"Well, sure."
Garrison shook his head. "I still say you're dragging your demons out into the ring and beating them up in the name of tortured redemption, but that's one man's opinion." He leaned against a beam. "What would you do if your power cut out while you were in a fight?"
"Not sure why that would happen, but if it did, I'd keep fighting."
"Wouldn't you be kind of... blind?"
"Maybe. But if my training is solid, it shouldn't matter. I don't use my danger-detecting ability in every fight, you know."
"Interesting."
"Are you out here to talk MMA? Or something else? Because I have to keep moving."
"No. I'm worried about what we're up against. What's going on here at home." Garrison paused. "Where your skills are most needed."
Ah, the real agenda. "Don't lay that guilt trip on me."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Yeah, right." He walked to the punching bag and started pounding the hell out of it. Anything to keep the sweat going. He paused. "You got new ideas about that creature since we last encountered it? Because that thing is scary as hell. Any connection as to how it relates to the Brands?"
"Nothing about the Brands makes sense. But, no, I can't figure out a connection."
"Their place is weird."
"Kerr said you went to the Brands' place." Garrison rubbed his jaw.
"Long story. Took Dr. West on a house call. The Brands really rolled out the red carpet, loaded guns, insults, and nasty behavior. Even cousin Linc was there to help."
"Linc?"
"Lincoln McDowell. The bastard I'm fighting tomorrow. Man, he's a big fucker."
"That's oddly convenient to have him hanging around, isn't it?"
Bambambambam. "That's what I thought. But, apparently, he's somehow related to those nut jobs over there. Anyway, the visit was downright terrifying, what with the creepy people and veiled threats."
"What did you do?"
"Got her the hell out of there as soon as humanly possible and took her to file a police report." And no, Vaughn wasn't about to share his part in the sappy episode where she poured out her deepest, most horrible secret and he comforted her in the truck. Or the not-sex later that night.
His brother snorted. "Good luck with the police helping."
"We had to do something."
"I agree." He stared up at the rafters. "You're at least in good company. Kerr and I got a similar warm weapon reception when the Brands kicked us off National Forest land near their property three weeks back."
"Now they own public land?" Memories of the fear written on Mariah's face made him slam his fist into the bag harder with each blow. That bag had become the face of any number of people over at that ranch.
"No telling how those guys think. All we know for certain is that Hank did bad things, then disappeared. And it's obvious that Wyatt's gotten weirder over the past several weeks. Best we can tell, the Brands are likely still cooking up some scheme to get our ranch. They're into mining or something. Maybe they want to strike it rich." Garrison scuffed his work boot on the dirt floor. "Oh, and they burned down the barn and probably stole a bunch of our cattle. You know, that, too."
"Yeah. Details." Vaughn wiped sweat. "So what the fuck was that black thing then?" He sniffed. "Hell, I'm just glad that Ruth and Odie bought the song and dance about a bear coming in the yard and how we needed to yell and shoot a gun to shoo it away. If Ruth leaves now, I'm not sure what will happen to Dad..." Not a thought he wanted to follow to a conclusion. "But about that black cloud thing. You really think the creature has something to do with the Brands?"
"Kind of feels that way, but I can't figure out how. I don't have your gift of detecting danger, but I sure as hell can see that we all need to be careful and stick together."
Vaughn pulled a punch and slowed the swing of the bag. "Whatareyou saying?"
His brother shook his head. "Just saying it's good you're here right now. And I'm glad you're doing... better." Meaning not drinking and not "adultering." Reasonable enough.
Could he stay here? Another twinge nailed him in the chest. No way. Too much history, too many ghosts. Too much responsibility. Too many expectations. Garrison should have been the oldest. He had done a great job of keeping the family and the ranch going.
Except for Dad.
And the barn.
And Shelby and Eric.
But whose fault were those incidents, anyway?
