Page 60 of Indigo Ridge (The Edens 1)

He’d talk about us all behind our back—to me and Dad, our faces. At least he’d stopped trying to fake it when we bumped into each other around town. I’d made it clear the last time he’d tried to shake my hand that I had no use for the son of a bitch.

Frank’s friendship with Covie was the one black mark against our long-time mayor. I never did understand how they’d become such good friends. Neighbors bonded, I guessed. Hopefully Winn didn’t listen to Frank’s poison.

Mateo and I reached the edge of the ditch along the road. A loose wire dangled at the corner post. I parked the truck, grabbed a pair of leather gloves from the bench seat and pulled on my ball cap, letting it shield my face. Then my brother and I got to work repairing the strings of barbed wire.

Two hours later and we’d made it halfway down the line.

“More junk.” Mateo picked up a hubcap lying on the tall grass.

“Just toss it in the back of the truck. I swear the previous owners of this place took apart an entire car dealership and left the pieces scattered around here just to irritate me.”

I’d been picking up rusted scraps and old parts since I’d bought this property. It had taken us a month of regular trips to Missoula to haul away all of the old cars they’d left scattered around the barn.

“I hate fencing,” Mateo muttered as he picked up his fencing pliers.

I chuckled. “It’s part of ranching.”

“It’s part of you.”

This ranch was all I’d ever wanted. From the time I was a kid, I’d known that I’d live and die on this place. My heart belonged to the land. My soul was tethered to the earth. A day of honest work gave me peace.

I considered myself a lucky man that happiness came easiest when my boots were in the dirt. This wasn’t a job. This was a passion. This was my freedom.

My siblings loved the ranch but ranching hadn’t been their dream.

“Any thoughts on what you want to do?” I asked Mateo. Being nine years older, I often felt more like an uncle than a sibling. He came to me for advice, much like I’d done with Briggs.

“No.” He groaned, crimping a clip to hold a fresh wire to a steel fence post. “I don’t know. Not this.”

“There are other things to do on the ranch besides fencing.”

“This has always been yours.”

“It doesn’t have to be just mine.”

“I know. If I wanted to be part of it, you’d make it happen. But I just . . . don’t. And I don’t know what I want yet. So I’ll just work here and at the inn until I figure it out.”

“The offer always stands.”

“Thanks.” He nodded and stepped back from the section we’d just fixed. He looked past my shoulder as the sound of tires crunching gravel filled the air.

I turned as Briggs’s truck rolled our way. My uncle was behind the wheel and behind him, against the glass window, his gun racks were loaded with two rifles.

“Why’s he decked out in orange?” Mateo asked.

“Hell.” I shoved the top wire down to swing my leg over the fence, then walked to the road, Mateo right beside me, as Briggs pulled over.

“Hey, boys.”

“Hey, Briggs.” I leaned against his door. “What are you up to today?”

He jerked a thumb at his rifles. “Thought I’d hunt the base of Indigo Ridge. I saw a herd of mule deer yesterday. Would be good to get more jerky made before the snow flies in the next couple of weeks.”

“What the fuck?” Mateo mumbled.

I sighed, wishing like hell my father would stop ignoring this. The incidents were getting more frequent. “Briggs, it’s not quite hunting season yet.”

“It’s October.”