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There it is—the catch-22. Not that I ever expected this to be easy. On one hand turmoil, murder, intrigue. On the other, developers who are making this personal, fighting over adjacent land.
The breeding business versus the land it exists on.
The public’s perception of the family or the private entities clawing at our throats.
We’re in the crosshairs of a business lost to eroding public trust or occupation and lifestyle lost to encroachment.
I drop my gaze but lift my shoulders. I have no answer for him. It’s the perfect storm. He’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t.
We both know it.
TWENTY
BARRELING DOWN LIKE A WEST TEXAS TORNADO
ELIAS
“Are you seeing the results?” Jon asks.
I nod, but recognize he can’t see that through the phone. “I’m watching them now.” I stare at my laptop as the muted TV displays talking heads. “The chyron is running every election across Texas right now, but I have the secretary of state’s site up and it isn’t showing what I hoped for. Are you expecting what I’m expecting?”
“The Judge won reelection. That’s no surprise. He’s a true politician. With his last name, he’s going places. And his financial backing was worthy of a statewide race, not a rural county Judgeship.” His sigh pushes through the line. “Reyes though… he surprised me.”
“I didn’t think his people would vote him out. I thought his victory was a sure thing.”
“Everyone did.”
“So, they’ll have unanimous consent to move forward with dissolving the conservancy and to bring in developers?”
“When it comes to a vote—yes.”
“Any idea when we can expect that?”
“Quickly. Don’t get complacent.”
“Got it. Thanks, Jon.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs before disconnecting.
I’m unhappy about Reyes, and not just because he’s a friend to the Rangers. He’s a good man who’s done right by his constituents and the county for a long time.
But what Jon doesn’t know—or at least what I haven’t told him, and I hope hasn’t gotten around—is Reyes has been helping establish some additional protections during his reelection bid. He’s made some introductions for me and smoothed the way for inroads for Kimp in other places, all the while campaigning.
There’s one last piece of my strategy that needs to fall into place to protect the Rangers. Tomorrow I’ll lean hard on the last of them so we outsmart the developer’s group. They’re bigger, richer, and throwing their weight around like bullies on the playground.
But anytime someone focuses on using their weight instead of their brains, they’re bound to be out-thought and out-strategized. I’m hoping for just that.
“I’m heading back to Pop’s.”
I turn to the sound of Brighton’s voice. I’ve all but moved into her place, but tonight we’re at mine. Well, I am. She’s heading to her every-other-night shift at Kimp’s.
“How grouchy is he about it?”
“He’s miserable and making us the same. I think he’d rather have a nurse. Well, he’d rather not need anybody. And he’s not far off from that.”
“He doesn’t really need round-the-clock care. I know you know that.” He’s been home from the hospital for three weeks.
“Either way, I’m going.” She flips her eyes to the TV and then my computer. “Think we’ll survive this?” she asks, waving her hand at the screens.
