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“You can’t let him stop you,” Elliott commented, his words slightly slurred.
“You’re as bad as a gossipy old lady,” Russel teased his dad. “Stop trying to matchmake.” Elliott rolled his eyes and smiled, sipped his beer, and ordered some more food. “Jesus….”
“I have a hollow leg,” Elliott said. And when the server set another plate of food in front of him, he proceeded to down almost a whole order of wings. “And I’m going to enjoy things while I can.”
“Dad…,” Russell said warily.
“The doctor says I’m fine. But I’m not getting any younger, so….” He burped and drank the rest of his beer, then ordered another. Russell cautioned him again, but Elliott brushed him off and finished his wings, then started in on the fresh beer before heading to the bathroom.
“What’s going on?” Rafe asked as Elliott weaved slightly through the crowd.
“I don’t know. He doesn’t usually drink this way.” Russell shook his head. “I don’t get it.”
“What is today?” Rafe checked his watch. “November 14. Does the date mean anything to you?”
Russell swallowed hard and then nodded. “I didn’t realize. Mom died five years ago.” He sighed softly. “Maybe it’s not so bad to let him tie one on tonight. Dad has done pretty well since she passed away, but I know he still misses her. We both do.”
Elliott returned and slumped in the chair, raised his beer, and then downed a good part of it. “Come on, Dad,” Russell said. “Let me take care of the tab and we’ll go on home.”
“I don’t want to,” he said softly.
“It’s okay to miss her, Elliott,” Rafe said. “You go ahead and drink all you want. Russell and I will get you home and pour you into bed.”
Elliott patted Rafe’s cheek a couple times. “You never knew my Isabelle. She was an amazing lady. Hell, she put up with me for thirty-five years.” His eyes filled, but he blinked and took another swig of his beer. “Then the doctor said she had cancer, and she was gone in six months.” He turned to Russell. “You don’t know what it’s like to go to bed alone after having someone like your mother beside you all that time.”
Russell nodded, and Rafe signaled the server to ask her for three mugs of coffee. When they arrived, Rafe set one in front of each of them, and Elliott drank his without complaint.
“I hate beer,” Elliott said. “You don’t buy it; you rent it.” He headed to the bathroom once more.
“Do you need me to help you get him home?” Rafe asked.
“No. It’ll be fine.” Russell paid the bill, and Rafe followed as Russell guided his weaving father to the truck. “I’m sorry about this. I should have paid closer attention to what day it was.” He got into the truck, and Rafe stood out of the way as Russell backed out and waved before disappearing into the snowy night.
THE THREEdogs greeted him at the door, tails wagging. He petted each of them and made sure they had water and food. Then he flopped onto the old sofa, turned on the near-antique console television, and flipped through the channels to find something interesting.
Lights turning into the drive caught his attention, and he got up and went to the front door. The snow seemed to have let up, thank God. But then he sighed when he saw Grant Mendeltom get out of his car and charge across the snow-covered drive like a damned bull. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He slid to a stop at the base of the steps. “You little shit!”
“What? All I did was beat Duane at a game of pool. He’s the one who issued the challenge,” Rafe told him as levelly as he could. “I think you and your son need to back off.”
“Why? We don’t need people like you in this town. It was bad enough living next to Mack with the shit he pulled.” He stepped closer, trying to intimidate. “I know that damned uncle of yours caused that avalanche and took away most of my water. And come hell or high water, I’m going to get it back.”
“Just get the hell away from here. I don’t know what happened between you and Mack, but I’m staying. And let me tell you this. Even if I was to sell, it certainly wouldn’t be to you. So get the hell off my land.” He’d had all the bullshit he could take for one day.
Mendeltom grinned. “I don’t know…. There are some holdups on the estate, from what I hear.” Rafe ground his teeth. Mendeltom had been talking to his parents. Hell, maybe the asshole and his parents had been communicating for years. Rafe wouldn’t put it past any of them. “When the will is broken, your parents and I have a deal. They’ll sell the land to me, and that will be the end of it.”
“Not going to happen. So get going—now.” Rafe raised his voice, and the dogs gathered behind him. “Hey, guys.” The dogs growled, and Grant took a step back, then finally went back to his truck. Rafe got the dogs inside and closed the door, watching as Mendeltom left.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath, suddenly realizing something else in this messed-up situation. Not only had his parents cut Uncle Mack off, but they’d kept tabs on him through the damned neighbor. This was really fucked all to hell. And it showed Rafe just how far his parents were willing to go to get what they wanted. He flopped back onto the sofa with a sigh, wondering what the hell he was going to find out next.
THE WINDOWSrattled as Rafe pried his eyes open. His back ached, and he blinked from under the old blanket he’d pulled over himself. Something had awakened him, but he couldn’t figure out what. The dogs were curled together on the floor, and Rafe shivered as he straightened out. The house was stone cold and dark, with no light inside or out. He reached for a lamp and got nothing. “Looks like the power is out,” he said softly. And that obviously meant the heat was out too.
He quickly built a fire and grabbed his phone to check the time—four in the morning. He groaned as the wood caught and some heat started to flow into the room. The dogs gathered close, and by the time he’d added a few logs, the cold room was starting to feel warmer. Rafe sat on the sofa once again, sprawling out under the blanket to try to get a little more sleep. He had to get up in a few hours to check on the horses and make sure the ranch was bedded down for what seemed like one hell of a snowstorm.
When he woke again, the dogs were fussing at the door. Lola barked once, and the others whimpered. Rafe pushed the covers back and got up, then threw another log onto the fire before going to the door. He peered out the window as a figure weaved down the drive. Rafe hurried through to the kitchen, pulled on his boots and coat, and headed outside.
The wind and snow whipped around him, the cold going right through his clothes. He pulled the coat closed, watching as a figure materialized out of the snow squall. “Russell?” Rafe asked as he reached him. “What are you doing out in this?”
“I was supposed to travel and got caught in this storm. The truck slid off the road and got stuck.” They reached the back door and went inside, warmth settling around them once they got out of the wind.
