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“There are no more storms coming,” Eli reassures me, stuffing the pink fiberglass into the walls. “MVP returned the land to most of the ranchers. The other ones are in the process of suing the pants off them.”
I stop hammering into the stall where I’m working and look back at him. “Where does Connor stand in all this?” I ask hopefully. I have no way of really knowing the details of what MVP was or was not doing, save for the gossip through Stannich and the few blurbs that barely mentioned the many felonies the company had undertaken in their quest to outsmart the residents of Stannich.
Eli shrugs and glances at Hudson, but he continues his task as if he’s not listening to us, even though I know he is.
“I’m not sure. I’ve only heard from some of the neighbors what’s going on.”
His information is about as useful as mine.
Tossing my hammer aside, I stand up, brushing the sawdust off my work clothes. “I can’t take this anymore,” I moan. “I need to talk to him.”
“We tried,” Eli reminds me.
“That was before,” I insist. “I can’t leave things like this. Nothing’s changed for him. He still thinks we all betrayed him. Whether MVP took him for a ride or not has nothing to do with what’s happening amongst us.”
“That’s bull—” Hudson starts to argue, but I stop him with a hiss and narrowed eyes.
I steel myself as Hudson appears taken aback in my anger and draw in a breath, calming myself before he can retreat in defensiveness.
“I understand that you’re set in your conviction that he’s wrong,” I say quietly. “But Connor’s hurt, Hud. Doesn’t that mean anything to you? He’s part of this, too, part of us. This is all of us. It doesn’t feel right without him, and you’re lying if you say it differently.”
I gesture between the three of us. “We are a team, and we can’t just leave one of us out because he made his feelings known. If we don’t bring him back…” I trail off and start again. “This isn’t right.”
Hudson firms his lips, and I exhale. “I’m going to his place. Can you keep an eye on Gran, please?”
Eli and Hudson exchange another glance as I turn around, but before I can take a step, I receive yet another shock.
“She’s not here,” Eli tells me.
I stop in my tracks. “What do you mean she’s not here?”
“Jeff Thomas came to pick her up an hour ago. They’re going to a museum or something.”
My jaw slacks, and I blink, spinning fully back around to gawk in disbelief. “She didn’t say anything to me! Jeff Thomas? Really?”
Eli swallows a smile, but it breaks through as my eyes narrow. “What?” I demand. “What are you grinning at?”
“She said, ‘Why should Rosie have all the fun?’ before she left. I swear, she skipped to Thomas’ car.”
I squeak in disbelief, but a burst of happiness rushes through me, almost overshadowing the melancholy I’m feeling about Connor. Never in a million years could I imagine my grandmother riding off into the sunset with the grouchy retired professor.
But if Gran is happy, I’m over the moon for her.
“Do either of you want to come with me to Connor’s?” I ask, sensing the answer even before they shake their heads. “Fine. I’ll be back soon, probably.”
Because he’s probably not going to let me in.And I’m not going through the doggie door again.
A gentle breeze cools my overheated body as I make my way over the hill and down toward Connor’s beautiful glass and wood ranch, a mile away. The walk does me good, giving me time to clear my head and really think about what I want to say as I approach.
Two of his horses are out in the pen, and to my surprise, he is on one of them. He takes my breath away, his muscles rippling as he handles the stallion with ease, the equine’s gallops as graceful as Connor’s classical movements.
Leaning on the fence, I watch him. He makes no indication that he sees me, but I know he does. Several times, he zips by me on the black and white horse, almost close enough for me to touch. I realize that he’s showing off for me, and I appreciate it.
He promised to teach me to ride. He better still do that.
Round and round he goes in the pen, and he doesn’t stop for almost half an hour, but I’m not going anywhere if he thinks he can wait me out. I can be just as stubborn as him. Finally, he does end his ride, slowing the magnificent beast to a slow trot and dismounts, a nearby stable hand moving in to take his saddle. Without looking at me, he stalks toward the house.
“Really? You’re not even talking to me now?” I demand, hurrying to catch up with him. “I wouldn’t have ever taken you for the silent treatment type.”
