Page 78 of Steadfast

“Well, so far,” he answered, pausing to take a sip from his mug, “two quads down, a whole lot of fencing, a good portion of our flooring throughout the downstairs, and one very expensive bull,” he listed. “And I keep asking Oakleigh to turn in her walkie—she keeps insulting me and changing the subject, so I’m sure we can add that to the list,” Sawyer rolled his eyes. “This turned out to be one pricey trip, Mom.”

“I suppose that’s what insurance is for,” Maeve replied. She had to admit the fiasco wasn’t all Oakleigh’s fault. She had time to consider her own responsibility and knew it was a direct reflection of her lack of leadership. Despite their pushback, she should have held firm and insisted on following through with the hard work of preparing the ranch. Most of all, she should have listened to her instincts. Maeve had let herself become distracted, and the fallout was proving hefty.

Their conversation was interrupted by a loud knock. She went through the large living room, savoring the peace and quiet of the early morning hours. When she opened the front door, Dallas was standing on the porch with his hands in the pockets of his Wrangler jeans.

“Since when do you knock?” She tilted her head and felt a smile build.

“Since, well—” his voice faded away. He didn’t know where he fit into the family anymore, and neither did Maeve.

“Dal, you’re welcome here no matter what,” she reassured.

His eyes smiled back at her, but it was mixed with a noticeable glint of sadness. “I heard about your missing bull. I’m here to lend a hand.”

Sawyer greeted Dallas with a firm handshake. “We appreciate it. We can certainly use as much help as we can get.” He stepped out into the overcast morning and led Dallas to the barn to get him saddled on a horse and ready to go.

Maeve let Sawyer take the lead on the search for Lil’ Slim. Although it was tempting to use it as a valid excuse to makeherself scarce and protect her peace, she recognized that there were others in the house who needed her. Gathering her patience and courage, she set her personal preservation aside.

Before long, Maeve’s biggest headache made her way down the stairs, her slow footsteps creaking with each step.

Harper pulled up a chair at the island and took a seat, waiting to be served. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she was attempting to smooth out her disheveled, wrinkled top. Despite her face appearing a little tight around the edges, there was still a crinkle between her eyes as she squinted through her hangover.

Maeve couldn’t help but note that the similarities between Harper and Oakleigh were uncanny.

“Oh, it’syou,” Harper mumbled. “Do you have anything to drink around here?”

“I’ve got some fresh coffee on the stove,” Maeve answered. Her nerves rebelled against her at the sight of Harper in her kitchen, and she tried not to sound as shaken as she felt. Turning to the percolator bubbling on the stove, she reached up to the cabinet to fetch a mug. She paused, opting instead for a steel travel mug.

“I’ll just have a glass of wine,” Harper tossed, her voice sounding breathy and raspy as she leaned her head heavily on her fist.

“Well,” Maeve shrugged as she clicked her tongue against her teeth, “I’m afraid all I’ve got is coffee.” Even if she did have a stocked wine cabinet, hell would freeze over before she wouldgive Harper the fuel for another hateful tirade. “How do you take yours? Let me guess, a splash of oat milk?”

Harper’s fingers pinched between her eyes as she closed them, attempting to rub away the nagging pain of her headache.

“Black.”

Maeve stopped mid pour. “You drink your coffee plain?” She had never expected to have anything in common with her sister, yet there it was.

“Is that a problem?” Harper mumbled, noticing Maeve’s hesitation.

Maeve topped off the steel travel mug and pushed the lid on tightly. She opened the cabinet and grabbed a bottle of headache medicine. Twisting off the lid, she tapped two pills into her hand. Reconsidering, she tapped out a few more and popped a couple in her own mouth.

She set the little pile of white pills beside the mug in front of Harper on the kitchen island.

“What’s this?” Harper eyed the travel mug, her lip curling in disgust. “I guess I’m taking my coffee to go?”

“No, you’re free to stay,” Maeve replied. She leaned back on the counter and picked up the handle of her own ceramic mug of steaming hot coffee. “We’ve just learned to keep the breakables away from Davenport women.”

“Funny,” Harper responded dryly. She took a drink of her coffee, refusing to give Maeve any gratitude, let alone even the slightest ofcompliments.

The silence felt oppressive.

“We have church tonight,” Maeve mentioned, searching for something to say. “You’re welcome to come if you’d like.”

“Ah yes,” she swirled the coffee in her cup. “We’ve all heard about Maeve’s little coffee shop and her perfect little church.”

“Oakleigh’s done really well at the shop,” Maeve continued, ignoring Harper’s disdain. “She’s been very busy,” she mused, “too busy, really.”

“I’m sure Oakleigh’s done what Oakleigh does best.” Harper rolled her eyes. “Make messes.”

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