Page 24 of Belong With Me

“Listen, brother, I know you’re out of practice, so let me impart some wisdom on you.”

I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling this time. “This ought to be good,’’ I muttered under my breath.

“Just so we’re clear, I’m talking about her underwear. If it matches, then no matter how smooth you think you are, you didn’t make the first move.”

“What on earth are you trying to say?” Frustration and curiosity battled it out within me.

“If she’d put on matching underwear, nice ones at that, she was already planning on how she would look when the rest of her clothes came off.”

Beside me, Wyatt pointed at him. “He’s got a point, Ry.”

“How did we even get on to this topic?” I wondered aloud.

“You gave her your shirt because you could see her bra,” Wyatt mentioned.

“It’s not like that,” I said again. “She was on her hands and knees in the dirt; one of the dogs had torn her shirt. I wasn’t just going to let her stand there like that. She looked uncomfortable.”

“Either way, I’m proud of you for helping her out.” Wyatt’s hand clapped me on the shoulder. “Momma and Dad would be proud of you too.”

The mention of our parents was sobering; they had been gone a good long while now. The pain never completely disappeared, it just lessened with time. “Yeah, but I bet they wouldn’t be so proud of how we’re doing at the moment.” I gestured at the fence. “This place has seen better days.”

“So, we’ve had a few bad years,” Colton said. “It happens. Plus, I hear there’s a pretty big kitty on the rodeo circuit this year.” Reaching down, he stroked Diablo on his lower neck.

Lately, Van, Colton, and I had taken to competing in the rodeo for a little bit of extra cash. It didn’t really help much, though. Especially when the local meets throughout the year only offered a couple of hundred dollars as the prize.

“What kind of kitty are we talking about?” Wyatt asked, his eyes fixed on our brother.

Sitting taller, Colton’s face morphed into a grin. “Two and a half grand for the rodeo winner, seven hundred dollars for barrel racing and one grand for the roping.”

Doing the math quickly in my head, I whistled through my teeth. “So a little over four grand if we all clean up.”

Savannah had been working on her barrel racing as much as she could, with Colton helping her and her horse, Toffee, go through some extra sessions. We had high hopes for her this year.

I’d been pretty good at roping when I was younger, though I’d stopped because Anna-Beth had said she didn’t like the idea of it or the possibility that I might get injured, as unlikely as it was. I’d only gotten back onto it last year, because Colton had taken a hit from a bull that put him out with a broken wrist.

Wyatt had taken a job at the local middle school. Even Kenzie was working in one of the local bars to try and bring in extra income. Logan had even been throwing some work our way when he could from in town. Including giving Van the odd day here and there at his shop tidying up his books.

If the beef market didn’t pick up soon, we were going to run at a serious loss, if not lose the ranch all together. I knew the others were in this as much as I was, though. It was all or nothing for our family.

It almost made the oil company that was sniffing around town seem appealing. Keyword there was almost.

Even if the payoff in the immediate future helped keep us going for years to come. For five generations, the Larsens had held this ranch. Ensuring we survived and even thrived at times. I wasn’t going to be the one to break that chain.

Perhaps I should contact a lawyer about looking over the letter of offer we’d received from Anderson Oil Co. and see if it was a reasonable offer. See if they could look into them and find out if they were legitimate, or even fair people. Maybe instead of selling the land they could lease it from us for a certain time frame.

Giving that cocky smile of his, Colton tipped his hat. “I’ll be good to go, I’m going to enter.”

“Colton, we can’t have you out of action for any length of time. Currently, the services you offer with horse training make us a good regular income,” Wyatt added.

He glanced at Wyatt, knowing our older brother spoke the truth. “He’s right, we can’t have you getting hurt again. Last time it was lucky it was only a wrist,. What if you hurt your back again like you did six years ago? Or what if it’s your head that gets kicked next time?”

“I’m entering, and neither of you are going to stop me.” His tone was harsher than before. Turning Diablo around, he started trotting away, not waiting for us to respond.

I let out a growl before whistling the dogs back from following him. It only took a few moments before they were bounding toward me and jumping in the tray.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Wyatt sighed, “or pretty damn near close to it one of these days. That last injury was close enough.”

“Maybe then he’d sell Eleanor.”

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