Sweet Home Montana Page 9

  I really wish Colt had been there for the reading. I’d have loved to see the look on his face.

  So, Cash will be moving into the main house, as landowner; he’ll take over control of the ranch, and Tripp will be his foreman, just as Cash was for Dad.

  Colt will continue on as lead hand.

  Me? Well, I guess I’m just expected to take my trust fund and go back to New York. To my big, expensive apartment in Tribeca. To my closet full of designer heels and handbags. To my dream life. But, right now, after everything that’s happened, as I sit here on the bed I slept in as a teenager, dressed in a simple black dress, preparing to say goodbye to my father once and for all, I’m not sure that’s what I want anymore. To go back to New York. New York City is like another world, now. A different world. A world that might not be meant for me anymore. A world that, perhaps, was never meant for me.

  I sigh a heavy sigh full of conflict and emotion, battling with myself to keep what little composure I have left dwindling inside of me. Half the damn town is expected to show up at Royal Wagner’s funeral, and I refuse to cause a spectacle of myself. If I can just make it through today without falling apart in front of anyone, I can come back to the house and fall apart in private.

  A gentle tap sounds on my door.

  “Come in.” I smooth down the skirt of my dress, standing.

  Cash steps in, dressed in a crisp black suit, a black Stetson perched on top of his head, beard neatly trimmed. His eyes are sad, and with one look we share something only two siblings can share on the day they’re laying a parent to rest. He clears his throat, pressing his lips together in the hint of a smile, lingering in the doorway as he takes a look around my room, and I can tell he’s flustered, that there’s something else on his mind.

  Tripp.

  “You ready?” Cash asks, straightening his tie.

  I nod. “Where’s Tripp?”

  He shakes his head, looking down to the floor a moment. “He was drinking … again.” He shrugs, shaking his head when he meets my gaze once more. “He stormed off in a huff when I told him to pull himself together.”

  Infuriatingly, my heart stammers in my chest at the thought of my brother out there, all alone at a time like this. Drunk, emotional. He’s not handling it. It breaks my heart to see him hurting so much. And I hate it. I hate that he can make me feel this way. It’s as if Tripp can do and say whatever he likes to me without consequence. He can hate me, mock me, pick at me and pick at me until there’s nothing left to pick. But still, he’s all I worry about, and if I’m being honest, I’d die for him. I just want my brother back.

  “He’ll be fine, Quinny. He just needs some fresh air,” Cash says as if he can read my thoughts.

  I take a deep breath that trembles through me, crossing the room, and I stop in front of my big brother, smoothing my hands down over his suit jacket, looking up at him before we wrap our arms around one another, holding each other tight in an embrace I can feel he needs just as much as I do. And then he takes my hand, leading the way.

  ***

  I wasn’t wrong. By the time our black car rolls to a stop at the very top of Wagner’s Bluff, a clearing overlooking the sprawling ranch, to the mountains in the distance, it appears almost the entire town of Black Canyon has congregated by the small family cemetery where my mother, my grandparents, great-grandparents, all my ancestors are buried.

  “Are you okay?” Cash looks at me from the other side of the car, and I nod. A lie. He offers a knowing smile, opening his door and getting out.

  The driver opens my door for me, taking my hand and helping me out of the SUV. I thank him with whatever sorry excuse for a smile I can manage, taking a deep breath before continuing around the car. I stop when I suddenly find all eyes on me in some kind of hushed reverence, like they can’t possibly believe I’m actually here, as if the estranged Wagner girl couldn’t possibly come back for her father’s funeral. The shock and confusion are palpable through the air, but I keep my chin high in a show of confidence I don’t feel.

  Cash is waiting for me, and I look only at him because he provides an assurance of safety and protection. He takes my trembling hand and we continue through the crowd of people, some of whom are smiling pitifully at me, others who are outright glowering at me, the girl who left Colt Henry at the altar. As Cash shakes hands with, and nods to the people he passes, I keep my eyes firmly planted on the ground, intimidated if nothing else.

  At the end of the walkway we’re met by Reverend Jackson and Shelby. Shelby hugs me first, holding me a moment, and I relax in her arms, closing my eyes, but when I open them, I’m immediately drawn to Colt walking toward the cliff’s edge, head bowed, his hands shoved into his pockets. He’s dressed in an impeccable suit, a matching black Stetson on his head. And that’s when I notice Tripp cutting a lonely, silhouetted figure, staring out over the view of the rolling mountains and lush green valleys of the ranch. Colt stops next to his friend, placing a supportive hand on his shoulder, their backs to us, and I find some relief in the fact that Tripp still has his best friend after all these years. I know, no matter what, with Colt by his side, Tripp will be okay.

  “Let’s get this over with.” Cash touches my shoulder.

  I nod, reluctantly following him, trying so hard to avoid the curious glances coming my way. I take the seat next to him, and Tripp staggers over with assistance from Colt’s steady hand, dropping down into the seat next to me with a huff. I take the chance to study Colt, from the disheveled hair beneath his lopsided hat, to his untucked button-down and loosened necktie. He’s a mess, in more ways than one. I want to reach out, to grab a hold of his hand, but I don’t do that because I doubt I’d be able to take his rejection.

  ***

  “Royal Wagner was a simple man. He asked for nothing, wanted for nothing. He was a fearless man. A man I looked up to my whole life. He showed me everything I ever needed, ever wanted to know. He had the kindest heart, but my God, was he stubborn.”

  The congregation laughs at Cash’s words, causing him to stop momentarily. He manages a smile, focusing back down on his notes. “But it was Royal Wagner’s relentless and unwavering stubbornness that was his greatest asset. He knew how to fight, how to challenge, and how to win. But he also knew how and when to admit defeat. Because with his stubbornness came a humility that not a lot of people are lucky enough to possess nowadays.”

  From the corner of my eye I watch Tripp bow his head, his shoulders trembling, and it takes all I have not to reach out and gently touch his arm in a show of support. Just to let him know that I’m here for him. But, again, I don’t. I leave that support to Colt on his other side, hoping like hell he’s holding him up as best he can.

  “Dad used to say, one day, son, this’ll all be yours.” Cash waves a hand in the direction of the land. “You need to know how to take care of it so, one day, you can hand the reins over to your son. And now, as I stand here, a father myself, I finally know what he meant back then. This is our father’s legacy, his life, his whole world.” Cash pauses, his eyes finding Tripp and then me. He nods. “It’s up to us to keep that legacy going, so that the memory of Royal Wagner lives on in this land that he worked so hard to hold on to his whole life.”

  Cash takes a moment, looking down at his notes, clearing his throat, and I can tell the emotion is getting the better of him. He looks up one last time, and this time his eyes meet mine, holding me steady with his gaze. “Dad always said that in life, it doesn’t matter where we go, or how long we’re gone for. What matters is that we never forget where we come from, so that, no matter what, we can always come home.”

  My jaw falls open and tears sting my eyes as I gawp at my brother, remembering my father’s words spoken almost ten years ago when I left Black Canyon. I manage a smile through my tears, nodding at Cash with a look of gratitude, because I had no idea how much I desperately needed to hear those words. And now, they mean even more than when I first heard them all those years ago in the airport.


  “This here, this is our home, and right here, among the memories of our mother, and our grandparents, our ancestors, this is where we will ultimately end up, because it’s here where we belong. Home,” Cash continues. “Royal Wagner is survived by myself, Cash Wagner. By my brother, Tripp Wagner. And, our sister, Quinn. And, Dad, this is our promise to you.” He pauses, looking down at the mahogany coffin laden with native wild flowers, so beautiful and rustic, just the way he would have liked it. “For as long as we grace this land of yours, we will never let your memory die.”

  Silence ensues, and Cash tucks his notes away into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket. On his way past, he places a hand on the coffin, stopping a moment and closing his eyes, whispering a few hushed words we’re not privy to before continuing back to Shelby, taking CJ from her.

  Tripp shifts off his seat, staggering a little to find his feet. He chuckles to himself as he sways ever so slightly with every step he takes to the lectern. I didn’t know he was speaking, and suddenly panic is settling low in my belly. I cast Colt an uncertain glance, and he meets my gaze with one of his own, fleeting, yet full of worry. I bite down on my bottom lip, watching as my unstable brother fumbles with the microphone, looking out over the gathering. He removes his hat, raking his fingers through his mussed, sandy blond hair, and his eyes are glossy, the whites painfully bloodshot, his gaze full of pure and unsettling disdain as it fixes on me, and immediately my skin pricks, because that is a look I know all too well.

  Please, Tripp, no.

  “Royal Wagner, huh?” Tripp begins with a chuckle. “What a guy!”

  Shit … I glance at Cash, his face ashen, jaw tight as he watches our brother with what appears to be bated breath, knowing exactly what drunk-Tripp is capable of.

  “You know, not many people know this, but the only reason I’m even here today, gracing God’s big beautiful earth, is because I shared a womb with my sister, Daddy’s little angel, Quinn.”

  Have you ever heard a pin drop? That’s the sound that trails Tripp’s spiteful, spluttered words.

  I close my eyes a moment as a few people in the crowd gasp audibly, whispering to one another as an awkward silence full of tension settles heavily in the air.

  “Yeah.” Tripp nods, wiping his sniffling nose with the back of his hand. “Mom and Dad wanted a daughter to complete their perfect little family. They never wanted another son. I was an added extra. A bonus. An unfortunate mistake. Collateral damage. I guess that’s why my whole life I could never do anything right, no matter how hard I tried. It was always Tripp’s fault. My fault I left the barn open when we were ten and a pack of wolves got in and killed two of the horses.” Tripp blinks at me, and I flinch under the weight of his scowl.

  I know exactly what he’s referring to. But it had been my fault. The wolves. I left the barn open. Tripp covered for me. He took the blame. I never asked him to, he just did it, but I never spoke up. I could have. It was nothing more than a careless mistake. I could have told the truth, but I didn’t, and it was my brother who had been punished for my mistake.

  “It was always my fault. My fault when Quinn left. My fault she never came back.” Tripp scrubs a hand over his face, sniffling. “I was nothing compared to my darling sister. Daddy’s precious little favorite. Which is funny, because it was me who stuck around. I stayed. I was the one who gave up every damn thing I ever had: college, a future someplace else. But I forfeited everything, just to stay and help keep this damn place running while she went off and chased her dreams.”

  At that, both Cash and Colt quickly get out of their seats, carefully approaching the lectern, one on either side of Tripp, forcing him away. But he doesn’t go without one last mention of me, struggling against his brother and his best friend to turn, pointing an accusatory finger in my direction. “I hope you got everything you ever wanted, Quinny!”

  My shoulders tense with the undeniable feel of everyone looking at me, their judgmental eyes boring into the back of my head. Shelby reaches out and takes a hold of my hand, but her reassuring touch is pointless. Tripp has succeeded yet again in tearing me down. But, the worst part of it all is that his words are nothing more than blatant, painful truths, and I can’t help but feel less than an inch tall as I sink further down into my seat.

  After a moment or two, Tripp is wrangled off to the side, out of ears’ reach by Colt and Cash. Reverend Jackson tentatively approaches the microphone, offering a faltering and awkward-as-hell smile over the congregation, his gaze zeroing in on me. “Would … anyone else care to say a few words?”

  I quickly shake my head once, looking down at my trembling hands in my lap, feeling my cheeks flame. I just want this to be over. I need to get the hell out of here, and quick.

  Chapter 10

  Sometimes, a house can feel most empty when it’s full.

  Sometimes, it’s when you’re surrounded by people that you feel more alone than ever.

  After the incident at the funeral, I’ve managed to keep out of the way for the most part of the reception. Buried in the small space beneath the stairs, on the bench seat where we used to store our rain boots as kids. The same glass of wine in my hand that I’ve been holding since we got back from the cemetery, just watching everyone as they eat our food, drink our liquor, and talk about my father as if he was their dearest friend. I can’t help but roll my eyes. My father hated most of the people in the Canyon. He kept to himself mostly. He had a few friends, like Duke from the bar, and Robert Whatshisname, who owned the Lodge before it was purchased by a big city corporation that turned it into a fancy country club for the wealthy landowners to sit and drink together and talk about how much money they have.

  This ranch was my dad’s whole life. His best friends were the horses and his cattle. He found solace in his land.

  Most of the people in this house right now barely even knew my father. They’re only here for the status. Royal Wagner’s funeral. It’s almost laughable. But still, I remain quiet and out of the way, because I don’t feel like dealing with any further drama right now.

  Tripp is off somewhere, probably halfway through another bottle of whiskey. Cash is doing the rounds. Shelby is being a good little hostess. CJ is curled up in my father’s old chair, sleeping like a baby; I wish he was awake so I could at least have him to keep me company. Hell, I’d even let him draw doodles all over my face again. But sadly, I have no one.

  I finish my wine, and glance around carefully, zeroing in on a server by the fireplace holding a tray of fresh glasses filled with rosé. I calculate how many steps it will take to swoop in, exchange my glass for a new one, and come back to my secret little alcove. My eyes furtively flit from side to side, surveying the possibility of damage, the threat of awkward encounters. But just when I think the coast is clear, I step forward, and immediately I’m approached by Ms. Winslow, a total gold digger who was trying desperately for years to make her way into my father’s bed, and his will.

  “Quinn, darling, how are you?” She looks down her surgically enhanced nose at me, circling the tip of her index finger around the rim of her crystal champagne flute.

  “Ms. Winslow.” I manage a tight-lipped smile.

  “Oh, darling.” She waves a manicured hand in the air. “Call me Sarah. We’re practically family.”

  She’s referring to the one date my father obligingly took her on, and I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing at her ridiculousness.

  “How does Colt feel having you back in town?” she continues, leaning in, speaking low so only I have the privilege of hearing her utter bullshit. “I’m sure it hurt like hell to see your face again.”

  I blink at her.

  “I mean, you are the woman who ruined his life, after all.” She sips her champagne, eyeing me over the lip of her glass. “Broke his heart. Forced him to the bottle. It must break his heart all over again to see you swan into town like you’ve done nothing wrong.” She clicks her tongue, shaking her head, and I catch the flash o
f something in her gray eyes, a glint of malevolence, and I know she’s goading me. I made her life hell when she tried dating my father. Now, the tables have turned, and it takes all I have not to launch at her.

  “Ms. Winslow.”

  I turn quickly at the sound of the familiar voice over my left shoulder. Colt standing there to my left, smiling politely down at Sarah Winslow, his eyes momentarily flashing to me before focusing back on the horrible woman. “Ma’am, do you mind if I steal Quinn away for a moment?”

  Ms. Winslow clutches a hand to her chest, her fingers deftly toying with the string of pearls around her neck, cheeks flushing profusely as Colt flashes her his dimpled smile. “Of course. Y’all go.” She waves us away, offering me an indulgent wink, and my hand balls into a fist before Colt takes hold of my elbow, leading me away.

  The moment I step outside into the cool afternoon air, I release the breath I’ve been holding in the hope that it would keep me from losing it at Ms. Winslow. I throw my hands up into the air, shaking my head at the woman’s insolence.

  Turning, I find Colt standing there watching me, his hands tucked into the pockets of his trousers, the hint of a knowing smirk lingering on his lips, and I can’t help but laugh. “Is that woman for real?” I yell through my incredulous laughter. “I mean, who the hell does she think she is?”

  Colt lifts a hand, scrubbing it over his lips in an attempt to stifle his grin while nodding. “Yep, she’s something else, all right.”

  “I swear, I could’ve shanked her!” I exclaim, holding up my empty wine glass for emphasis.

  Colt steps forward, removing the glass from my vise-like grasp and placing it onto a nearby fence post. “That’s why I stepped in. I could see it in your eyes. It was like Davina Bradford’s after-prom party, all over again.”

  I laugh out loud, suddenly remembering back to the night I almost threw down with Davina Bradford after prom when she was clearly trying to get her hands on Colt. She tried to tell me that my friend Taylor was looking for me. I went all over her huge mansion trying to find Taylor, and when I did, she just looked at me like I’d grown another head, telling me she wasn’t looking for me at all, that she was too busy making out with Brady Mason. I marched right back to the recreation room to find Davina in a compromising position with my boyfriend, Colt’s hands held innocently in the air while she was outright trying to give the poor guy a lap dance to a Beyoncé song.