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I roll my eyes, picking up the grooming brush again to start on my next horse. “That’s your prerogative, but we’ve all maintained our position so far. As long as we do, nothing will change. Don’t go fucking things up with that temper of yours?—”
“I’m not fucking things up, Hud. I’m trying to make things better for all of us.”
I say nothing and begin brushing out the next beast, her chocolate coat shining beneath my even strokes.
“You know that Katherine might give in, right?” Connor tells me. “She could be the weak link, and she’s right in the middle of us. If she goes, we’re all screwed.”
I tense, but I don’t stop my movements. He does raise an interesting point.
“She won’t,” I reply with confidence.
“How do you know?”
I don’t explain how I know, but I have no doubt that she won’t—and can’t—do what he’s proposing.
“Why do I bother with you?” He spins to stomp away. “It’s like talking to a brick wall.”
“Nice chatting with you.” A pang of regret shoots through me as he retreats.
It would not be hard to spell it out for Connor, but that would entail me speaking to him for longer than I’m willing to. I no longer have the patience for his schoolboy antics that I once endured. We’re fully grown adults now.
Maybe Eli will break it down for him,I muse.Or maybe Eli will just toy with him for the hell of it.
* * *
I cringe when I see the Range Rover parked in front of the house as I’m returning home from the stables. I have half a mind to sprint back toward the barn and pretend that I didn’t see my sister, but it’s too late.
“There you are!” Val yells out from the steps of the wraparound porch. “I was just about to leave.”
I sigh. If only I had stayed in the stables for ten more minutes.
Forcing a smile, I amble toward her, arms extended to give her a hug I do not feel in the slightest. Hugging Val is akin to hugging a tree with an equal amount of warmth returned.
“I didn’t know you were in town,” I say, releasing her as quickly as I embrace her.
She steps back, brushing off her suit as if I had dirtied her outfit, and offers me a thin, faux smile.
“You would if you ever returned my calls,” she scolds me. “I’m on my way to a conference in Bozeman, but I thought I’d pop in on my baby brother first.”
Lucky me.
“Come in. I’ll put on some coffee,” I offer, hoping she can’t hear my begrudging tone.
I had purposely avoided Val’s calls, but of course, she knows that. I sneak her a backward glance, half-hoping that she’ll refuse my offer of coffee, but she won’t do that. She’s come to check up on our childhood home.
She follows me through the entranceway, past the staircase, and into the kitchen.
“The place looks great, Hud. Have you really been taking care of this all by yourself?” My sister pulls off her trademark driving gloves. “Or have you found a special someone to share the chores around here?”
I’ve always believed that Val was born in the wrong era. She always struck me as someone who belonged in the sixties—or perhaps the twenties. With her firm belief that someone needs to take care of her, her wardrobe filled with vintage-inspired dresses and classic pearls, and her views that echo the sentiments of a more traditional time, she seems like a living anachronism, a modern-day woman whose soul is deeply rooted in the past.
“Me and a few hired hands,” I respond to her question.
“Too bad Daddy’s in that retirement home in Helena. I bet he could give you a bit of help.”
My neck stiffens so much, I actually hear the crick. Slowly, I turn away from the coffee pot and look at her, the true purpose of her visit now blindingly obvious. “Did he send you here to plead on his behalf?”
She shrugs nonchalantly. “He looks good, Hud. You should see him. He barely needs any help at all. That home is such a waste of money.”
