West of Forever (Heartstone Ranch #1)(19)

While I’m not saying this current batch of Stones isn’t causing the drama on our land, we’re not exactly innocent over the decades either.

He crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Then who’s doing it?”

“I don’t know,” I say quickly. I look to Momma, hoping that the kind, loving woman who resides in her heart will make her way out.

Her gaze moves from mine to my brothers’, then to my father’s. We all wait, because as much as my father likes to think he’s the head of the house, we all know it’s Momma. She and Daddy have some unspoken communication, and then my father places his fork and knife down and folds his hands together.

“He didn’t ask for anything in return after helping?” Daddy asks.

“No.”

“He just…was kind to you?”

“Yes.”

He also is who returned my truck to the driveway, but I leave that out. No need to stoke the fire.

Daddy nods. “And you believe the tale he spun that he’s not doing things to our farm? The farm that has nurtured your love of horses, fed you, kept you safe for your entire life?”

Oh boy.

While I don’t know if what Tristan said is true, I also don’t just automatically believe they are doing it. There’s no gain. The Heartstone Ranch is thriving. They do almost ten times the business we do. We breed horses, but mostly for show. We also have a cattle portion of our ranch, which is the investment that Ryan made that’s been…a nightmare. Still, their operation is leaps and bounds above ours. Just based on the fact that they are constantly out delivering horses, and I know at the auctions they well outsell us, so there’s really no reason to try to hurt us, other than the fact that we hate each other.

Tristan isn’t a nice guy, per se, but he’s not mean. He’s been through a lot, and I’m really confused as to what his motive could be. He’s a single dad, doing the best he can, and cutting wires and moving animals and hay from one side of the barn to another just seems…trivial.

“I believe that the Stones are…arrogant enough”—that word should soothe their Gatlin pride a little—“that they’d want the credit.”

There. That should do it.

“Or they’re liars and went for the weakest link,” Ryan adds. “They knew you were easy picking, and they knew they could get you on their side and turn you against us.”

I scoff and point my fork at him. “You are one to talk. How many times did you get roped into some stupid scheme that landed us in hot water? Oh, like the last one that we’re still trying to recover from because you sank the farm into a hole. Not sure I’m the weak link, Ry.”

The air in the room grows thick, and I know I stepped in it.

My brother is why we’re drowning in debt. He’s made bad investments, bad decisions on expansions—like the cattle. Then he sunk a bunch of money into some co-op horse-trading scheme that lost the majority of our money. But because both of them came on each other’s heels, it’s causing the farm to suffer.

I was wrong to bring it up. It may be true, but I let my temper flare and I feel awful. “Ryan, I’m sorry,” I say quickly.

He puts his napkin on the table and pushes his chair back.

I get to my feet. “Please, don’t go,” I plead. “I didn’t mean to say that.”

Ryan shakes his head. “You’re right, Lark. I fucked up. I’ve done some stupid things, and we are in this mess because of me.”

Guilt fills my veins, and I hate my big mouth. “Stop. I never should’ve said that. I was angry and lashed out. I’m sorry. Truly.”

I am a lot of things, but I never, ever want to hurt anyone. My brothers have done everything for me, without question.

He nods once. “I know you are. And I’m not mad at you—I’m mad at myself.”

“Be mad at me,” I say quickly.

Ryan purses his lips. “I’ll do that too, but I’m going to fix that fence now before the sun goes down.” He looks to Momma. “I’m sorry for ruining dinner.”

She tilts her head. “Go on. I’ll fix you another plate and keep it in the box.”

“Thanks.”

He walks out, and I quite literally hate myself. This is why they call me Tornado. I’m all sunshine and rainbows until something sets me off, and then I get whipped up and spun around, taking out anything in my path.

It doesn’t happen much since I grew up, but when I was a kid—oof, I was bad.

I turn back to the table, where everyone is quiet and not eating.

“I’m sorry, y’all,” I say to my family.

Deacon speaks first. “You weren’t wrong about Ryan, Lark, and maybe we’re wrong about the Stones and what’s happening with the farm, but I just don’t think we are.” He looks to my parents. “Can I get a plate kept for me too?”

“You’re done eating as well?” Momma asks.

“No, I’m going to eat all of this, but I’m a growing boy and need sustenance.”

And just like that, the energy shifts, and we finish our meal while mine sits like a boulder in my stomach.





I walk out to the property line where my farm and Tristan’s come together. I sent him a text asking if he could meet me out here to talk. I figure if I can beg him to help me prove his family isn’t messing with us, we can put this calling-the-cops bullshit to rest.