by Cora Seton
The knot around Walker’s heart tightened.
“It’s going to take time to get the marriage annulled. Too much time, because Brody won’t cooperate.”
Icy cold fear replaced the heat of his anger in his veins. Avery was married to Brody.
To Brody.
To that wise-ass punk of a fake cowboy. And there wasn’t enough time to annul the wedding?
“So the question is are you going to lose your shit, or are you going to keep it together and marry Elizabeth?”
Every muscle in his body was tight, tensed for action. Walker forced himself to unclench his hands. None of this was Boone’s fault. Not really. He was simply trying to remind him of the greater good.
“How could she not know she was married?” Walker couldn’t even bring himself to think about Elizabeth right now.
“Like she said, she thought it was a joke. Fake, I guess. I don’t know what happened. What I do know is she’s miserable, you’re miserable—everyone’s miserable, and we still have a goddamn ranch to win.” Boone began to pace. “I wish I’d never come up with the stupid idea. It’s been twelve months of hell and for what? What have we even accomplished?”
He didn’t have time for Boone’s angst. That’s what you got when you thought you could change people: disappointment. No one changed. Nothing changed.
You never got what you wanted.
The cancer got you. Or a car crash. Or you put a gun to your head, pulled the trigger and did the job yourself.
“You need to come back to where the rest of us are and see this shitshow through. There’s a crazy man stalking us, remember? No one gets to be alone anymore. We’ve got twenty-five more days of this crap, and we’re going to survive it if it kills us!”
Boone’s raised voice penetrated Walker’s bad memories. His friend was losing his cool, something Walker hadn’t seen too many times before. Twenty-five more days. Boone was right. No matter what came at him next, he’d survive it.
That’s what his time with the SEALs had taught him—humans could survive almost any trauma. It was what came next that really hurt.
With a sigh, he fetched the ax and started for the bunkhouse.
“I’m sorry,” Boone said as they walked. “I never should have asked you to be part of all of this. It wasn’t fair.”
“I could have said no.”
“You joined only because you didn’t want to disappoint us.”
“You’re wrong about that. I joined because I wanted to be with my friends.”
Boone stumbled. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you call us that,” he said a minute later.
Walker turned to him sharply. “Course I have.”
“No you haven’t.” Boone walked on. “You’ve never admitted you’re one of us. Every time Riley called us the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse I always thought, ‘It’s the three horsemen and the guy who’s hanging around waiting to see if what happens next will be worth his while.’ Never thought you were all in on us, you know?”
Walker was stunned. All in on them? Was Boone shitting him? “Never knew if I was really welcome.”
Boone stopped and faced him. “Never knew you were welcome? Hell, Walker, nothing got going until you arrived. You know that.”
Did he? Walker didn’t think so. In fact, he thought Boone had it all wrong.
“You three came as a unit,” he said. “Met you all at once. You were already thick as thieves. Had known each other since birth, practically. I was the latecomer.”
“The latecomer? We met in kindergarten!”
Boone had to know what he meant. “Spent half my time on the reservation.”
“Don’t I know it,” Boone said resentfully. “Drove us crazy wondering what you got up to there. We were positive we were missing out, and you hardly ever invited us over!”
How could he invite his three boisterous friends to Sue’s quiet, orderly house?
“You came to the powwows,” Walker pointed out.
“As guests. We didn’t get to dance or any of it. We had to sit on the sidelines and watch while you had all the fun.”
Walker chuckled suddenly, a vision of his friends in traditional regalia sprouting in his mind.
“What?” Boone demanded.
“Never knew you felt left out.”
“Never knew you did, either.”
They contemplated each other.
“Hell, what the fuck, Walker?” Boone laughed. “We’re really sorting this out nearly thirty years into being friends?”
“Guess so.”
They thought about that.
“Really didn’t think you’d agree to join us here, you know. You surprised the hell out of me.”
“I’m here.” Walker turned serious. “Mean to stay, too.”
Boone shook his head. Turned to look at the mountains far in the distance. “I depend on you,” he said roughly. “The others are my friends. You’re my rock. I’ll never forget that you trusted me enough to join me in this thing. And I’ll never forgive myself for causing you so much pain.”
Walker cocked his head. Shrugged. “You meant well.”
Boone stiffened, then laughed again. “Damning words, my friend.”
Walker chuckled along with him, glad his joke had landed right. “You did your best.” He patted Boone’s shoulder.
“Jesus, Walker, give a guy a break!”
“At least you tried.”
They were both laughing when they made it to the bunkhouse, and if their laughter had a tinge of something darker underlying it, who could blame them?
“There he is,” Leslie exclaimed when they arrived. “It’s funny how men always take off when there’s a problem to sort out and then they try to make you think they’re the problem-solvers. Since when does chopping wood solve any problems, except for heating a house in the winter, which is a good thing, but it’s nowhere near winter, and even though I believe in thinking ahead, I don’t really think you were thinking at all, or if you were, you weren’t thinking very effectively because an effective bout of thinking would have led to a plan, and I haven’t heard you mention a plan at all, Walker.”
“How could he mention a plan when he just got here and you’ve been talking the whole time?” Boone pointed out. “Where did Brody and Avery get to?”
Byron scowled and stepped between him and Leslie. “You don’t need to speak like that to my—”
“They’re in the kitchen with Kai and Addison. Kai’s making Brody chop vegetables,” Savannah said. “He put Avery to work on dessert.”
“Good plan,” Boone said.
“I’ve been thinking of a whole bunch of plans,” Leslie went on, undeterred. “We could kidnap Brody and dump him in the wilderness somewhere with a bunch of supplies so he’s safe until the show is over, or we could take him to the nearest port and pay a captain to take him out to sea, or we could lock him in the root cellar, or we could just send him outside on his own a lot and see if that intruder comes back—”
“Oh, my God.” Savannah covered her ears with her hands. “I didn’t even hear that last one.”
But the camera crew was making sure to get all of it.
“It’ll work out somehow.” Byron spoke right over Leslie. “Just when you think it can’t, love finds a way. Don’t give up, Walker.”
“Don’t give up on Base Camp,” Clay said. “Just do what you have to do for now. We’ll sort out this mess when the show is over and we’ve won the ranch for good.”
“Avery isn’t going to stay with that guy,” Byron argued. “Brody is an opportunist. Anyone can see that. Where the hell has he been for the last decade if they’re really married?”
“They’re married,” Boone told him.
“Still, funny that he shows up now, right? When Avery is on a television show.”
“Maybe he didn’t want her to commit a crime by marrying Walker when she’s already hitched,” Riley said.
“Or maybe he wants something else,” Byron said.
&nbs
p; For the first time, hope edged into Walker’s heart. Byron was right—maybe Brody wanted something else.
And maybe he’d be willing to give up Avery to get it.
“They’re going after a bunch of us today,” Addison said when Avery met up with several of the women during a morning break five days later. She was avoiding Brody—and Walker and Boone and just about every other man on the place out of her irritation with all of them. “Star News is really having a field day with Base Camp, aren’t they?”
“I wish they’d just shut up,” Savannah said with uncharacteristic savagery. “I have a baby, and I would like to enjoy one week of his little life without some disaster happening, especially fake disasters. Could those people lie any more than they do about us?”
Avery understood her frustration. They had twenty days to go until Base Camp was over, and the film crews were falling over themselves trying to document every last minute of their time here. Brody was following her everywhere. Elizabeth had attached herself like a limpet to Walker, and Gabe, cast off from his role as backup husband, had attached himself to Elizabeth. Walker was as growly as a bear, and Avery had had no chance to explain to him any of the circumstances of her stupid marriage to Brody. His expression was so stony every time he was near her, she wasn’t sure she’d dare to.
She had gotten on the phone to Fulsom herself and explained as best she could that she couldn’t even remember if she’d slept with Brody, and if she hadn’t, surely the marriage couldn’t be real. She’d tried to keep the conversation under wraps, but the camera crew following her around had crept in closer and closer until it was like being in a scrum.
Addison turned up the sound on her phone, despite the others’ groans.
“We need to know what they’re saying about us so we can counter it.”
“Angus and Win,” the female announcer was saying. “I mean, come on—Win’s family could buy a ranch like Base Camp five times over. So who cares if they win it or not? They can reproduce their community somewhere else if they lose.”
“Her family is pretty shady, though, Marla. I hear Win hasn’t talked to her parents in months, and can you blame her? What kind of sick parents arrange for their own daughter’s kidnapping, not once but twice? Angus ought to be on his guard. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, you know. When they have children of their own, I’d sleep with one eye open if I was him.” The male announcer chuckled. “Who knows what she’ll get up to with them.”
“Is he implying I’ll keep up the family tradition and start kidnapping my own kids?” Win cried.
“For a bunch of do-gooders, they sure are a barrel of rotten apples, Paul,” Marla agreed. “Take Leslie and Byron. They’re not even supposed to be on the show! Byron’s a cameraman. Leslie’s one of the ‘backup brides’ we keep hearing about who never actually marry anyone.”
“She’s going to marry Byron,” Paul pointed out.
“Maybe. They’re sure taking their time about it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s just a hoax the directors cooked up to keep the rest of those backup brides from continuing to picket the show. Bet you the minute the show is over, Byron kicks her to the curb and finds someone more suitable.”
“More suitable?” Leslie echoed. “There’s no one more suitable for Byron than me, and I’d like to see that Marla woman try to find someone better. She could search everywhere, in all fifty states and the territories—even Puerto Rico! Did you know that people in Puerto Rico are US citizens, but they can’t vote for president because Puerto Rico is a territory, but if they move to any of the fifty states, which they can at any time, of course, because they’re US citizens, they can vote for president because they are in a state, which doesn’t make any sense to me. Either you’re a citizen or you’re not, and citizens should be able to vote no matter where they are, and what about those people in Washington, DC? It’s a district, not a state. Does anyone actually live in Washington, DC, or do they all have homes somewhere else like representatives and senators and just go to Washington when the government is in session? But what about all the houses and stores and restaurants there. Someone has to keep them all running, and they can’t just stop and empty out anytime Congress isn’t in session, and anyway the president lives there, and he or she has to be able to vote, right? So—”
Savannah grabbed the phone from Addison’s hands and tapped at it until the broadcast stopped.
“I am so done with Star News!” she proclaimed. “And you’re perfect for Byron, Leslie,” she added.
“And people in Washington, DC, do get to vote for president,” Nora said. “The district gets as many electoral votes as the least populous state does. They don’t have any representatives or senators, though, so they’re not represented in Congress.”
“And it’s not just Puerto Ricans who don’t get to vote when they live in Puerto Rico,” Win piped up. “No US citizen living in Puerto Rico gets to vote in a federal election, even if they were born in Texas or Montana or anywhere else.”
“Which is really strange because when a US citizen lives in a foreign country, they absolutely get to vote in US federal elections,” Addison said. “Unless the last place they lived before moving abroad was Puerto Rico, I guess.”
“I’ve got to go see what Brody’s up to.” The political discussion was making Avery’s head spin, and she was desperate to escape it, even if she had no real intent to actually track down the man. No sooner had she said the words than she spotted him heading her way, breaking off from another work group making for the bunkhouse.
“Damn that Boone,” he called out before he even reached her. “He keeps giving me the worst chores on the place, and what does he mean by assigning me to a different work group than the one you’re in?”
“I don’t know,” she said innocently. Bless Boone, he was doing his best to make this easier for her.
“If you think you’re going to scare me off with a little hard work, you’re wrong.”
“We all work hard around here, but this kind of place isn’t for everyone. You could admit our marriage is fake and help get it annulled. Then you could be on your way.”
Leslie’s recommendation to wave him like a red flag in front of their intruder came to mind, and she had to admit she was tempted. There’d been another sighting a couple of nights ago. Nearly all the men patrolled through the dark hours, which meant everyone was losing sleep. Avery wondered if Montague was behind it, trying to slowly drive them mad playing whackamole with a man who refused to be caught.
“I don’t want to be on my way. I came here to be with you. Looks like you ladies are having a much better time than I’ve been having. What’s going on here? Why all the cameras?” He raised a hand to settle his hat on his head at a different angle.
“Just talking about Star News. They keep trying to make us look bad,” Riley said.
“Well, you know what I always say—all publicity is good publicity!”
Savannah let out an exasperated sigh. “What is it you do again? Because you’re not very good at ranch chores, obviously.”
Brody puffed out his chest. “I’m a country singer. I’ll play you a tune tonight. See if you like what I’ve got. You won’t be disappointed.”
“I wouldn’t be disappointed if you fell off a cliff,” Savannah muttered.
Avery bit back a laugh, but the ache in her heart didn’t dissipate. If she couldn’t convince Brody to agree to an annulment, all hope of happiness was lost.
“I’m looking forward to hearing you play,” a woman’s voice said. Avery looked around for its source with everyone else and found Jess red-faced under the sudden scrutiny of so many people. One of the other crew members trained his camera on her.
“Thanks, Jess. Glad to have a fan,” Brody said happily and settled his hat on his head again.
“How the hell does he know her name already?” Riley asked.
“I know all the crew members’ names,” Brody said proudly. “I’ve personally introduced myself to
each and every one of them. It pays to be polite, my mama always said.”
“Hmm,” Riley said.
Hmm, indeed, Avery thought. Brody was a country singer. She’d met him in the parking lot of a club on the Vegas Strip a decade ago. He’d gotten her in with the band, she’d danced for hours while they played and he’d come to see her after the show. They’d found a bar that stayed open even later. She’d been so drunk.
Which of them had come up with the idea to tie the knot?
Why on earth had Brody gone through with it?
The details of that night were fuzzy, but she’d never forget waking up the next morning—
And realizing she’d been dumped again.
Chapter Six
‡
Walker wasn’t sure how he made it through these days. It was like his body was on autopilot, his hands and feet doing his chores and moving him around the ranch even though his mind was thoroughly frozen. He couldn’t wrap his thoughts around the fact that Elizabeth was still here, and Avery was married, and her husband—her husband—was walking around Base Camp happy as a clam despite being universally hated. Boone assigned him chore after chore, and Brody did them badly, whistling tunes all the while. He loved the presence of the camera crews, talked and joked with them constantly despite all their pleas for him to act like they weren’t there.
Whenever he approached Avery, her withering looks and snippy answers rolled right off his back. “Just making sure you know I love you,” he’d say and get back to work again, careful to arrange himself in the best angle as far as the cameras were concerned.
He liked to roll up his sleeves and show his muscles—what he had of them. He made a big deal out of every job and talked endlessly of gigs he’d played and musicians he’d accompanied. At the moment he was perched on a log near the fire pit strumming his guitar, talking a mile a minute to a small group of crew members who had gathered around him, including Jess, who’d become his number-one fan.
“How the hell did Avery fall for him?” Clay asked from where he was seated at another log near Walker. Dinner was delayed tonight, and they were all waiting around, stomachs growling, for Kai to ring the bell and feed them. “God, he’s annoying!”
