“That frustrating,” I admit as he takes his Stetson from me and places it on my head, winking, then he takes his bag and throws it over his shoulder.
“How about you tell me what needs doing around here besides watching over you. Might as well make myself useful. Besides, I like to earn my keep, and I’ve never been one to sit by idly and do nothing.”
“You might regret saying that.”
He chuckles as I lead him through the house and out the back, down to the newer of the two converted barns.
“You have your pick of rooms. Honestly, I’m probably going to have these both torn down at some point, so we might have to get you an RV or something temporary until I can get something else sorted.”
“I don’t need you to go to any trouble for me.”
“It’s no trouble. I’m just not sure what I want to do with it all yet. What I do know is that I have no desire to be a cattle rancher. As I’m in a fortunate position not to need the money the cattle generate to keep this place, I’m likely going to convert the land into something else. I’m not bothered that the people around here will think I am stupid.”
“Why would they think you’re stupid?”
“They don’t really need a reason. But in this case, Corvis Wing is the most successful ranch in this county, probably in the neighboring five counties. It’s what my father always wanted, and he built it up brick by brick.”
He looks over at me with a knowing gaze. “And you can’t wait to tear it all down.”
“Heck, if you knew the size of the wrecking ball I wanted to take to this place, you’d start calling me Miley Cyrus. In fairness, all I really care about is the house itself and some of the immediate land around it, along with the meadows and orchards. I like to grow things. And that’s where I’m going to start.”
“Sounds like a plan. So your first step then is to sell off the cattle, I assume?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do all morning. But news got around about Dale’s death, and somehow it’s my fault. So even those who would have jumped at the chance normally are backing off.”
“People are fucking idiots. You have a backup plan?”
“I do. I just might need some help implementing it.”
“Whatever you need. We’ll figure it out.”
I blow out a relieved sigh. “Thanks. It doesn’t seem quite so daunting knowing I’ve got company.”
Ileave Riggs to get settled and head back to the main house to shower and start dinner. I’m not the world’s best cook. Anything I can cook, I figured out for myself when I was a kid, so most of it is basic. But I don’t think Riggs will complain. Prison food is nothing to write home about, and from what I’ve heard, soldiers’ MREs aren’t anything to get excited about either. I decide to go with a simple beef stew with dumplings. Once I have everything diced, I brown the meat with the seasoning before adding the veg and stock. I add a little more seasoning and turn it on low before I make the dumplings, so they’re ready to add later. I wash the excess dough from my hands and turn around to find Riggs watching me. I don’t jump. The house already let me know I wasn’t alone.
“Smells good.”
“Thanks. It’s nothing fancy but…” My words trail off as he stalks toward me. I have to fight the urge to step back.
“I don’t need fancy, Calliope. This is perfect,” he tells me as he squeezes past me so he can lean over the pot and take a deep breath. He groans, making my stomach clench at the sound. “Fuck. I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal.”
“No pressure then.” I chuckle, taking a seat at the table where I have all my shit spread out.
He turns and leans back against the counter to watch me. “Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.”
I pick up my discarded pencil and tap it on the paperwork I’ve partially filled out.
“What happened that night? And how did you end up serving time for killing a man who isn’t dead?”
I sigh, tossing the pencil down. “It’s a long and brutal story, and right now, I don’t have it in me to go over it. I promise I will one day, but?—”
“No, I get it, that’s fair. It’s not really any of my business. It’s just…You couldn’t have been much older than eighteen. You were just a fucking baby.”
I swallow and let him read the sorrow on my face. “I was sixteen. They tried me as an adult, given the nature of the crime. The only thing that spared me from getting murder one was the state they found me in. I was incoherent. What words I could get out were slurred and made little sense, and I was hurt. It would have been a nightmare for the prosecution to try to convince a jury it was premeditated, not without paying them all off. Not even my father is that much of an idiot.”
He grits his teeth. “You were hurt?”
I nod once, but I don’t elaborate. Instead, I focus back on my paperwork even as the words blur together.
