“Then we might as well hang up our hats now,” Alex said. “That cooking lesson is gonna make us a mint.”
Jack chuckled. “You’d be surprised how badly folks want to know her recipes.”
“Not really. My own mother has been griping for two decades about getting the recipe to Mama May’s turkey casserole.” He gestured toward the canvas. “What are you painting?”
Jack shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the barn. Just a little abstracted.”
Alex’s gaze shifted to the barn in the distance. He tilted his head and was able to see a little of what he thought Jack was seeing. “I’d like to see it when you’re done. I could use some new art for my clinic walls. To be honest, I’m sort of tired of puppies in boots and kittens in baskets.”
Jack laughed. “Occupational hazard, I guess.”
“Is Jameson inside?”
“In the office.” He turned back to the canvas, dipping his brush in a dark red color.
Alex hesitated. “Hey, Jack. What was your opinion of the drive yesterday?” He knew Jack would think the question was about Gavin and the IG takeover, and not a way of keeping tabs on Brenne.
Jack stared off into the distance for a moment, his features unusually thoughtful. “In one way, I was relieved. My father took over as trail boss again, for the first time in almost five years. He’s finally got his strength back. But in another way, I was more adrift than ever. I put my life on hold to take care of him, and I would gladly make the same choice a hundred times, but now that it’s five years later, what life do I return to?”
Alex put a hand on his shoulder. He felt selfish suddenly, caught up in a petty mindset chasing after a girl he told himself he didn’t want, and one that likely hated him. Jack was going through a crisis of identity. It would be hard to suddenly feel useless when you’d been so essential for so long.
He realized that part of what he was feeling with Brenne mirrored Jack’s emotions. Brenne had always been there, sometimes in the background, sometimes the foreground, but always available if he felt the need. Then he’d acted like an insufferable bastard and now a wall stood between them, one he’d built himself.
Alex squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “You’ve made a sacrifice that few others have. Be kind to yourself. It’s going to take time for you to figure out what the next step in your journey is. No one expects you to have all the answers now.”
Jack didn’t reply, but Alex thought he felt some of the tension in the other man’s shoulder fade. Alex released him, letting him know that he was available if Jack ever felt the urge.
The house was quiet when he walked inside, which was a tad unsettling given how many MacAllens were usually hanging around. He made his way to the office where Jameson sat hunched over a map, a bottle of scotch open on his desk. He looked up when Alex entered. “Doc Parsons. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
Alex came around to stand beside him and look down on the map sprawling across his desk. “What’s this?”
“This, my friend, is the MacAllen ranch in all its glory.” Jameson gestured broadly, then let out a small burp.
Alex realized his friend’s words were slurring. Just barely, but enough to signal Jameson’s intoxication. No wonder that bottle is half empty. “And why are we looking at it?”
“Just trying to get an idea of how much of our land Gavin Jeffries has traipsed across.” He indicated a line that stretched for about ten miles. “This was the cattle drive.” His finger then circled around the farmhouse that included the stables, the barn Jack had been painting, and a few other outbuildings. “We know they’ve been to these places at least. And Evan saw them at the lake.” He tapped the blue blob indicating the lake, then curled his fingers into a fist and rested them on the map. “Old Gavin must have a pretty good idea of the topography of our ranch by now.”
Alex pulled up a chair and sat. “You think he’s fixin’ to buy your place?”
“I think that whatever he’s fixin’ to do, we’re playing right into his hands. He’s basically got full access to anything he wants to see or know once word gets out that he’s been spending time with us. We’re basically giving him legitimacy. An open invitation to Whiskey River, just by breaking bread with the man.”
“Would it be better to shun him? That has its disadvantages too. At least if you know where he is, you’ve got an idea of what he’s up to.”
“Do we, though? Brenne herself said he doesn’t think like us. I’ve never seen a man act weirder, always spouting off random facts and poking around in everything for no reason I could see. He’s more curious than a damn cat.”
“I mean, he’s a billionaire from the big city. Maybe he just wants to see how we live. Now he can tell his friends back in the city that he went on an authentic Texas cattle drive.”
“That’s what I thought too, at first,” Jameson said, grabbing the bottle to pour a few fingers into the glass beside it. “But he wasn’t no adventure tourist type. He wanted to talk about the herd’s methane production and price fluctuations on a pound of premium steer.” Taking a swig of scotch, Jameson shook his head. “How in the fresh fuck am I supposed to be able to predict what he’s going to do?”
“What does Brenne say?” Alex could feel his blood pressure rising as he asked the question.
“She doesn’t say anything about it. Don’t think I haven’t pressured her. All she’ll say is she thinks he’s harmless. But I beg to differ.”
“You don’t think she’s sweet on him, do you?” He asked the question with as much neutrality in his body language as possible. It was a reasonable question, he figured, with as much time as they’d been spending together the last few days.
“I’ve got no earthly idea. Brenne never seems to be sweet on anybody.”
Alex felt a little let down by his words, but he told himself he was being foolish. He changed the subject because there were too many landmines to step on if they kept on the topic of Brenne. “The horse Brenne has been working with, Ghost. He’s gonna need a new place to stay.”
“She’s already got a stall earmarked for him,” Jameson replied. “Matter of fact, she’s in the stables right now, getting it ready.”
“I’ll go speak to her, then,” Alex said, standing and heading toward the office door.
“Good luck,” Jameson grumbled. “Just a fair warning. Gavin is there with her.”
Oh great. That’s just what I need.
CHAPTER 18
BRENNE
“Why are the floors in here concrete? Wouldn’t the horses be more comfortable on dirt, like the ground outside?”
Brenne had never met anyone who asked so many questions. “You ever tried to clean a dirt floor?” He blinked at her, so she reached up to pat him gently on the back. “You’re right about comfortability, which is why we put down thick rubber mats in the stalls and then spread around all these lovely wood shavings to use as bedding.” She indicated the wheelbarrow that she’d filled with shavings. “Now we just have to set things up.”