Chapter Thirty-Two
‡
Rowan’s foot let off the gas the moment Dad said, “Slow down there, lead foot. None of them are chasing us.” She glanced at him guiltily and let the car slow even more. She was relieved to be heading back home, no more rude stares from the residents of Star Valley, no awkward silences at dinner surrounded by Barlows, none of whom she wanted to see again. She was grateful that Willow was still so young, so oblivious to the tension so often swirling around her. And to the Barlows’ credit, not one of them had made the little girl feel anything less than a new, welcome addition to their already large family.
“See, Pop-Pop! I told you my daddy got me a pony!” Willow declared, beaming in the backseat.
“Yep. You did tell me,” Dad replied.
“She’s borrowed, but she’s still mine. For a little while.”
Rowan fought the urge to set the record straight for the millionth time. Just saying Seth’s name out loud seemed like a Herculean task at this point. She let it go, let him go, and everything to do with him.
The hills rolled past, but the mountains beyond remained steadfast. Part of Rowan wanted to go home, but part of her just wanted to keep on driving, straight to the Tetons, and maybe never look back. Finally spying their driveway (and the gate Seth had repaired for them) she pulled to a stop in front of the house, parked the car, and gestured toward the porch as she got out. “Get the door, baby,” she requested, intending to help Dad out of the passenger seat.
Dad groaned, and Rowan rushed to his side. He was stiff, clearly sore from being out and about for so long. If it hadn’t been a holiday, she’d have insisted that they stay home so he could get some much-needed rest.
“No more going out,” she declared.
Dad tried to laugh, but it came out in a coughing fit. When it subsided, he said, “Well, sweetie, if I don’t go to church, how will I see your mom after the big one hits?”
Rowan glared at him as they shuffled up the porch steps. “You better be talking about an earthquake and not another heart attack.”
He shrugged. “Might take a heart attack over steamed vegetables. Though I wouldn’t say no to more of Sofia’s empanadas.” He coughed again, this time so hard she had to fetch him a glass of water.
“We didn’t have to go to Snake River,” she declared.
Willow held the door for them as Rowan helped him into the house.
Her father grunted. “Yes, we did. And you know why. They’re family, Rowan. Like it or not, you have to do things for your children that you wouldn’t do otherwise, not if it was just yourself.” The old man held her gaze as he looked up at her. “We can’t have them helping out over here when we need it just to turn our backs on them when we don’t.”
For a moment, Rowan’s stomach twisted as she thought he was talking about Seth, but then she remembered letting Court watch Willow the other day. Dad still didn’t know about Seth, didn’t know that the minute Rowan had come back to Star Valley she’d taken up with yet another Barlow and it had ended disastrously, as all relationships did, especially where a Barlow was concerned. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth or admit that it had been mostly Seth she’d wanted to avoid.
“Here, sit down,” she said, trying to change the subject.
She didn’t want to talk about it, but she was done making mistakes, that much was certain. Dad was on the mend, and she was moving back home, and that was all she needed, honestly, to make her happy now. Willow would grow up on the farm Rowan loved, with a grandfather who adored her. Dad was right, you did things for your children you wouldn’t do otherwise. Rowan would just have to give up on the idea of love, the thought of having a partner to share her life with, so that Willow could go on living the life she deserved.
She’d made a choice, years ago. She’d chosen her daughter’s health and happiness over her own. Rowan had been a fool, nothing less than a God damned fool, to think that she’d ever have anything for her own damn self.
Willow had a father, a grandfather, and a piece of land that had been in the family stretching back generations, if Rowan didn’t somehow manage to screw that up, too. Life here would be hard, harder still being mostly on her own, but as she watched Willow climb up into Dad’s chair, settle onto the man’s lap, and reach for the TV remote, Rowan knew it was the only choice left to her.
“We don’t need their help, Dad,” she said as the TV flickered on. “I can do it.” She didn’t wait for a reply. She headed out the front door, instead, leaving Seth’s borrowed jacket hanging on the hook, preferring the cold at this point. In the barn she flipped on the ceramic heaters and picked up a broom, telling herself that she could save the place with her own two hands, if that’s what it took.
She just had to figure out how.
Chapter Thirty-Three
‡
Seth stood behind Court as he pushed the office door inward. He was surprised to see Austin and Walker standing together in front of Dad’s large desk. It was clear from their faces they’d been arguing. Seth groaned inwardly, thinking that, quite possibly, every single Barlow was going to come to blows today over one thing or another.
Walker eyed Court as he and Seth entered the room. “Are you two ever going to stop fighting?” he asked wearily.
Seth leaned against the wall and gazed at the twins. Neither of them seemed worse for wear. Yet. “Could say the same about you,” he replied.
“We’re not fighting,” Walker insisted.
“Not taking swings at each other, at least,” Austin added. “But I can’t seem to get it through Walker’s thick skull that if we don’t do something, we’re going to lose this place.”
“On that we actually do agree. We’ve got to do something,” Walker told them all. “Or we’re not going to make it.”
“I keep saying that!” Austin shot back.
Walker was quiet for a moment, tapping his fingers on the top of the desk. “It’s…worse than you think. We don’t have enough left in the business accounts to stay afloat another two years.”
Court sat up straight, and even Seth blinked at his oldest brother furiously. “Two years?” Seth cried. “What?!” Surely they had more than that, surely it was savings for at least another five. Maybe seven if they were careful about costs and didn’t have any cows that failed to breed.
“How is this possible?” Court demanded. “That’s not right. That can’t be right.”
Walker scowled. “I’ve been in this room,” he told them, “crunching these numbers all day, every day. This is the way things are. There’s money going out, but not much coming in. We’re paying too much for feed costs, paying outfits in Texas for God knows what.”
“Texas?” Seth asked.
Walker shrugged and gestured to a stack of papers scattered on the desk. “Bull services,” he replied.
“Bull services? We have Sampson,” Court argued. “Plus the frozen stock. What are we still paying for?”
Walker sighed. “I have no idea. I haven’t sorted it all out yet. Dad had a system, and we…” He paused and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I guess we thought we’d have more time, for him to explain it all. I think…” He looked at all of them, as though he was unsure what to say, exactly. Which was new territory for them. Walker always knew what to say and never had trouble saying it.
“I think he knew that if he started laying it all out for me ahead of time, all our vendors, all our expenses, if he did it before the storm, I might have cottoned on to what he was going to do. Or maybe he hadn’t planned it all that well in the first place. I don’t know. Maybe he’d been thinking about it, in the back of his mind, what he would do if one more storm came through. And then one did…and he had to go.”
“He didn’t have to go,” Court growled.
“Well, he thought he did,” Walker argued.
“I still don’t get why you think that, why you think he’d do that,” Court accused.
“It doesn’t matter,” Walker told him. “It’s just the way it is.”
Austin leaned forward in his chair, looking up at his twin. “We need to try something, something new, something different.”
“I agree,” said Seth.
“It’s putting us at risk,” Walker declared. “We could just end up losing Snake River faster.”
“We won’t,” Austin insisted. “I know we won’t. It’ll be a good spring, Walker.”
Walker frowned. “Not even you can tell what next winter will be like. Not this early.”
“No,” Austin admitted. “I can’t. But a good spring and summer is all we need, and it’s what we’re going to have. I can make this work. I swear to you, to all of you. I can make this work.”
Walker looked at each of them with a dour expression on his face. “We all have to agree. And where’s Sawyer, anyway?”
“Outside the door,” said Sawyer as he moved into view. “Just eavesdropping. And making sure no one throws another punch.” He grimaced, though, when he saw Court’s black eye. “Guess I’m late on that score.”