twenty-first century. “No. That’s not a reason people get married anymore.”
“Well, she sure the hell must have some excuse to be willing to get tied to a loser like you.”
Gabe pulled in his temper. “This isn’t a discussion about Allison and my relationship. I wanted to let you know she had some great ideas for the ranch—you do remember that she works in the industry. She’s a highly respected consultant.”
Ben crossed his arms. “If she’s willing to get hooked up with you, I’m not sure how highly respected the woman could be. Doesn’t get any from me.”
Gabe chose to ignore the stupid comments and press ahead. “We can make a few changes and start increasing our profits. Aren’t you at least interested in what she had to say about that?”
His father stepped closer. “I’m not interested in a woman coming and telling me how to run my place. I don’t care to hear any ideas from some high-strung pup who can’t keep his responsibilities in line and has to go chasing a skirt to find a way to become important. Is that why you hooked up with her? So people in this town might finally respect you? It’s not going to happen.” Ben spat to the side. “The only reason I don’t kick you out is you at least have the guts to halfway do your job on a daily basis.”
Gabe held in the words he wanted to scream. To tell his father to shove the ranch up his ass, and that Gabe was leaving and never coming back.
The same thing tied his hands as had made him return years ago.
Dana. And Rafe.
Ben reached down and grabbed something from the tall grass before walking away without another word.
Gabe stared after the man, the sense of lost opportunities and lost hope slowly crowded out as he realized what was in his father’s hand.
Dammit . The cardboard box from the kitchen.
Rage exploded like a long-set mine. He pictured the expression on his ma’s face, on Allison’s, as they’d cooed over the tiny kittens.
It might have made no sense, but his limbs were already moving. He threw his hat to the side and raced to the end of the dugout. The water was murky with springtime runoff, but the ditch wasn’t that wide. He stepped forward and leaned over, hands reaching for the bottom. Hoping that whatever Ben had used could be found quickly.
He ended up with his head under the dirty water, hands grasping at weeds and rotting straw that had blown and settled in the waterhole. He rose and sucked in a breath, diving again and moving farther toward the middle. He was nearly out of air when his fingers caught on the edge of a rough sack.
Feet to the bottom to propel himself upward, Gabe pulled the burlap free, lifting it over his head. He scrambled one-handed up the narrow embankment, mud coating his clothes. The chill of the water not even registering as his anger burned.
Yes, at times the farm cats got out of control, but they didn’t have too many right now. No need to go and drown the little things.
His fingers felt like wooden sticks as he tore at the knot. A heavy rock pinned the sack to the ground, motionless lumps lying next to it.
A beam of sunshine hit the ground to his left, spotlighting the sad little creatures he pulled one at a time from the open bag. Motionless, their soft fur matted and clumped to their lifeless bodies. Gabe fought the tears that a grown man shouldn’t shed, but damn it all, this was part and parcel of how fucked up his life had become.
He wasn’t dead, but at times it seemed being dead would be easier. And it was his father who had tied the sack tight and thrown him in.
Regret at having been too late tore through him, and he growled in frustration. Tiny bodies lay in accusation that what he had done was too late and too little.
That it would always be too late and too little.
Gabe jammed on his hat and sat back on his heels. Soaking wet, mud covered from head to toe. Staring down, his heart breaking over a bunch of useless, insignificant kittens.
The urge to give up
“Well, she sure the hell must have some excuse to be willing to get tied to a loser like you.”
Gabe pulled in his temper. “This isn’t a discussion about Allison and my relationship. I wanted to let you know she had some great ideas for the ranch—you do remember that she works in the industry. She’s a highly respected consultant.”
Ben crossed his arms. “If she’s willing to get hooked up with you, I’m not sure how highly respected the woman could be. Doesn’t get any from me.”
Gabe chose to ignore the stupid comments and press ahead. “We can make a few changes and start increasing our profits. Aren’t you at least interested in what she had to say about that?”
His father stepped closer. “I’m not interested in a woman coming and telling me how to run my place. I don’t care to hear any ideas from some high-strung pup who can’t keep his responsibilities in line and has to go chasing a skirt to find a way to become important. Is that why you hooked up with her? So people in this town might finally respect you? It’s not going to happen.” Ben spat to the side. “The only reason I don’t kick you out is you at least have the guts to halfway do your job on a daily basis.”
Gabe held in the words he wanted to scream. To tell his father to shove the ranch up his ass, and that Gabe was leaving and never coming back.
The same thing tied his hands as had made him return years ago.
Dana. And Rafe.
Ben reached down and grabbed something from the tall grass before walking away without another word.
Gabe stared after the man, the sense of lost opportunities and lost hope slowly crowded out as he realized what was in his father’s hand.
Dammit . The cardboard box from the kitchen.
Rage exploded like a long-set mine. He pictured the expression on his ma’s face, on Allison’s, as they’d cooed over the tiny kittens.
It might have made no sense, but his limbs were already moving. He threw his hat to the side and raced to the end of the dugout. The water was murky with springtime runoff, but the ditch wasn’t that wide. He stepped forward and leaned over, hands reaching for the bottom. Hoping that whatever Ben had used could be found quickly.
He ended up with his head under the dirty water, hands grasping at weeds and rotting straw that had blown and settled in the waterhole. He rose and sucked in a breath, diving again and moving farther toward the middle. He was nearly out of air when his fingers caught on the edge of a rough sack.
Feet to the bottom to propel himself upward, Gabe pulled the burlap free, lifting it over his head. He scrambled one-handed up the narrow embankment, mud coating his clothes. The chill of the water not even registering as his anger burned.
Yes, at times the farm cats got out of control, but they didn’t have too many right now. No need to go and drown the little things.
His fingers felt like wooden sticks as he tore at the knot. A heavy rock pinned the sack to the ground, motionless lumps lying next to it.
A beam of sunshine hit the ground to his left, spotlighting the sad little creatures he pulled one at a time from the open bag. Motionless, their soft fur matted and clumped to their lifeless bodies. Gabe fought the tears that a grown man shouldn’t shed, but damn it all, this was part and parcel of how fucked up his life had become.
He wasn’t dead, but at times it seemed being dead would be easier. And it was his father who had tied the sack tight and thrown him in.
Regret at having been too late tore through him, and he growled in frustration. Tiny bodies lay in accusation that what he had done was too late and too little.
That it would always be too late and too little.
Gabe jammed on his hat and sat back on his heels. Soaking wet, mud covered from head to toe. Staring down, his heart breaking over a bunch of useless, insignificant kittens.
The urge to give up
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