Page 33 of Peaches

“He’s not,” Kasey says simply. A clear door closed.

“Right.” Stuart nods. “I figured as much. A shame, to be sure. Look, as William is the current acting trustee of all Bennett family assets and operations, it’s imperative that I speak with him as soon as possible. Do you know when might be a better time for me to come back around and see him?”

I snort. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when William is ready for any sort of meeting with you.”

Stuart’s eyes narrow, but there’s something that flares to life in his expression. Something . . . triumphant, like he’s got the best hand at the table. I don’t like it one bit.

“Do you have a card?” Kasey asks.

“Oh, sure!” Stuart reaches into his suit jacket to pull out a black card with white lettering. “That’s my cell phone there, and my email is also listed beneath if that’s easier.”

“Great,” Kasey mumbles. “I’ll, uh, reach out soon.”

Stuart nods, that ridiculous smile shining bright again. His comb-over doesn’t so much as bounce when he turns on his heel and marches to the passenger side of his sedan.

It’s not until he’s all but disappeared in a cloud of dust that Kasey speaks again. “Fucking hell.”

He’s turning the card over in his hands. “What is it?”

“He’s a fucking lawyer.”

* * *

Hankand his usual collection of farriers-in-training arrive not long after our unwelcome visitor, forcing Kasey and I to set aside whatever the hell just happened. Wells, who’d spent the morning mucking through the second barn, pulls out the large stereo we keep shelved in the office and sets it up on the back of an unused trailer bed, plugging it in with an extension cord that winds along the ground from the open office door.

It’s tradition on the ranch to have a little fun on farrier days, cranking old ’90s country music as we all work together to get as many horses as we can in front of Hank and his team by the day’s end. The music and casualness of what could easily become a stressful process seems to settle many of the horses, and as many of them as there are—and as few of us—it doesn’t matter if fun is the last thing any of us feel like having. We owe it to the horses to keep things light today.

Kasey and I help Hank and the others set up the portable forge and anvil outside the first barn, careful to keep both far enough away from the hoof stand so we don’t spook the horses. Most of them are back in their stalls, but we kept the first few in line for new shoes in the nearby corral for easy access. I push through the gate and hook a lead rope to Pistol’s bridle, gently leading the huge paint horse out where Hank waits.

I catch a glimpse of Mom trailing a sullen Brooks out of the main house in the distance. She throws us a small wave before following him to his truck so they can no doubt head back to the hospital. Brooks doesn’t so much as glance our way. Minutes after, Layla appears on the porch surrounded by the boys. Liam beelines it down the steps with excitement splashed across his face. Noah follows, forever shadowing his big brother, especially around the ranch. Where Rooster goes, Bruiser follows.

James is the only one who hangs back with Layla, his small hand wrapped firmly in hers. My chest tightens at the way his little brow furrows as he takes in all the extra people around, no doubt nervous from the commotion. He’s had the hardest time being away from his mom. There’s a level of uncertainty wrapped around Brooks’s family, and I know the pressure of it increases with every day that Melody isn’t home and healthy.

Liam and Noah eye Pistol curiously as they approach. “Is that a new one?” Liam asks, eyes tracing along the horse’s muscled hind.

I shake my head. “Nah. He’s been here almost two months.”

“Are we riding today?” Noah asks, a hopeful gleam in his eye.

I smile, shaking my head again. “Not today, Bruiser.”

“It’s farrier day,” Liam tells him, glancing toward Hank.

“You boys gonna help or what?” I ask.

“Yes!” Noah shouts, pumping his arm toward his hip.

I laugh and look around, spotting Wells heading into the barn to ready the next wave of horses. “Why don’t you go find Uncle Wells in the barn, yeah? You can help with halters.”

Noah nods and takes off like a rocket, but Liam hangs back with a determined expression. “I’m not a kid anymore, Uncle Rhett. I can do more than hunt for halters.”

My smile slips, and I look him up and down. To be fair, the kid is almost twelve years old. My brothers and I were already learning to ride the wild ones at his age. But I know Melody would never forgive us if one of her boys got hurt—especially without their dad here to keep a close eye on them.

Still, they’ve been through their share of shit lately, and there’s plenty of us around to watch them. Liam deserves this. “All right.” I nod. “You listen to me real good then. These horses arenotplayful. Most of them want to be anywhere else but here because they don’t know how good it is here. Not yet, anyway. When you lead them, you have to be confident. You can’t be scared or show them weakness or they’ll see it as their chance to hightail it. And Rooster, if I have to chase one of these horses down because you let him go, I’m gonna be real pissed. Do you understand?”

His eyes flare wide, but he does his best to keep his expression schooled. The boy’s tough—I’ve gotta give him that. “Yes, sir,” he says with a nod.

“All right. Why don’t you walk Pistol here over to Hank, and I’ll get the next one ready.”

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