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“Get the hell up! Both of you!” Gracey barked.
The odor of bourbon clung to Meadow’s father. His eyes were glazed from it. His mouth somewhat slack.
Meadow stepped forward and put her hand on the steel barrel of the shotgun. “Give me the gun, Daddy.”
Colton glared at her father, daring him to be careless with his daughter when in his cups. He would disarm the man and break his neck so fast, no one would be able to stop him.
No one would hurt Meadow. No one.
Her father swung his head to look at her. The fear on her face rippled into steel, the core strength within her.
“Give me the gun,” she demanded again.
He relinquished it to her, and she quickly broke it open to eject the shells.
Gracey looked between Colton and Webb. “I should send both of you packin’ right now. Fact is, I need both of you to keep the ranch working.” He nodded as if to himself. “More than ever, I need to keep it running.”
That statement didn’t go unheard by Colton. Meadow’s head whipped around, and she studied her father’s face too.
The man said nothing, just walked off back to the house, leaving two ranch hands with a lot more reason to hate each other standing in the yard…and his own daughter, shotgun still in her hands, gaping after him.
Suddenly, Forest’s words to Colton, his entreaty to come to the ranch and keep it afloat, to watch over Meadow meant something completely different. Whatever the hell was going on with the Gracey Ranch, Colton felt the undercurrent like a strong tide sucking at his feet.
Why did he get the feeling it would drag all of them under if he didn’t act soon? If only he knew what he needed to do.
Chapter Sixteen
Meadow poured the strong, black coffee into a white mug with a monogram in gold printed on the front. She walked to the kitchen table and set it in front of her father.
The man had spent the night with the bottle. His slumped shoulders said enough, but when he cracked an eye and she saw the bloodshot state of it, she knew he was hurting.
He looked as if he wanted to say something to her, but only managed to dip his head gingerly one time in a nod. Then he twisted the mug to grip the handle.
Stopping at the sight of the monogram, he ran a finger over the initial of her mother’s first name. A for Abigail.
More than anything, she wished her mother were here to handle her husband. At the same time, Meadow was glad her mother was spared the pain of losing her only son.
Forest was the only one who could ever handle their father after their mom passed away. For the first time ever, Meadow felt a swell of resentment fill her chest, for him leaving her alone to handle all this.
Only he hadn’t left her alone, had he? He sent Colton to her.
Her stomach bottomed out at thoughts of her lover. What made him return to the house last night? Was he coming back to her bed?
Then he’d discovered her in her father’s office, Forest’s letter in her hand, and after that, everything went to hell.
Walking out on her was a response to finding a letter addressed to him too. But scrabbling on the ground with Webb like a pair of pissed-off dogs was completely unacceptable.
She yanked out the kitchen chair with enough of a scraping noise on the floor to cause her father to wince. Good. Let him suffer.
Let them all suffer.
This morning, fury was her key emotion, not the love she’d felt last night when Colton stared into her eyes while moving inside her. Not the sadness at reading her dead brother’s final words to her.
No. She was furious.
“Did you enjoy your bottle of bourbon last night, Dad?”
He flinched at her cutting words and the loud quality of her voice that rang through the kitchen. With a jolt, she realized this wasn’t even a home anymore. It was just a space filled with appliances and food. What her mother had spent years making into a warm, cozy home for their family had withered the day she took that turn too fast on the icy mountain road.
