching Tyler and Clay by the time we reach the barn.
While somebody has knocked out the main floodlight in front of the calving barn, the bright, full moon and the remaining small lights in the area clearly illuminate a large man standing on the side of the barn. He has a gas can in hand, and a pissed off expression on his very familiar face.
Griz.
“Fuck you, assholes!” Griz shouts. “Think you can fire me? I’ll show you!”
“No—” I yell, but Griz has already thrown a match. And as we watch, the whole side of the building goes up in brilliant flames.
Shit. He must’ve had more than just the one gas can—God knows how long he was out here soaking the building before Caleb noticed him.
The doors to the barn fly open, and several ranch hands pour out, with what looks to be the entire barn of cows between them. Caleb is at the lead, a look of grim determination on the kid’s face.
“Get Griz,” I yell at Tyler and Joshua.
They take off to catch Griz. Seeing them, Griz drops the gas can and tries to run. I know he won’t get far.
“Just a few calves left!” Caleb gestures toward the barn. “Weren’t enough of us to carry them all. But we got the farthest ones from the door.”
Running into a burning barn isn’t something I’d normally do—cattle or no. But this one was just rebuilt a couple years before, and I know that Joshua had spared no expense when it came to the fire suppression system inside. The side of the barn was burning, no doubt. But it hadn’t made its way inside yet. If we hurry, we can get them out.
“Keep the doors open,” I yell at two of the hands. Caleb follows me and, and sure enough, no smoke yet. Nothing except for what’s coming in from behind us.
Caleb points to the four pens closest stalls closest to the door. I nod at him, and then we get to work. Less than five minutes later, between Caleb, myself, and a few other hands who rushed in, we’ve retrieved the rest of the animals from the barn.
By the time I’m carrying out the last calf, acrid smoke is rolling from the barn, making my eyes water and filling my lungs. A coughing fit hits Caleb once we’re outside and I hand off my calf off and help him to get farther away from the burning building.
Lights flash in the distant darkness, blue and red and white—emergency vehicles on their way. I hope that they brought a fire truck with them.
Tyler and Joshua hold Griz down in the dirt, face down with his hands behind his back and Tyler’s knee between the shoulder blades. My eyes are drawn back to the barn. Despite a couple hands’ attempt at putting some water to douse the flames from the well, it’s an inferno now. Joshua’s fire suppression system might have slowed it down—and the fire department will likely put a stop to it. But there is no saving the barn.
We’d saved the livestock, and no one is hurt. That is all that matters. Property damage can be fixed, lost lives can’t.
“You son of a bitch,” I say to Griz, my throat aching from the smoke.
The man sneers at me from the ground, but he doesn’t say anything.
Two Sheriff’s Department cars pull into the drive, halting a little ways out from the fire. The sheriff himself trots up to us, while still talking to radio attached to his shirt.
“Yes, I said more than one fire truck,” the sheriff says into his radio. “Hurry up before the rest of the damn ranch is on fire.”
“Sheriff,” I say with a nod. “Thank you for coming.”
He shakes his head at me. “The hell is going on, Trey? Dispatch said something about arson?” His gaze shifts to Griz. “I take it you got the guy?”
Quickly, I tell the sheriff what’s been going on. I wave Caleb over so that he can tell his part. He’s no longer coughing since one of the hands brought him something to drink, and he gives the sheriff a full rundown. The sheriff grows more tense with every word, but when we’re done talking, he clasps me on the shoulder.
“Why don’t you and your kin get back to your house. The fire department’s only two minutes out. I’ll let you know when we get the fire under control.” The sheriff waves at the deputy that came in the other own car and they speak for a few short moments. Then the deputy takes Griz and shoves him into the back of his squad car.
“I don’t see him confessing,” the sheriff says. “Hell, they never do. But that man stinks of gasoline.”
“He has good-sized burn marks on his finger, Sheriff,” the deputy adds. “I’m guessing from trying to start the fire.”
“Yep, he can’t argue much since the three of you saw him start the fire, and young Caleb witnessed him spreading around the gasoline,” the sheriff says. “But we’ll sort all that out tomorrow, anyhow.” He nods toward the house. “Go on now, get out of the firefighters’ way.”
Sure enough, the firetrucks are pulling in as he speaks. I motion to Joshua and Tyler, as well as to all of the ranch hands, and they follow me back to the house. With the fire trucks there I don’t expect the fire to jump, but the bunkhouse is closer to the barn than the main house. And I’m certain that we could all use a drink.
But mostly—I want to check on Jessa.
We all pile into the house, stinking of smoke and cows. Clay, Tyler and I rush upstairs to check on Jessa and Joshua. But when we open the door, Joshua waves at us frantically from a chair next to the bed.
With the face of an angel, Jessa is snoozing softly, even with the overhead lights still on. She’s exhausted, and it’s no wonder. She’s expending energy for two.
Clay motions again for us to be quiet, and we back out of the room slowly so as not to wake her.
“What the hell happened?” Clay asked asks. “Was it Griz?”
“Let’s go get a beer,” I say, pitching my voice low so I don’t bother Jessa—even in the hallway, she might hear us and wake up. “I’ll tell you all about it.”
Chapter 24
Jessa
Two weeks after the big fire and I’m in the obstetrician’s office with all four of my boys. The doctor has been in once—booting the guys out to the hallway for a few minutes for the private part of the exam. The room smells antiseptic and is cold. I cross my arms over my chest and wait impatiently.
None of them seemed ready to volunteer to sit in the waiting room now, so, despite a dubious glance from the nurse, we’ve all filled the small exam room. Watching the four of them try to take as little space as possible in the room would normally make me laugh, especially with how hard they’re all not looking at the countless models and framed pictures showing diagrams of women’s anatomy.
But today, I’m too nervous.
The obstetrician comes back into the room and gives me an encouraging smile. She shoots a quizzical look at the men, just as she had done when she came in earlier for the exam. But she doesn’t ask any questions about them specifically, or our relationship. And I’m not really in the mood to volunteer anything. I just want to know about my baby.
“I’ve got all your test results back, and I’m so happy to tell you that everything is looking great. The tear has healed, and the baby seems to be developing right on schedule,” she says.
Relief hits me in a wave, and I almost choke from the relief of it. “You’re sure?” I ask, voice small.
“Absolutely sure,” she reassures me. “But it can’t hurt to let these guys keep pampering you,” the doctor says with a wink.
I laugh—half a sob of relief half a sound of real amusement at the doctor's wink. We hadn’t specified our exact relationship when we came in, but apparently, the four testosterone-filled overprotective men had made our relationship obvious.
Trey asks the doctor a couple of follow-up questions, but I’m not paying much attention. I think he just needs reassurance, and I can’t blame him after what happened with his wife. Patiently, the doctor answers his questions.
I lean back in the hospital bed and close my eyes, letting the murmur of their talk wash over me. My future is still up in the air. I love these men—and I know they care for me, too. But my baby’s future isn’t in doubt. I will love him or her with all my heart. And, I know, so will his or her father and uncles.
Touching my stomach, I take a deep breath, wishing I were breathing the fresh Wyoming country air, not the slightly odd-smelling hospital air. I can’t stand the thought of losing these men, of losing what we have. But I also take comfort in the fact that no matter what happens, my baby will be loved.
A few minutes later, we’re all loading into one of the bigger diesel trucks. I ride in the front seat, between Trey and Joshua. Only because I rode in the back on the way to the hospital and it only seems fair.
But now that the worry about the baby is behind me, my mind is finally free to worry about other things. “So, what’s going on now with Griz?”
When the men don’t immediately answer, I add, “I’ve got a clean bill of health now, guys. Lay it on me.”
Tyler is the one to finally answer me. “He’s been arraigned, and he didn’t have the money for bail, so he’s not going anywhere.” Satisfaction practically drips from his tone.
“What did they end up charging them with?” I ask.
“Arson and vandalism,” Joshua says. “I don’t think he’s going to get charged with the brake lines though. We might know he did it, but there’s no proof of it, and the DA is reluctant to muddy the waters of the charges they can prove with ones they can’t.”
Clay lets out an angry grunt. “Bullshit, if you ask me. But he’ll probably get three to five years in prison for what they can prove. I guess that’ll have to be good enough.”
Another flood of relief—not as big as the one that hit me when I learned my baby was going to be okay, but it’s a powerful feeling, nonetheless. “Have you guys spoken with Jed?”
Trey shoots me a shocked look and Joshua acts like I’ve grown another head.
“Why the hell would we do that?” Tyler grouses from the backseat.
I glance at my watch—almost lunchtime. Our timing might just be perfect. “Let’s stop at Amber’s Café for lunch. See if we can catch him.”
“Again, why?” Clay says this time.
I can’t see Clay’s expression, nor Tyler’s without turning around, but Trey doesn’t look happy. And the other two don’t sound happy. Only Joshua seems to have any sort of understanding on his face.
“There’s no reason we can’t try to end this feud between you guys and Jed. Plus, I kind of think you guys owe him an apology after accusing him of cutting down that fence.” At least they’d never gotten a chance to accuse him of cutting that brake line. If they had, I’m not sure they’d ever have a chance of healing the rift with their neighbor.
Trey glances away from the road for half a second to shoot me a look. Just long enough that I can see the consternation in his brow lines. “I don’t usually eat at Amber’s anymore. We dated for a short time—let’s just say she doesn’t like me much, now.”
“I’d kind of figured that,” I say, dryly. Amber had made her opinion of Trey and his overprotective nature clear the last time I was in her restaurant. What felt to me like safety seemed to have made her feel smothered. To each their own. “Don’t worry, I kind of like your protective nature. As long as you keep your orders to the bedroom and don’t try to boss me around in real life.”
Next to me, Joshua laughs. “Good luck with that. He likes to order everyone around.”
Clay laugh, too. “Not likely.”
Trey’s hands tighten on the steering wheel, but he keeps his eyes firmly on the road. “As if you guys are any better.”
I snicker a bit more at that. Trey isn’t the only one with an overprotective nature, that’s for sure. But he’s definitely the one who takes it as far. But I don’t mind it, not really—especially since I know about what happened with Claire, which is the root of his overprotective nature. And I have no doubt that if it becomes a problem in the future—if we have a future, that is—that I’ll be able to put him in this place, if necessary, and remind he can’t actually order me around, whether it’s for my own good or not.
Despite their arguing, all of the guys seem to be in a good mood when we unload in front of Amber’s Café. But when we all enter the small establishment, Amber shoots us a look of annoyance. The men ignore the “wait to be seated” sign and head for a large booth in the back of the restaurant. Behind the bar, Amber continues to shoot the occasional glare in Trey’s direction, but it’s another waitress who comes to take our order. The smell of French fries and burgers makes my mouth water.
Only a couple minutes after we finish telling the waitress what we want, the door above the bell above the door rings, and Jed comes into the restaurant.
I wave to get his attention, but he’s already seen us. He frowns when I wave again in an effort to get him to come over, but after a long moment, he walks to our table, grabbing a chair from a neighboring table on his way. He sets it down in front of our booth and sits.
“What you want?” he asks, bluntly.
And I realize then why I really didn’t ever really think it was Jed causing all the problems the men credited him with. He’s blunt—direct probably to a fault. He’s not the type of man to skulk around in the dark and commit crimes in the shadows. He’s the kind of man to punch you in the jaw when he is pissed at you. I need to be equally blunt.
But first... I give Clay and Trey a meaningful look.
“We owe you an apology, Jed,” Trey says. “We jumped to a conclusion that we shouldn’t have.”
“We should have known better than to think you’d do something so underhanded,” Clay adds.
Jed narrows his eyes, but not at the Hollisters, at me. “You managed to get these boys to apologize?” Then he shakes his head, a rueful grin on his face. “I guess that I understand. Hell, I’d be looking for someone to blame if someone was cutting my fences and trying to kill me in my truck.”
I start, then grin. “No keeping anything a secret in a small town, is there?”
“No, ma’am.” Jed laughs.
I clear my throat. Now for the blunt part. “There’s something else. We need to settle this situation, between you and the Hollisters. You’re all neighbors, and you have to live by each other for the foreseeable future.”
Jed crosses his arms and leans back in the chair. “Go on.”
At least he is listening. But the next part is going to be tougher for him—and the Hollisters, I think—to swallow. “Be straight with me, Jed. Why do you object to the Hollister’s going green? Really?”
Beside me, the men remain blessedly silent. I’m thankful
because if they started interjecting right now, Jed might just get pissed and leave. So, I try to keep his focus on me.
Around us, the restaurant is filled with the normal sounds of a café. Conversation, plates being stacked, and the sound of silverware being sorted somewhere in the back. I’m almost painfully aware of all of the sounds, as Jed watches us all silently, thinking.
After a long moment, he says, “Because I can’t afford it. I couldn’t afford my share of the project before they cut off my water access. And with them shifting the market to these more environmentally friendly fucking cows, I definitely can’t afford it now.”
And I don’t have to say anything else. The Hollister brothers jump in, they and start telling him about a loan program they can offer, and grant program they’ve found. Joshua offers to help navigate it all since, as he says, not even his brothers can figure out all the stupid forms for the grants. The waitress brings our orders somewhere in the middle of it all, as well as Jed’s regular lunch dish.
Listening to them, I marvel at the generosity of the men I’ve been so fortunate to find. The Hollister’s are willing to help Jed every step of the way, so long as he’s willing to work toward sustainability.
We eat. They talk. And at the end, they all agree.
And then they shake on it.
Back to the ranch and I have to admit that I’m pretty proud of myself. The conversation with Jed went well. Of course, I didn’t do most of the talking—or even, really any of the talking. But I did get them all to sit down with each other, and that feels pretty awesome.
The men are all in a good mood, too. They chat about future plans for the ranch and how working with Jed will benefit everyone during the rest of the drive home. But when we unload from the truck, my phone rings. I answer as we walk onto the deck. “Hey boss,” I say, having seen Argus’s name on the caller ID.
“I love the story. You managed to capture the heart of what’s really going on out there. And somehow you made it sound like some kind of dream—but with some real hard numbers to back up what they’re doing. Good job, Jessa,” Argus says.
