Page 128 of Branded

Downstairs, the kitchen is full. My father stands at the stove with his cane hooked over his arm, flipping bacon. Cole is at the griddle making pancakes. Cage sits at the table, drinking coffee and looking exhausted.

“There she is,” Dad says, turning to look at me. “How’d you sleep?”

“Better than I expected.” I move to the coffee pot, needing caffeine. “You didn’t have to make breakfast.”

“Of course we did. Can’t have you going hungry.” Dad studies me with those sharp eyes that miss nothing. “You look pale. Are you feeling alright?”

“Just tired. I’ll be fine.”

Cole sets a plate of pancakes on the table. “Eat. You barely touched dinner last night.”

I sit and try to eat, but everything tastes like cardboard. My family watches me with concern that makes my skin crawl.

“Stop,” I finally say. “Stop looking at me like I’m going to break. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Cage says bluntly. “Nobody’s fine after that.”

“Well, I’m as fine as I’m going to be. So can we please just act normal? Pretend this is a regular family visit?”

The men exchange looks.

“Alright,” Dad finally agrees. “Normal. We can do normal things.” He brings his plate to the table, settles into a chair with the careful movements I’ve gotten used to. “Claire says hello, I talked to her last night.”

I choke on my coffee, and Cage shakes his head warningly at me.

“You okay, Lenny Lou?” Dad asks as he frowns at me.

“Yep, just the wrong pipe,” I sputter and avoid looking at the men around the table.

“So. Your ranch operations here. Tell me about them. What’s different from Montana? And how are those bulls doing that you bought from me?”

And just like that, we slip into ranch talk. Cattle breeds, pasture rotation and weather patterns. Normal conversation that lets me pretend yesterday didn’t happen.

* * *

After breakfast, Dad pulls me aside. “Walk with me?”

We go out to the porch, and he settles into one of the chairs with a slight grunt.

“Your brothers are going to head out this afternoon,” he says. “Ranch doesn’t run itself. But I’m staying for a few more days. I want to make sure you’re really okay before I leave.”

“Dad, you don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do. You’re my daughter, you went through hell and I’m not leaving until I’m satisfied you’re alright.” He doesn’t say any more; we just sit in the chairs with our coffee and watch the ranch.

Cole and Cage leave after lunch, promising to call, check in and come back if I need them. I hug them both tight, grateful they dropped everything to rescue me.

Dad stays, and while I don’t think I need a babysitter, it’s nice to have him around while Sebastian is dealing with resort problems and the fallout from yesterday. I’ve never really gotten one-on-one time with Dad over the years, so I’m grateful for that too. He takes over the guest room like he belongs there. And that night at dinner, with just the three of us, the conversation finally turns to what’s been hovering unspoken all day.

“The sheriff called,” Sebastian says. “He wants formal statements from both of us today.”

“And the investigation?” I ask.

“Perfunctory. They’ll go through the motions, but Caroline’s got everything locked down. By next week, this’ll be ruled a justified rescue operation and closed.” He stops. “Marshall’s properties are already going through probate. We’ll likely acquire most of their land and assets within six months.”

“So you’re profiting from their deaths.”

“That’s how this works.” Dad’s voice is matter-of-fact. “They tried to take from us, but they failed. Now we take from them. That’s justice at this level.”