Page 2 of Ink & Dust


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“Dad’s not well, so he’s handed over control of the ranch to me. His only son. Everything on this property is mine to do with as I choose.”

I clenched my fists, tempted to throw a punch at the bastard but knowing it wouldn’t do me a lick of good. Nor would it help John if he was truly sick.

Nearly vibrating with my rage, I stormed past him, shoving his arm away when he tried to grab me. A knee to his gut took him out of my path. Winded, he dropped to the ground.

“I’m going up to see your folks. If they’re really sick, they’re going to need care.”

By the time I was out of the barn and walking up the path to the house, he stumbled out behind me.

“One more step and I’ll call the sheriff and have you charged with trespassing and assault. You’re not welcome on the property anymore, Gabriela. You need to leave.”

Panic shook me to my core, making me spin on him.

“I’ve lived in my trailer for years, Royce. I have a legal lease signed by your father and me. You can’t just kick me out of my own damn home.”

He struggled to stand straight, one arm wrapped around his middle. “Fine. You’re allowed on the land around your trailer, but not anywhere else on the property. And you’re not allowed near the fucking horses.”

Tears pricked my eyes, but I held them in. I would not let Royce see me cry. And I didn’t want to risk him lashing out further and forcing me out of my home.

With my head held high, I changed direction, back toward my trailer. I climbed over the fence to walk across the pasture back to my home. The one I hoped I wouldn’t have to leave soon.

Gabs

Even after a hot shower I was still on edge, angry and upset over what had happened with Royce. Looking around my small trailer, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was going to have to move soon. This place wasn’t much, but it was mine. And it had allowed me the chance to work with horses even though I couldn’t afford one of my own yet.

When tears stung the backs of my eyes again, I cursed under my breath before I headed back to my bedroom to shower and get changed. No way could I stay in tonight. I would only get myself worked up and end up an emotional mess.

As I dressed to head out, I contemplated where to go. If I went to the bar, Styx, in town, I would be surrounded by members of the local motorcycle club, the Charon MC. Normally, that wouldn’t bother me, but tonight I was too on edge, and they’d notice. Then one of them would call Silk and she’d be there in my face, demanding to know what was going on. Or not. And that would truly crush me.

Silk had been my best friend since we were twelve years old. We’d gone through so many of life’s ups and downs together, including planning out our entire futures. Standing beside her as we opened Silky Ink four years ago had been a dream come true for us both. It was officially her shop and her name on the window, but that was because she’d had the capital to set it up and I hadn’t, nor had I wanted to go into debt just so my name would be in the mix. I was happy for Silk, proud to be working there, living our teenage dream together.

But over the last year or so, things had changed. She’d met her man, Eagle, and he’d taken all her attention. Silky Ink wasn’t her top priority anymore, nor did she have time for her bestie. It wasn’t just Eagle who took up her time, she now had a beautiful baby boy to occupy her. Some days, I wondered if she even remembered I was alive.

Shaking my head, I tried to shrug off the self-pity party. That thinking wasn’t fair to my lifelong friend. I was honestly happy for her. She owned a successful business, had a loving husband, and an adorable son. Her life was complete, and the problem was I wished mine was too. The fact I didn’t have a massive circle of friends hadn’t really mattered when I’d lived with Silk, and we were both single. Not having a significant other hadn’t bothered me when I’d been able to talk to her twenty-four/seven about anything, been able to get a hug when I needed one. When we’d both been doing the single lady thing together.

With a growl, I dashed away the tears that had slipped free. Returning to the bathroom, I splashed water on my face and put on a little makeup. With the way my emotions were spiraling, tonight was not the time to touch that whole mess with Silk. Nor did I want to pull her away from her new family this late in the day. No doubt she was feeding her son or getting him to bed. She didn’t need to add dealing with my shit on top of that, which meant heading into Bridgewater was out.

I just wanted to go somewhere for a few drinks, to relax and forget my troubles with no pressure to explain a damn thing.

As I pulled a brush through my long, straight, silver hair, I remembered seeing fliers for a live band that was playing tonight at The Barn, a small honky tonk about a half an hour’s drive north. Right now, that sounded perfect. I’d be able to have a few drinks, get some food and listen to the band for a while, then I’d drive myself home and climb into bed. I’d worry about Royce and his bullshit tomorrow.

Happy with my new plan, I finished getting ready all the while hoping like hell nothing else would crop up and ruin my night further.

Gabs

It didn’t take long for my simple plan to turn to shit. Less than a minute after I sat down at a tall table with my first shot of whiskey and a glass of soda, two wannabe cowboys came my way. As they approached, I downed my shot and tried to focus on the burn rather than their leering stares.

One of them leaned onto the table with a grin so creepy it had a shiver running down my spine. Royce had nothing on this guy. “Hey, there, pretty lady, tell me whatchya drinkin’ and I’ll get you another one.”

Like I would ever touch a damn thing this man gave me. I flipped my tongue ring over the roof of my mouth for a moment before I responded.

“Sorry, fellas, but I’m not looking for drinking buddies tonight.”

The other man moved in closer, like he was going to have better luck. He’d obviously tried a little harder than his buddy to look the part. He wore a crinkled-up, straw imitation cowboy hat on his head and a big ‘ol belt buckle he’d no doubt picked up at a tourist shop. Because I highly doubted this guy had ever even ridden a horse, let alone competed in a rodeo.

“You like my buckle, bunny? More than happy to show you how well I rode to win it.”

The way he thrust his hips like he thought he was Elvis or some shit had me rolling my eyes. Could these men be any more cliché? I had to wonder if these bullshit lines of theirs ever worked. A girl would have to be hella desperate.

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