Page 10 of Claimed By 3 Mountain Men

“You didn’t have to hold him still while he bled out on us. Sorry doesn’t change anything,” Hank spits out, his voice hard and unyielding. “Dad’s gone. And now we’re left to pick up the pieces.”

“We’re going to figure this out,” Ben interjects. “Together. We need to keep the business running and find a way to move forward.”

“That’s the thing. I’m worried about the way Dad was operating things,” I say, the concern I’ve been holding back spilling out. “There seems to be a lot of questionable decisions. I think we should bring in a lawyer to help us sort through this.”

“What do you mean by that?” Hank asks, watching me.

“I don’t trust these records.”

“You think Dad was doing something illegal?” Hank asks, his voice raised.

“No, I didn’t say that” I raise my hands in a placating gesture. “I just think we need to make sure everything is in order before we take over the reins of the company.”

I gesture to the piles of financial documents. “It doesn’t add up. And trust me, I know a thing or two about shady business dealings.”

Hank's jaw clenches, but before he can respond, Ben says, "JT may be right. We should get a professional in here.”

“Jesus Christ,” Hank runs a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath. “I’ll call one of the attorneys Dad used in Denver, see if they can come out here and help us sort through this mess,” he mutters begrudgingly. “But first, I’m going into town. I need a damn cold beer.”

“Then let’s grab a beer.”

“All of us?” Hank asks.

“Shit. Why not? The Silver Spur Salon is still open past ten, right?” I reach for the truck keys sitting on the desk. “Come on.”

4

MAC

As I walk down Main Street, I take in the quaint storefronts, the diners with delicious aromas wafting out, and the friendly nods from passersby.

After a night in town, I’ll head out to camp.

The door to Silver Spur Salon jingles as I enter.

I order a local IPA, scanning the room for a spot to sit. I find a table near the window and settle in, my ears pricking at the snippets of conversation around me.

“It’s terrible what happened to Luke,” a woman at the table behind me whispers.

“I know, but at least his boys are back in town now. Maybe they can turn things around at the ranch.”

Curious, I eavesdrop shamelessly.

“I heard those brothers haven’t spoken in years,” a man replies, lowering his voice too. “They’re all back in town now.”

”What happened to Luke?” I ask, feigning ignorance as I turn to them.

The two women meet my gaze with cautious expressions. “You haven’t heard?” the first woman asks, staring at me completely dumbfounded.

“No, I’m new in town,” I say, offering a polite smile. “I’m just here for some research.”

The second woman, a bit older and with a more sympathetic look, leans in slightly. “Luke Truitt died recently. It was sudden and unexpected.”

“Oh my, that’s terrible. How did it happen?”

The first woman glances around as if to ensure no one else is listening, then lowers her voice even more. “They say it was an accident, but some folks think there might be more to it. The Truitt family’s logging business has been under a lot of pressure, and Luke was known to push the boundaries a bit.”

“Push the boundaries?”

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