Authors: Carter Ashby
Dallas found him in the horse stalls the morning after they’d all promised their father that they hadn’t been screwing Ivy Turner. Dallas had taken extra care to study Jake’s features during that moment because, if the rumor had been true, he was pretty sure Jake was the one she’d pick. And Jake not being one for lying, he surely would have shown a twitch or a bead of sweat or something. Nope. Cool as a cucumber, that Jake. So for the most part, Dallas believed him. For the most part, Dallas didn’t really care. He was there this morning seeking out his older brother for the purpose of betraying him.
Which would have been so much easier if Jake weren’t such a stand-up guy.
The temperature was down from the day before. They were in for a cool spell, oddly low temperatures for August. Dallas always felt the weather changes in a way that the other men in his family didn’t seem to. Maybe he was more sensitive. Maybe he wasn’t cut out for the outdoors. He had a bit of a fever-chill when he approached his brother.
“You couldn’t get Boone to do that?” Dallas asked.
Jake turned, startled. “Couldn’t find the little shit. It’s his turn.”
“So leave it until he shows up.”
Jake snorted and went back to work. The idea of putting off a chore was anathema to Jake. Dallas couldn’t understand it. Horse shit was a never-ending encumbrance…why hurry to clean it up? “Wanted to talk about you and Ivy.”
Jake turned a little faster this time, his brow furrowed. “Huh?”
Still not a total guilt-reaction. If Jake had lied about fucking Ivy, he’d definitely be showing more reaction. “The meeting from last week?”
“Yeah? What about it?” Jake replied, still cool and calm.
“What did she say?”
Jake shrugged. “She made an offer. Tried to convince me to convince Pop that they’d maintain the integrity of our ranch and—”
“Yeah, but how much are they offering?”
Jake sighed and shoveled some soiled straw into a wheelbarrow. “Half a million for the land. Another quarter for the business.”
Dallas had to fight to keep from reaching for his chest. His heart thundered. Split five ways, that gave him a hundred fifty grand. Of course, it wouldn’t be five ways. The land belonged to Gideon and after him, to Jake. So Dallas wouldn’t see any of that. But still, the quarter million would be split five ways, which meant fifty thousand. More than enough to get him the hell out of Oklahoma and started somewhere bigger. Better. He could get a college degree. A job in a suit in a high rise building. A girlfriend who sipped champagne instead of beer, wore heels instead of boots, smelled like expensive perfume rather than ordinary, everyday shampoo.
“I don’t guess the old man would hear the offer?” Dallas asked.
This time when Jake turned, there was anger in his eyes. “Would you? It’s bullshit. You can’t put a price on family, Dallas. Old Man Turner ought to know that by now.”
Dallas shrugged. “I guess when it comes down to it, it’s not a lot of money considering we’d all have to find new jobs.”
“That was part of the offer. We’d stay on as hired hands. On our own fucking land, can you believe the nerve?”
“You’re telling me they’re offering all that money and jobs? Would we get to keep living in the house?”
“Yeah. They said they’d deed off the land with the houses on it. Mighty generous of them.” Jake spat and shoveled. “You might grab a shovel if you’re just gonna stand around gabbing, man.”
Dallas was not grabbing a shovel. He took a step back. “I don’t understand why the old man wouldn’t at least listen to an offer like that. Doesn’t sound like it would change our lives that much.”
Jake stopped, again, and gawped at Dallas.
“What?” Dallas asked, hoping to sound and look innocent.
“You don’t seriously think we should consider it, do you? This is our livelihood. Granddad built this with his own two hands. He sweated and bled for this land. You think you can put a price on that?”
Dallas knew for damn sure he could put a price on it. But he wasn’t about to say so to Jake who looked just about to deck him. “Of course not,” Dallas said, backing away a little more. “It’s just they ain’t gonna give up. Old Man Turner is stubborn as a mule. And that little bitch of his is a real bulldog.”
Before he could even register what was happening, Jake dropped his shovel, lunged at Dallas, and swung his fist. Dallas’ head whipped to the side and he stumbled backward, nearly falling. His ears rang and his jaw ached, but once he recovered his balance, he was grinning ear-to-ear. Jake stood there, shoulders squared off, chest heaving with deep, fast breaths. “Wow,” Dallas said. “Kinda sensitive about little Ivy, ain’t ya?”
“I’m just trying to knock some sense into you. This ranch is our life. You’d best remember that.”
“Oh, I’ll remember that. And I’ll remember not to call Ivy a bitch anymore.”
“Call her whatever you want.” He turned to retrieve his shovel. “Just don’t do it around me. She might be trying to destroy everything we love in this world, but she’s still a lady.”
“Yes, sir, gentleman Jake, sir,” Dallas said with a mock salute. As he walked away, his laughter faded in the wake of the conundrum before him. How to get Gideon to sell the property. And how to keep his hands clean doing it.
“Turner Cattle Company,” Ivy said into the office phone. She shifted in her seat, stretching her black pencil skirt a little further down her thighs. The morning was a little cooler than expected, and she wished she’d worn slacks.
“Ivy, dear.”
Ivy no longer needed the slacks as the sound of Myra’s voice made her blood boil. “Yes, Ms. Tidwell, what can I do for you?” she said through her tightly clenched teeth.
“I just wanted to inform you that I’ll be publishing the latest reports of your exploits. I don’t suppose you care to tell me which of the brothers you spent last night with?”
“None of them, Myra.”
Myra laughed, a throaty, sophisticated, utterly arrogant sound. “Oh, dearest. If you want to keep your affairs secret, you really ought not to conduct them in the only motel in town.”
Damn Molly!
Damn Boone!
“It’s nobody’s business.”
“Of course it is. We’re a community, aren’t we? We concern ourselves with each other’s lives. It’s called love.”
Such bullshit! Ivy felt her nostrils flaring like a bull about to charge. “I disagree. I wish you would just leave me alone.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way. I’ll give you one more chance to weigh-in, and then I’m publishing.”
Ivy didn’t even consider spilling Molly’s secrets. Molly was married. There was a huge difference between a single girl fornicating and the preacher’s wife having an affair. So she said, “I’ve got nothing to say.”
Almost as soon as she hung up the phone, the office door opened. Ivy lifted her head in hopes of seeing Edna returning with coffee and pastries. It was hard not to stress-eat when your reputation was being dragged through the mud all because of your misplaced loyalty to an increasingly selfish friend.
But it wasn’t Edna. Waltzing in the door like he owned the place, with absolutely no concern as to what people might say, was Dallas Deathridge. He flashed a charming smile and turned his ball cap backwards before reaching out for a handshake.
Ivy composed herself, stood, and took his hand. She leaned to the side to see out the window. “I see you rode Storm Shadow.” Storm Shadow was a buttermilk buckskin whose coloring was uniquely stark. The white of his body was pure against the ebony black of his mane and tail. He’d won some trophies in horse shows in his time. As a result, most folks around town knew him by name. More importantly, they knew he belonged to Dallas.
“Aw, don’t worry, Ivy. I’m sure no one will see him here.”
There wasn’t typically a whole lot of traffic down the highway outside her office, but at that moment a car passed by. Followed by two trucks. She arched a brow at Dallas. He shrugged as if it were of no concern to him. “What do you want?” Ivy asked.
Dallas’s cocky half-grin would have made a weaker woman’s knees buckle. But Ivy’s knees had done enough buckling lately.
Dallas said, “I want to know whose bright idea it was to seduce Jake. Yours? Or your old man’s?”
Her knees buckled. She covered it by taking a step back, folding her arms over her chest, and arching both brows. “I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up with Myra the Mouth’s blog…but I’ve taken quite a lot of unjustified shit because of you boys. Why do you feel the need to add on to it?”
Dallas ducked his head, his grin vanishing. He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and shuffled his feet. “Yeah, you’re right, Ivy. I’m sorry.”
“Good. Now, is that why you came in?”
“No, ma’am.”
The ‘ma’am’ relaxed her. She dropped her arms to her sides and dried her palms against her skirt.
“I came in because…because…” he took a deep breath, met her eyes, and said, “I wanna sell.”
A laugh escaped her lips. “Sell what? You don’t have anything I want, Dallas.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I know that, Ivy. But…Jake told me about your offer. The money. The jobs. It just seems more than fair, that’s all.”
“More than fair.” She tasted the words. Frowned. Nodded. “Yes. I agree. Unfortunately, you’re the wrong brother. And the right one is as stubborn as his father. So, what is it you think you can do for me?”
“I think I can find a weakness. I mean, the ranch is doing fine…it’s definitely worth what you’re offering, so, don’t get me wrong…”
Ivy smiled. She could feel the smile on her lips. The predatory rictus of it. The primal satisfaction of the smell of blood. The whetting of the appetite. It was all she could do not to lick her lips.
“…But,” Dallas continued, “there’s not a lot of room for error. I mean, one bad year and we’d be in pretty deep shit. What I mean is, with the six of us, we don’t have any extra. Money’s tight. So…”
Ivy cocked her head and waited. Dallas wasn’t the sharpest Deathridge by a mile. But he might be useful.
“The thing is, I think I can convince him.”
“Do you, now?” Ivy sank back into her chair and crossed her legs, not bothering to tug her skirt down when it rode up her thighs. Dallas’ gaze dropped for a moment before bouncing back up to her eyes.
“Yeah. And, if I do, then I want more money.”
“Oh, really?” She didn’t bother masking her amusement. “Exactly how much do you think your assistance is worth?”
“An additional fifty grand.”
“No kidding? You think you’ve got something worth that?”
“The fact is, Ivy, I want the fuck out of this town. And I’m about to take a risk for you that might just get me cut off from the family funds. So…I’m going to need money. Just something to get me started.”
Ivy bit her bottom lip in thought. Dallas wanted out? Where exactly did he think he was going to go? The man had “farm boy” written all over him. He was over thirty. It had probably never occurred to anyone in his family that he wasn’t content working the ranch. “How long have you been wanting to leave the ranch?”
Dallas sighed and dropped his head back. “For as long as I can remember.”
Another car drove by outside, the hum of its tires barely penetrating the noise of the window air-conditioning unit. Ivy tapped her fingernails on the arms of her chair. “I’d be willing to shake on fifty-grand. But only if you can prove you’re actually helping me. I don’t want lightning to strike all your cattle dead and you come to me taking credit for it. Understand?”
Dallas nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And just to be clear, you’re talking about convincing your old man to sell, right? You’re not planning sabotage or anything? Because we want the ranch in tact.”
“Of course. I mean, yeah. No sabotage. I’m just going to talk to him.”
Ivy studied him for a moment longer before standing and extending her hand. “Deal.”
Dallas hesitated. “Are…are you authorized to make this deal? I mean, how do I know you’re not just blowing smoke?”
“You’re insulting my integrity now?”
“No. Of course not, Ivy, it’s just…”
She dropped her hand. “You came to me. I can take or leave this deal without much care or concern. You want to get paid for helping us get what we want, then I’m in. Otherwise, get the hell off our property before someone sees your horse outside and jumps to the wrong conclusion.”
Dallas gulped and extended his hand. Ivy shook it. “Deal,” he said.
She smiled, thanked him, and watched as he left the building, mounted his horse, and rode away. She wouldn’t get her hopes up too high. But if Dallas could end this cold war between her father and his, it would be worth a finder’s fee of fifty thousand.
It occurred to her that she’d become the unofficial guardian of the Deathridge brothers’ secrets. Well, all except for Cody, who probably didn’t have any.
Cody
Cody had a secret.
He walked, cutting through the fields to the fence that separated his family’s property from the Turner’s. He always took walks in the evenings after dinner. But recently, his destination had changed. Instead of aimlessly wandering, enjoying the crickets and the cool evening breezes, he was headed to an old barn the Turners hadn’t bothered to tear down. His heart raced, his blood buzzing so loudly he couldn’t hear those night sounds he usually enjoyed so much.
The sun still hovered over the horizon as Cody approached the barn. No sign of anyone there, but then, there wouldn’t be. The person he was going to meet would be discreet.
Cody walked inside and stopped in the light of the doorway. Streaks of dust-filled sunshine criss-crossed through open slats in the roof and broken boards in the wall. Light and shadows painted the room and the young man standing in the middle of it.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” said the man, his voice barely a whisper.
“Said I would, didn’t I?” Cody replied.
The man wiped his palms along the thighs of his worn jeans. Jordan Shaw was the newest ranch-hand for Jared Turner. The kid was only nineteen, but hard work had shaped his body into that of a full-grown man. He was lean and almost as tall as Cody, with fair hair and hazel eyes. Cody’s mouth watered at the sight of him.