EMMETT (The Corbin Brothers Book 3) (14 page)

“Don’t talk like that.”

“It’s my life, Emmett. I know what it is.”

“No, you don’t.” I couldn’t just lie here and take this self-abuse anymore. “You don’t have a clue just how talented you are.”

“I’m good at fucking. That’s why people pay me to do it.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. I’m talking about the horses.”

“There aren’t going to be horses anymore. Can’t you get that through your head?”

“There are going to be horses,” I argued. “It’s the right thing to do. We work well together.”

“We worked together undercutting my father’s business, using his resources and contacts, behind his back,” she said. “Maybe, if we hadn’t done that, that land would’ve been mine someday. But there’s no chance of that anymore. He’ll probably try to father some other bastard to leave his operation to — or let the bank take it.”

“Just forget about your father. Let the court take care of him.”

“I can’t forget my father. He said … horrible things.”

And that was the root of all of this, I suddenly realized. All of the bullshit he’d spouted while he was beating the crap out of her was what made Peyton feel like this. It wasn’t fair. He was such a motherfucker. Peyton didn’t deserve any of this. She only tried to survive. That was her one crime in all of this. She never gave up, never rolled over and stopped living.

“It’s time my brothers understood that this is what’s going to happen for us,” I vowed, standing.

“They’re not going to listen to you,” Peyton said. “You’re not even listening to yourself. This isn’t realistic. Maybe it never was. Maybe we’re both idiots who don’t know better than to dream.”

“This dream is going to be a reality,” I said. “I promise you. Get your clothes on. You have to help me convince them.”

“I’ve tried before,” she said, pulling her shirt on anyway. “You know I have. I really tried to be persuasive, but none of them took us seriously.”

“Tonight is going to be different,” I said, strangely determined. I didn’t understand what had gotten into me, why I was so steady in my conviction that something about tonight was different, but there it was. This might turn out to be my last stand about the horsing operation, but I was going to make a hell of a good argument. Peyton and I had enjoyed success at her father’s ranch, even if it had been underhanded, and I knew that if we were given the space to expand at the Corbin-Summers Ranch, we could draw in even more business with the contacts we’d already made.

“Emmett, you’re going too fast. Wait!”

But something propelled me forward, out of the trailer and toward the house, the windows alight, where I knew my brothers would be. They were going to listen to us. They were going to hear what we were telling them. They were going to see the wisdom in the future we believed in.

Peyton trotted next to me, barefoot in our haste, her long hair streaming, looking excited at the prospect of a confrontation. If I were being honest, I was looking forward to it, too. At least it would get both of our minds off of the problems we were facing personally.

But just as we approached the house, the door burst open and Tucker and Chance sprinted out at full speed.

“What the hell?” I exclaimed, startled.

“Get in the truck or on a horse,” Tucker threw over his shoulder as our oldest brother continued his dead run. It dumbfounded me, and I realized that the last time I’d seen Chance run like that, he was wearing a football jersey for the high school team, the talk of the town and the surrounding colleges as scouts drove in to watch the games. Life could’ve been so different if our parents had never died — for all of us, and for many different reasons.

“Move your ass, Emmett!” Tucker shouted. “We just got the call! A bunch of motherfuckers are trying to stampede the herds through the fences and off the ranch! Get a horse!”

“Stay in the house, Toby,” Zoe yelled, busting out the door and nearly mowing us down in our numb, silent shock. She was hefting a shotgun as big as she was, running nearly fast enough to catch up to Tucker and Chance, who were spinning the tires of the truck. There was the briefest of shouted arguments before Chance begrudgingly pulled her into the bed of the truck with him. Tucker gunned the engine and they were off, rocketing across the bumps and divots of the ranch.

Peyton whooped beside me and took off running. I glanced back at the house to see Toby rubbing his eyes sleepily, and rushed over to him.

“Listen to your mama, you hear me?” I asked him. “There’s a problem we need to take care of, but we’ll be back soon. Stay in the house. You can turn on the TV, if you like.”

Tired as he was at the late-night surprise wakeup call, the boy brightened at the prospect of watching television when he was normally asleep, and stepped back inside the house, contented for the moment. By the time I caught up with Peyton, running full sprint, she’d already pulled Sugar from the barn and was slipping the saddle on.

“Do you think you can handle the horse at a gallop with that wrist?” I asked her, moving to the other side to finish securing the fastenings.

“You’re going to do the handling,” she said, breathless, and it was then I noticed the gun in her hands. “I’m riding shotgun.”

There were a million things to address, a million things to argue about, but now just wasn’t the time or the place. We were in a terrible hurry, so I simply hopped astride Sugar and pulled Peyton up before urging the horse into a gallop, into the darkness.

Even at this distance, all the way up by the barn, I could just make out the tumult surrounding the herd. We’d combined the cattle for security purposes earlier, doubling the size and the number of eyes on our livelihood. I could hear the beasts calling out even above Sugar’s hooves pounding the earth, Peyton’s intermittent whoops, the pounding of my heart.

It felt like it took us forever to get down to the river, the night wind on my face, whipping Peyton’s hair into my eyes, but I was sure the majority of that perception was adrenaline. I could just make out the chaos in the moonlight and the truck headlights, ranch hands darting around the seething mass of cattle, trying to keep them calm and away from the portion of fence that had been trampled. Beyond that, fording the pathetic trickle of a river, was a significant number of cattle, along with …

“There,” Peyton said, pointing.

“I see them.”

Another gentle prodding from my heels and Sugar took off, not shying or skittering from the bellowing cattle, but plunging right past them and across the downed fence. She was a damn good horse.

“Not your herd, motherfuckers,” Peyton screamed, her only warning before firing a shot in the air. The shotgun was loud, and the cattle moving across the river beside us turned away from it. The men on the horses ahead of us cowered. I guessed that none of the other ranch hands had used guns on the situation, yet, more intent on trying to keep the herd from panicking more than what it already was.

“I see you,” Peyton announced. “If you don’t cease and desist this instant, I’ll put a bullet in you. I’m a hell of a shot, but I’ll let the gun decide tonight. It is awfully dark.”

I didn’t personally know whether she was or not, but the woman in front of me was a lot of things — fearsome, beautiful, loyal, loving, conflicted, and so much more. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she could handle herself around a shotgun, as well.

One of the men half turned on his horse in the darkness. “Is that Peyton Crow? The town whore? I’d recognize that shouting from anywhere. Shit, I made her shout like that just a couple of —”

Peyton fired and the man yelped and fell off the horse.

“Did you kill him?” I asked, aghast.

“Only the gun knows,” she said cagily, and loud enough for the rest to hear. “Anyone else have anything to say for themselves? I still have so much ammunition … and a twitchy finger. And some scores to settle.”

We both ducked as a bullet winged just over our heads, and I prompted Sugar to at least make moving targets of us. Peyton fired at will, sending the other riders scattering, and I slowly realized that we had support from behind us, other guns firing, perhaps Tucker and Chance and maybe even Zoe, a quiet, foul-mouthed housekeeper lit afire at the prospect of people messing with her new home. We were all coming together to protect the ranch because it had brought us this far. We couldn’t give up on it. Not after how hard we’d worked to even get this far.

Peyton was screaming in what sounded suspiciously like glee as we rounded the group of riders, horses screaming their displeasure at the panic we were causing. Sugar was a champ throughout — until she stumbled and fell, sending Peyton and me flying.

I cursed as I hit the ground hard, both of my arms used to try and cushion Peyton’s head from the ground, and then climbed to my feet, yanking her up in the process.

“Are you all right?” I demanded, frightened as the riders galloped away, leaving the part of the herd they’d been trying to drive off, apparently deciding that whatever they were trying to do wasn’t worth the risk. Part of me was proud of that — the entire Corbin-Summers Ranch had been able to unite to beat back this worrisome attack. But the rest of me was really shaken. What was happening to this place, and to us? Ranching was already so difficult. Why did we have to face down this additional threat?

There were a few whoops of weary victory, Peyton’s among them.

“I’m just fine, thank you,” she said. “Some fine riding.”

“Some fine shooting,” I said, glancing around uneasily. “Do you see that guy anywhere — the one you shot?”

“I didn’t gun him down, if that’s what you’re asking,” she laughed. “All that talk was just for show. I just clipped him. Shoulder shot. I’d bet money on it.”

Tucker and Chance had approached, both of them shining with sweat. I didn’t notice until then just how humid the night was. We simply couldn’t catch a break from summer, even long after dark.

“That might give us a good lead, come morning,” Tucker said. “I’ll ask around the hospital, talk to my buddies at the police station, see if anyone came in with a bullet wound — or two. Hospital staff would have to report something like that to the authorities.”

“And then we’d at least try to pinpoint where these things are coming from,” I said, realization dawning on me. “Peyton, thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” she said, ducking her head in an oddly humble manner. “What if he doesn’t show up at the hospital? Plenty of people out here know how to dig out a bullet without involving the authorities. I know a couple myself.”

“That’s just a risk we’re going to have to take,” Tucker rumbled.

“Where’s everyone else?” I asked, looking around, trying to take stock of the mess.

“Hunter and Avery and Paisley are with the rest of the guys driving the cattle back across the river,” Chance said, squinting at the darkness, probably wishing the night would lift so he could better manage the situation. “Hadley’s taking a look at a couple of ranch hands who suffered some minor injuries — grazes and falls, things like that. Zoe apparently knows how to mend a fence — go figure — so she’s helping put that back together before the rest of the herd decides it would like a taste of freedom, too.”

“Damn,” Tucker said. “Whole family’s out here.”

“Kind of nice,” Chance agreed. “Nice to have this many people that have our backs, for once.”

I looked at Peyton, but she was staring at the ground.

“You’ve got a bloody nose,” Tucker pointed out helpfully, and I suddenly noticed the wetness on my lips.

“Dammit,” I said, though it was mild. It didn’t even hurt. “We took a tumble from — oh shit.”

I’d forgotten about Sugar. How had that happened? I loved that horse, and I cared about her so much that sometimes, if I couldn’t sleep, I’d simply go down to the barn to brush her while she kept me company. How could I forget her stumbling like that? Where was she?

“Sugar, hey, girl!” I called into the night. A silvery shape nickered at me, and I knew something wasn’t right. “Fuck me, she’s hurt.”

We gathered around her, me petting her face, afraid to look where my brothers shined their flashlights.

“She’s favoring her leg,” Chance said, sounding like the words pained him.

“It was dark, and we were at a gallop,” I said, keeping my voice light for the mare’s benefit. It would do her no good if she picked up on my fear. I had to keep it calm for her. “She stumbled — must have hit a rock or a hole or something.”

“We have to do the right thing,” Tucker said softly. “Look at her. She’s in pain.”
“No, this might be nothing at all,” I began, but Chance cut me off.

“I know she’s your horse, Emmett. But you know what Mom and Dad told us. As hard as it is for us to do the right thing, think of how much the poor thing will suffer if we’re not brave enough.”

“This is fixable.”

We all turned to look at Peyton, who was kneeling on the ground by the leg Sugar was holding up.

“I don’t know what kind of fantasy you two are living in,” Chance said, “but I know a broken leg when I see one.”

“I don’t think it’s a break,” she argued. “At worst, it’s a fracture. It’s in the lower leg, so that’s a lot more accessible.”

“Accessible to what?” Chance asked. “Everyone knows a horse with a broken leg needs to be put down. I know this one’s special to you, Emmett, but it would be cruel to keep her living in pain.”

“What would be cruel would be to end her life when we have the ability to heal her,” Peyton fired back before I could answer. “Emmett, tell him.”

“I guess now’s as good a time as any,” I said. “Peyton and I know we can fix Sugar because we’ve been doing it already, for other horses.”

“What?”

“You’ve been after me about doing my work on the ranch, and you’ve been right to be,” I admitted. “We set up shop on a back piece of Dax Malone’s land and, well …”

“Robbed him of his clients,” Peyton said with a sharp grin.

Tucker looked at the cast on her wrist. “That makes a few more puzzle pieces fall into place, actually.”

“Don’t be mad,” I practically begged Chance. “This is my dream, and I know you don’t think it’s feasible, but we could actually have a horse rehabilitation center on this ranch. It doesn’t take up much room, and Peyton and I are already making money. It’s a fifty-fifty split. Hers goes wherever she wants it to go, but mine can go right back into the ranch — minus what we need to get started again.”

“My father saw fit to destroy all our equipment,” Peyton added helpfully.

“Do you really think you can save your horse?” Chance asked. “Realistically?”

“Definitely,” I said, with conviction.

“We’ve done it before, and were paid handsomely,” Peyton confirmed.

“Then do it.”

“Horse rehab sounds mighty interesting,” Tucker put in. “We already have a rehab facility for ranchers. Think of it as the whole healing package, especially around these parts.”

“One thing at a time,” Chance said, but absently, as if his mind were far away. My heart leapt in my chest. God bless Sugar, but maybe this was just the thing we needed to finally convince my brothers that it was time for my dreams to come to fruition.

“We’ll need some things,” Peyton said. “Anesthetic. Screws. Bandages. A splint, at least, to start.”

“I can call the vet, wake him up,” I said. “He wouldn’t ever do anything like this, so I bet he’d let me buy the supplies off him.”

“Perfect.”

“Emmett!” I looked up as Hadley jogged over to us, her eyes wide and panicked.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Hunter,” she said. “He’s having an episode.”

“Shit,” Tucker cursed as Chance grabbed two fistfuls of his hair.

“We do not need this right now,” he said quietly.

“Do you think I need this? Do you think Hunter wants to be doing this?” Hadley glared at him. “Help him. Do something. I can’t talk him down.”

“Go,” Peyton said. “Give me your phone, and I’ll take care of the horse end of things.”