He looks serious, and I’m at a loss for words again. This man has a habit of doing that to me.
The sound of gravel crunching under boots pulls both our heads up. I turn, squinting into the fading light. It’s one of the younger ranch hands, Crease. He’s maybe sixteen, all legs and looks like he needs a few extra meals on him.
Dad hired him last summer. Crease had been giving his mom grief and getting into trouble at school. She lost her husband and he lost his father, so I don’t really blame the kid. Everyonehandles grief differently, and for him, it was acting out. But his mother was now raising four boys alone on one income. She didn’t know what to do with Crease. So, when she called up dad and asked if he could come work at the ranch, he of course said yes. One summer and a hard winter were enough to straighten him out, though. He chose to keep living here, but Sutton says he gives most of his wages to his mom. Ranch life has a way of shaping young men and building character. He’s proof of that.
Crease jogs toward us, hat in hand and breathing shallow from running.
“Uh, Miss Sorrel?” he calls.
I straighten. “What’s wrong?”
He skids to a stop just past the barn, darting an uneasy glance at Denton before focusing on me.
“It’s Sutton, says she needs you to come to the main house now.”
12
SORREL
Denton and I walk into everyone gathered around the table. They all have grim expressions on their faces, and my heart immediately starts racing.
“What’s going on?” I ask nervously.
“Sit down, Sorrel,” Dad says. “Denton, this is family matters. You can go ahead back to the guesthouse with the rest of your crew.”
“Just tell me what’s going on.”
Denton starts to turn around and our eyes meet. Something inside me wants him to stay. Whatever is going on is freaking me out. He must sense it because he stops and takes the seat next to mine.
Dad eyes Denton wearily. “Sutton, tell her.”
“We got another court order from the Kenzingtons. They’re coming after us, Sorrel.”
I slam my fist onto the table. “Fuckers.”
Denton already knows their son is a real piece of work. He’s about to learn the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
“When’s the court date?” Ryder asks next.
“Two weeks from today,” Sutton says, sliding the paperwork to me.
The Kenzingtons are wolves in sheep's clothing. They have more money than they know what to do with, and word around town has been that they’re trying to buy up as much land as they can throughout Montana. They know we would never sell. I guess that means they’ll try to steal it from us instead.
The court order states something about a boundary dispute.
“Fucking bullshit,” I say under my breath, tossing the paperwork back onto the table. It scatters in every direction. I can’t stomach looking at it anymore. “They’re trying to claim our ranch.”
Denton puts a reassuring hand on my knee under the table, then realizing he’s touching me, quickly pulls away. My head is spinning. I don’t even have time to register how his touch makes me feel.
“That would mean at some point they had someone out here to survey our land,” Dad says, scratching the back of his neck.
He’s just as confused as the rest of us. It makes no sense. How in the world could they claim our ranch? Huck must have put them up to this. That’s the only reason they would come after my family.
“We’re gonna fight this. There’s no way in hell it will stand,” Sutton says to the group.
Everyone agrees, and I know I have some work cut out for me.
Ryder stands up from the table. “Anyone want to let off some steam after today? Lucy is watching Trotter for us, and Sutton and I are gonna head to the Wagon Wheel for happy hour.”
