Page 38 of Iron and Ivory

He saw what I had. These entitlements about me that he could now possess.

I'm his ranch.

I'm his stabled horse.

I'm his water rights.

I'm his snow plow.

The difference between Marcus and me is that I know what I am.

And he has never once stopped to consider himself.

I'm sittin' at the breakfast table having all these thoughts when Cash comes in, huffin' and mumblin' as he takes his seat and picks up the cup of black coffee that was poured for him the moment he entered the room.

Entitlement is a stunning thing all in itself, once you notice it.

"What's wrong with you?" I ask.

He shoots me a look that could kill a coyote from two hundred yards. "What's wrong with me? Your psychotic ex-boyfriend, that's what's wrong with me."

"Ah. I see he's livin' rent free in your head too."

He's taking a sip of coffee when I say this, almost chokes on it. "That's not funny," he manages around a cough.

But we both think it kinda is.

That's entitlement too.

We are so convinced of our insulation, our collective annoyance at Marcus White Jr.'s commitment to ruining our lives isn't even enough to make an aspen leaf quake, let alone realign the ground beneath our feet.

"We have to do something about him, Savannah."

I raise one eyebrow. "Do something such as…"

He lets out a long breath. "You know. We need to… take care of him."

"Take care of him how, Cash?"

He leans back in his chair, eyes going distant. "Never mind. I'll handle it. Anyway, my day is fuckin' booked. Got a dispersal over in Glendive I want to sit in on, the Hendle outfit finally came apart, so there's about two hundred head of their momma cows going through the ring this afternoon. Then I gotta meet with Landry about that section north of the creek before some developer gets cute with it. And if I'm back by four, Cal's bringing over a bull prospect he won't shut up about."

"So you're shopping today?" I ask, casually taking a sip of my own coffee.

"I'm not shopping, I'm—" He just stops. Because when you boil it all down, that's all Cash does. He buys things. Things we need, absolutely. But it's shoppin' nonetheless.

His chair scrapes back on the hardwoods and he stands up, reaching for his hat that spent breakfast time on the chair next to him. He puts it on his head and says, "Have a nice day, Savannah."

Then he walks out, huffin' and grumblin' the same way he walked in.

Marcus. He's gettin' to all of us.

Well, two of us.

Because God knows where Wyatt is. He's wearing his entitlement on his sleeve these days. Sleepin' in the cabin on the far side of the east pasture, never shows up for meals anymore, and I can't even remember the last time he actually did work around here.

And Colt is just… gone.

I miss him terribly.