She kneels down, fingers trailing the jagged break. “Not unless they’ve figured out how to use tools.”
“Hazel said she thought it was just leanin’. Said it’s been happenin’ for a while.”
“Yeah?” Georgia looks up. “Because this looks like someone kicked the damn thing in.”
“Exactly,” I mutter, yanking another post out of the truck bed and dragging it over. “And this section runs the boundary where we lease land to the Stevens ranch. But if their cows get loose and tear up someone’s land or make it onto the road, the liability falls back on us. Lease says we maintain the perimeter.”
Her eyebrows lift. “So you could get sued.”
“We could lose the whole lease,” I say flatly. “It’s one of the only steady income streams Ma’s got since wheat sales dropped last season.”
All the little shit I’ve learned since moving back has thrown me for a loop. Even worse, I feel awful that I’ve been away, avoiding my family, avoiding responsibility, while they’ve suffered and struggled.
Grief where my dad’s concerned might be healing, but this all just adds another layer of guilt to the never ending pile.
Georgia watches as I line up the new post and slam the first strike down with the driver. The sound vibrates through my arms and chest.
"Thinking of putting in cameras," I add into the comfortable silence. "Good ones. Night vision, motion triggers. Friends of mine could rig them up.”
“That’s a good idea,” she says softly. “Honestly? I'm surprised you haven’t already.”
“My parents never had the money before. And after Dad died, I wasn't around to notice how bad it got.” My jaw flexes. “But I'm here now.”
She doesn’t say anything, but I feel her eyes on me while I hammer. When the post’s set, I step back and wipe the sweat from my brow with my shoulder, breathing hard.
“Still don’t make sense though,” I finally say, mind racking for answers. “Who the hell would have it out for us?”
Georgia walks up beside me, her gaze scanning the field like it might hold answers. “Could be someone trying to rattle you. Or your mom. Or maybe it’s not about you at all—it’s about the land.”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Been thinkin’ the same.”
“Cooper Ridge?”
“Don’t know, baby. Doesn’t make sense for a big fuckin’ company like them to mess with us in such…” I trail off searching for the word.
“Immature way?” She scoffs, using her hand to cover her eyes and glare up at me. “Did you forget the reckless, irrational behavior of the leader at the bar?”
Anger swirls through me, fast and hot. “Fuck no.”
And I haven’t. Probably never will. And now that I know who he is—Clint Cooper, son of multi-millionaire Jett Cooper, I’m even more pissed. Wealthy, spoiled rich fucks like him don’t know how to takenofor an answer. Explains why he thought putting hands on my woman was okay.
But he’s in my town now.
Not in a big city, with big lawyers.
We handle shit differently here.
Money and power aside—I see him near her again, I’ll probably kill him, consequences be damned.
“Still don’t think it could be them?”
With a long, tired exhale, I shrug. “Don’t know, to be honest. Seems like they’d use money instead of fear tactics and fucking with our little operation, but if it’s not them, I have no idea who or why it’s happening.”
Dropping my head back to stretch my aching shoulders, I stare at the blue sky, not a cloud in sight. The constant random showers of early spring have passed, and now that it’s nearly June, the sun is bright and hot.
Winter crops are blooming strong, and wildflowers are poking up in long rows of bright colors. The wheat’s about a month and half out from being harvested, and I make a mental note to talk to Georgia about what she wants to do when it happens.
“And the fire?” she asks, drawing my attention back to her. “Did you get the final word from the Calloways?”
