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#boycottRunawayRanch
Your downfall is imminent.
Thanks for showing us your true colors. GROSSS.
#cancelcowboys
Absolutely disgusting thinking you can treat human beings like this!!!
Anger surges through me as I read the flood of backlash. It’s all foreign as fuck to me. Technology isn’t worth my damn time, not when I have a ranch to run and animals to take care of. I couldn’t give two shits about the type of people who run wild at the mouth without caring who they hurt or have no interest in getting both sides of the story. Gossip is all they care about. Revenge. Keyboard warriors with fucking sticks up their asses.
Ford drags a hand through his dirty blond hair that curls behind his ears and along the nape of his neck. “Cantankerous fucking Karens,” he mutters.
“Shit.” Wyatt rears back from the comments like they’ve reached through the computer screen and slapped him across the face. “They want people to boycott the ranch. Those fuckers.”
Davis jerks his chin at the social media posts. “Weshould’ve been doing this social media shit from the beginning.”
I rub my temple at the harsh admonishment. My older brother is always the semi-frustrated voice of reason.
“I talked to Tina.” Davis’s gruff voice is sober. “We’ve already had four cancellations.”
My ears ring at the sudden seriousness of his words, and I lift my eyes heavenward.
Fuck, this is the last thing we need.
It’s our first week of the season. We’re not a success, but we’re surviving. Every year, we put our blood, sweat and money into our land and our animals, and now one trigger-happy woman is ready to burn it all down.
The idea of losing guests, respect, money, already has me tired.
I give one last look at the video and then shut off the monitor.
Fucking social media.
Davis narrows his eyes at Ford. “I’m not thrilled with you right now, asshole.”
Ford snaps open his mouth, but Wyatt shoves up out of his chair, no doubt ready to fend off an argument. While my younger brother’s always ready to start trouble, he also finishes it. “C’mon, y’all. Let’s get a drink.”
I rub a hand over my beard, a list of problems to tackle already running through my head.
Wyatt raises a finger. “I know that look. You ain’t gettin’ out of it. It’s Friday night, man.” He jerks his chin at Ford and scoffs. “Would you believe this guy? Only hangs out with his horses when he has three perfectly good brothers.”
I let out a resigned sigh when Ford claps my shoulder and propels me outside. Keena follows, trotting loyally beside Davis. My brothers won’t back off, so I guess I gotta give the fuck in.
I meet Wyatt’s eager face and give a nod. “We going to Nowhere?”
Wyatt hoots. “We’re going to Nowhere.”
The vein in my temple throbs in annoyance as the waitress slams a round of ice-cold beers down on our table. The jukebox cranks out outlaw country amid the booming rabble of the Choir Boys, a law enforcement motorcycle club pounding shots in the corner.
Coming to Nowhere was a bad decision. By now, everyone in our small town has seen the video. Lucky for us, they’re on our side. Unlucky for me, everyone wants to offer their opinion and sage advice.
Scoot, our resident prepper, leans in like he’s got all the secrets of the universe. “I tell ya, I tell ya, I tell ya what, Charlie, man, you gotta screen these people. They’re looking to cause trouble, so you gotta prepare. Take their phones at check-in. Institute curfew. I’m telling you, man, panic rooms.”
“That so?” Davis grins, an ice-cold beer at his lips. “Tell Charlie some more. I don’t think he gets it.”
