Page 94 of Branded

“That’s the deal. You want my blessing, however late, you earn it. At 6 a.m., we start morning chores. You keep up, you prove you’re not useless, you get to take Lennox back to Texas. You don’t, and we have a different conversation.”

It is a test. An old-fashioned way of measuring a man’s character.

“I’ll be ready at six,” I say.

“Good.” Warren starts back toward the house. “And Sebastian? I meant what I said. The Briggs family understands that doing what needs to be done is what matters. We’ve made our own difficult choices over the years. So I’m not judging you for the situation. I’m judging you for how you handle it now. How you treat my daughter. Whether you choose to be the man who owns her or the man who loves her.”

“Understood, sir.”

“I hope so. Because if you choose wrong, if I find out you’re hurting her, it won’t be lawyers or courts you deal with. It’ll be me. And I might move slower than I used to, but I’m still more than capable of protecting my own, and I’ve got nothing left to lose.” The threat is real. And somehow more intimidating coming from a man who has to use a cane.

“I believe you, sir.”

“Good. Now let’s get back before dinner gets cold.”

Dinner is easier than I expected.

Grace has made a stew that would rival anything my California chefs produce. The family gathers around a table that has clearly hosted meals for decades, and the conversation flows more naturally than before.

“So, Sebastian,” Emma says, passing the rolls, “what do you think of Montana?”

“It’s beautiful. Different from Texas. I can see why Lennox loves it here.”

“Different how?” Cole asks, genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Terrain, mostly. Texas is flatter, hotter. Montana’s got the mountains, the harder winters. Changes how you run operations.” I take a bite of the stew. “But the fundamentals are the same. Land, cattle, family legacy.”

“Dad says you’re working the ranch tomorrow,” Cage says.

“That’s the plan.”

“Most city folks don’t make it past lunch.” But he’s smiling slightly. “You think you can keep up?”

“I grew up working on my family’s ranch and have been there more lately since my brother’s wife died. I’ve been running the place. I can keep up.”

“We’ll see.” Warren’s tone is challenging but not hostile. “Six a.m. comes early.”

“I’ll be ready.”

Under the table, Lennox’s hand finds mine. She squeezes once, relief maybe, that her father isn’t actively trying to kill me.

After dinner, I help clear plates despite protests. Lennox and I end up alone in the kitchen while her family cleans up the dining room.

“What did my father say to you?” she asks quietly, washing a dish.

“He figured some things out. About why you married me.”

Her hands still in the soapy water. “How much does he know?”

“I told him everything. Well, I omitted the word auction, but everything else.” I move beside her, drying the dish she hands me. “He also told me the Briggs family isn’t exactly squeaky clean. That they’ve done what needed to be done to protect their operation over the years.”

“He told you that?”

“Yeah. I think he’s trying to say he understands operating in moral gray areas. That he’s not judging the situation itself, just how I’m handling it.”

Lennox is quiet for a moment. “My family, we’ve always taken care of our own. Sometimes that means bending rules. Sometimes it means dealing with problems in ways that wouldn’t look good in the light of day. Dad’s just being honest about that.”

“Does it help? Knowing your father understands?”