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I kept expecting Boone to put his walls back up, act like the stoic rancher who didn’t crack a smile for anyone, but he didn’t. He cheerfully chatted with me all the way back and continued to point out places and items of interest along the way.
It was a gorgeous spring day, and I couldn’t imagine the ranch looking any more beautiful. The sun was warm on our backs, and the sky was the same deep azure blue as the Aegean Sea in Santorini.
Unfortunately, the hearts and sparkles riding in a rainbow bubble over my head came crashing to the ground as soon as we broke through the final stand of trees between the main calving pasture and Norma’s chicken coop. A cluster of men crowded the gravel parking area in front of the bunkhouse, shouting and shoving each other.
Boone bit out a curse and leaned forward in the saddle, nudging Victory’s side with his heels until the horse picked up the pace and brought Boone right to the center of the action. He swung down and tossed his reins to PeeWee before wading into the mix, causing several of the men to scatter. All except for one.
The remaining man was large and square, the buttons on his checkered shirt straining against the bulge of a middle-aged paunch. He looked like he might have been fit once and intimidating. Now, he looked soft. His expression, however, was anything but. His cheeks flared an angry red, his eyes flashing and spittle at the corner of his fleshy lips.
He launched himself at Boone. “You motherfucker! You killed my cows! I know it was you!”
Boone clearly hadn’t expected the man to come at him, but he reacted quick enough to raise his hands and sidestep the man’s swing. When he spoke, he sounded calm and even-keeled, but there was still a sharp edge to his voice that laced his words with a threat. “Now, Walt, what’s got you in a lather?”
My eyes widened in recognition of the name as I drew alongside PeeWee. “Wait, is that Walt Hosser? Tyler’s dad?” I asked in a low voice.
PeeWee nodded. “Showed up about ten minutes ago, demanding to see his son and talk to Boone.”
I glanced to where Tyler stood off to the side. He looked small, surrounded by so many larger cowboys, and while he tried to keep his shoulders stiff and his chin raised, I could see a slight tremble to his hands fisted by his side.
I slid out of the saddle and handed the reins to PeeWee. “Can you take Branson?”
PeeWee nodded, immediately understanding my intention. “The boy could use someone on his side.”
The quiet statement was a rare look into the mechanic’s heart and mind. I thanked him and quickly skirted the group toward Tyler. As I got closer, I could see tears spiking his lashes and pink flags of anger on his cheeks. I moved to stand behind him, clasping his shoulder with one hand and giving him a reassuring squeeze.
“You okay?”
He nodded, but I could feel the tension radiating from him.
“What’s going on?”
He shook his head. “Seems like some of Dad’s stock died. Apparently, the vet told him it was poison, and they traced it back to one of the ponds. Dad’s saying it was Boone that did it—says he’s got a witness to Boone coming onto his land sometime last week.”
I frowned. There was absolutely no way I could imagine Boone ever doing something like that. He had too much respect for the animals and too much respect for the land. Plus, he just wasn’t that cruel.
“Why in the world does he think Boone would do that?” I asked.
Tyler lifted a shoulder. “Boone bought some of Dad’s land back in the day, and I guess Dad wasn’t happy about the deal after the fact. He’s always thought Boone stole his land from our family and has been saying for years that it was only a matter of time before he tried stealing the rest.”
I snorted. The whole idea was absurd. Especially now that I knew how wealthy Boone was. If he’d wanted the rest of the Hosser land, he’d have just made them an offer they couldn’t refuse.
I looked to where Boone and Tyler’s dad were in a heated argument. They were far enough away that it was difficult to hear what they were saying, though every now and again, Walt’s voice would rise in a series of threats and cursing.
Tyler ran a hand down his face. “This never would have happened if I hadn’t come to work here.”
I turned and took him by the shoulders. “This is not your fault, Tyler.”
He tried to look away, and I squeezed his shoulders lightly until he met my eyes again. “I’m serious. You are not your daddy—you’re your own man. You don’t own his choices or his mistakes.”
