Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 78227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Then again… Would we have gotten where we are now without him doing that? It may have been wrong on every level, but we finally got some answers.
“Then what? What do we do?”
“First thing is we hire somebody to bulldoze those two barns to the ground.”
“You mean after…”
“Yes. After we’ve had them combed for evidence.”
“So we’re not going to alert the authorities?” I ask.
“Absolutely not. You were right when you told Brittany that the authorities would never believe her. They won’t believe us either, son. This stuff is on our property, and somehow it got on our property without any of us knowing. That’s on us, and we have to do better.”
He has a point. We are good people. We were raised to be good people. Honest people. But by virtue of who we are, we have our enemies.
Whether it’s because of jealousy, or in Doc’s case, because we didn’t give him a position he wanted. Or myriad other reasons related to our good fortune.
“When will all this start?” I ask.
Dad is fiddling with his phone. “It’s already started. I’ve alerted our teams, and they’ll be investigating all the GPS coordinates as well as the rest of our land. Now that we know how to call Doc’s dogs off, there shouldn’t be a problem.”
“What about the dogs that are here?”
“Humane Society,” Dad says.
“Those dogs are my property, Joe,” Doc grits out. “You can’t just take them.”
“Watch me.” Dad shakes his head at Doc. “I made the right call all those years ago, Mark. I don’t like the way you treat these animals.”
“I use top techniques for guard-dog training.”
“I still don’t like it. The Humane Society will be here tomorrow.”
“Dad…” The Humane Society is far from my first choice, but I can’t take the dogs myself. I would if I could.
“These are good dogs,” Dad says. “Well trained, even if we don’t like Doc’s methods. They’ll find homes. Or jobs. I know what you’re thinking, son. I am too. I don’t want these animals to lose their lives.”
I nod, thinking of Sammy and Zach.
Already I’ve come to think of Zach as my dog as well.
I’ve always loved animals. You can’t grow up on a ranch and not love animals.
Doc clears his throat. “What about us?”
“Do what you want at this point,” Dad says. “We won’t try to stop you.”
“What does that even mean?” Doc asks.
“It means you’re being watched. Do what you want. Whatever it is that you want. But I have a feeling you’re going to be an upstanding citizen from now on.”
“What about her?” I gesture to Brittany.
“Same thing.” Dad looks at Brittany. “You want to cause any more trouble? Stir anything more up? Go for it. But we know what you’re up to now, and you will be watched. Every second of every day you will be watched.”
“That’s illegal,” she says.
Dad laughs. A wonderful Jonah Steel guffaw. The iceman has finally melted. My father is back.
“Do you really think you’re the person who should lecture us on what is illegal and what is not?”
That shuts her up.
“Stay here,” Dad says, “or return to Snow Creek. It’s up to you. But every move you make will be documented, so tread carefully. Oh, and Brock and I will be taking the jewels with us. We will have them appraised and their ownership traced.” He grabs the last velvet bag, shoves it into his pocket, and turns to me. “Brock, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
RORY
After an awesome rehearsal, we take a break at three p.m. Time for rest, and then a light dinner, before the show.
My phone dings with a text.
“Thank God,” I say out loud.
It’s from Brock.
Hey, sweetheart. Dad and I are on the road back to Colorado. Where will you be tonight?
Thank God you’re okay! I’ve been so worried.
I quickly add the address of our venue.
I can’t believe I won’t see you for a week.
I know. I miss you. I’m just so glad you’re all right. What happened?
I’ll call you later. Once Dad and I get back and I’m alone.
Okay. I love you.
I love you too.
I breathe a sigh of profound relief.
All this time, even during a rehearsal that went well, I had something holding me back.
No longer.
Brock is safe.
We’ll be okay.
Perspiration slides over my face.
But it’s good perspiration. The perspiration from a hard evening’s work.
We killed it tonight. The house was packed, and we were on fire.
Jesse and I were so in sync with our vocals, and the whole band was with us the whole time. All the way.
Two encores.
They clamored for a third, but we never do a third encore. Maybe we should rethink that position.
When I mention it to Jesse, though, he says, “Nope. That’s our band’s motto. Always leave them wanting more.”
“Then why not stop after one encore? Or don’t do any encores at all?”