Page 24 of Colt

“I’m going to ride the fence and Jett is in the Cotton barn, painting. Chelsea wanted to have it painted, so Jett said he’d do it. Steve and Bobby are baling hay and stacking it in the loft.”

“Okay. Joey’s mucking the stalls on that side,” Colt said, nodding toward the stalls on the other side of the aisle as they walked toward the office.

A few days later, Colt stood beside Brian in the barn, talking about chores to be handed out when he heard Brian groan, and looked at him.

“What’s she doing out here?” Brian said, nodding toward the door where Chelsea had just entered.

Colt’s eyes shifted in her direction before turning back to face Brian. “Hell, who knows? She’s probably here to bust my balls for some reason.” A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth and Brian chuckled in response. “Go ahead and do your chores, Brian. I’ll see what she wants.”

“Yes, sir.” Brian left the barn by the back doors.

But as Chelsea approached, Colt could see that something was wrong. Her eyes were red and puffy, and it was clear she had been crying.

“Is everything all right?” Colt asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

“No,” Chelsea replied with a shake of her head. “Mr. Cotton passed away this morning.”

“What?” Colt was sure he’d misheard her.

“Yes,” Chelsea confirmed, her voice wavering with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Colt. I hated telling you.”

The news hit Colt like a punch to the gut. He felt like the air had been knocked out of him as he processed the news. He removed his hat, ran a hand through his hair, then replaced the hat.

“I can’t believe this,” he muttered, in shock. “That man was like a father to me.”

Chelsea reached out and touched his arm comfortingly. He looked at her for a moment before turning away, unable to hold back tears any longer. He strode to his office, closed the door behind him, and collapsed into his chair behind the desk.

He stared down at his hands, clasped together on top of the desk, and tried to make sense of the flood of memories that came rushing in. Walt Cotton had taken him in when no one else would have. He knew Colt was running away from something or someone when he first arrived, but he didn’t ask too many questions. Eventually, Colt opened up and told him about the troubled life he had left behind.

And now, Walt was gone. Colt couldn’t believe it. He had loved that man and the pain of his loss was almost overwhelming. He fought to hold back tears, but they managed to escape and slide down his cheek.

The door opened and Chelsea quietly entered the room, her own tears now falling freely down her face. She sat in a chair across from Colt’s desk and looked at him with sympathy and sadness.

“I’m so sorry, Colt,” she said softly.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, but no words would come. The ache in his chest felt unbearable. He knew that eventually the pain would lessen, but for now he just wanted to curl up and mourn the loss of someone so dear to him.

“You know,” he finally spoke up, his voice thick with emotion, “I really missed him after they moved away. But I always thought I would keep in touch with him.” He paused, his voice breaking. “I got an email from Tricia just two days ago. She said everyone was doing... great.” Tears started to stream down his face again. “He turned eighty-one last week.”

“I didn’t know him as well as you did,” Chelsea said quietly, “but he was always kind.”

Colt shook his head in disbelief. “That man didn’t have a mean bone in his body. From the moment I arrived here, he treated me with nothing but kindness. He saw the good in people and never judged anyone. I loved him.”

“I know you did, and you have to know that he loved you too.”

“I do.” Colt sighed. “Could you leave me alone for a while, Chelsea?”

She stood. “Of course, I can. Take all the time you need.”

“If you could let me know about the arrangements, I’d appreciate it. I’d like time off to go to the funeral.”

“I’d like to go too. We could go together if you want. He’s being buried in the Clifton Cemetery. Tricia said he wanted to be buried at home.”

“I know he did. We can go together.”

Chelsea nodded and left the office. Colt wondered how he’d get through the funeral of a man he idolized but he knew he wasn’t the only one who would find it difficult. He wondered how Tricia was doing and shook his head. They’d been together for over sixty-five years. Walt told him the minute he saw Tricia when he was only sixteen, he knew she was the one and they’d been together ever since.

Colt sighed, pushed the chair back, stood, and walked out the door. He ran into Chelsea and quickly grabbed her arms to keep her from falling.

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