Page 4 of Hero for the Holidays

They amassed shopping bag after shopping bag. A giant fuzzy beanbag that looked like someone had skinned a Muppet and repurposed it, string lights, and the pièce de résistance was that he had been roped into buying the kid agecko, which included a terrarium, heat lights, a spray bottle for moisture, and crickets. A box full of crickets.

So when he drove back to Four Corners the next day, he had about twenty bags full of merchandise in the back of his truck, and had a lizard in the back seat. And a kid in the front.

Well, one thing was for certain. His family was sure as hell going to be surprised.

He and Lila took the drive in relative silence. He let her have the aux cable and choose the music, which made her less full of hate and gave him a headache, but he felt like he was trying at least.

It wasn’t the nice getting-to-know-you ride he’d wanted. But he wasn’t sure if he knew how to get to know another person. It was a hell of a bad time to realize that.

But thankfully, they made it back quickly enough, and when they turned onto the long dirt road that would take them to King’s Crest, the King family ranch, Lila straightened a little, looked out the window.

“This is it,” he said.

The King house was full as usual.

Landry could fully admit that they were an unconventional family. He’d heard of something once called a trauma bond, and he thought that maybe they might all have it. Their mom had left when they were young—because their father had been difficult at best, and a gaslighting narcissist on days ending iny.

He had been cold and distant. And cruel. Unless he was love-bombing them and making them question their sanity. Good times.

When his sister, Arizona, had gotten in a terrible car accident, their dad had blamed her. He’d shamed her. Made her feel worthless. He’d seen her pain as weakness, and he’d exploited it.

But the thing about their dad was that he had four sons. And there was a point where Denver had had enough.

His oldest brother was a mean son of a bitch when he had to be. But he was straight up. He didn’t go in for any of the manipulation tactics of the senior King, and Landry had always strived to emulate Denver.

He felt like Daughtry and Justice did the same. They worked the land together. Hell, until recently they’d all still shared a house. But Landry would be moving into his own place now.

Even with all that, he didn’t feel like they were especially close. They worked alongside each other; they were that kind of close. They had common goals. But they didn’t share things about their lives.

But Denver always seemed to be trying to outrun their father’s legacy. And when it came to doing good, his brother did his best.

He had a hard time softening. A hard time showing any kind of caring, but the doing was there.

Justice seemed connected largely to his friend Rue, who put up with him in spite of the fact that he was... Well. One ofthem.

And Daughtry was impenetrable. He kept his cards close to his vest, and always seemed prepared to burn the whole hand if anyone got too close. And again, Landry knew he wasn’t any better. He was the one showing up to dinner with a secret kid.

Nothing like family secrets.

But then, they all had their secrets, he supposed. Denver had done his part to bring the family together, and they all got along great. The way they’d been raised had made it hard for them to talk to each other. To talk to anyone, really.

Their dad had liked to foster rivalry between the boys to make them tougher. Which mainly meant telling Denver and Daughtry they were his right-hand men, while making Landry and Justice feel like they didn’t measure up.

Landry hadn’t even understood the extent of the damage his dad had done in the community until the man had gotten arrested and sent to prison for his involvement in a debt collection gone wrong that had ended in the death of one of his employees.

That was when Denver and Daughtry had gotten wise to it.

Justice had never seemed surprised. But he’d never said much about it.

Denver’s response to it all had been to take control of King’s Crest and aggressively turn it around. Daughtry’s had been joining the police force in an effort to make things right in the broader community. Arizona, who was one year older than Landry was, had hated their dad already and she hadn’t made any bones about it. She’d coped with it by getting meaner.

Landry had been young still, and nursing a broken heart. Maybe part of why he’d decided to improve things here on the ranch had been to prove that he could. That he was good.

But then, they all shared that complex.

The truth was, this place was founded on pain and dishonesty.

“So, the whole ranch is run by four families,” he said, as they turned onto the long road that carried them off the main highway. “Technically, it’s four individual ranches, but we share profits and finances, vote on new initiatives and have big meetings once a month to make sure everyone—down to the newest ranch hand—feels involved. We have a teacher, kids go to school here in the one-room schoolhouse. There’s a...a farm store on the property with fresh produce and baked goods people can buy. King’s Crest is our piece. We have cattle.”

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