Page 24 of Knocked up By the Mountain Man

He scoffs, the sound a mixture of derision and sadness. “Change, huh? You think this place can survive by being soft? By letting people walk all over you?”

I kneel beside him, meeting his eyes levelly. “It’s not about being soft. It’s about being smart. Building alliances, earning trust. Fear might keep people in line, but respect, real respect, will make them follow you willingly. And isn’t that what we want? A loyal team, not a scared one?”

He doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze drifts back to the window, to the vast expanse of land that has defined our lives. For a moment, the only sound is the creaking of his old chair and the distant lowing of cattle.

“You always were a dreamer,” he finally murmurs, his tone softer, almost wistful. “Maybe I pushed you too hard, tried to mold you too much in my image.”

I swallow hard, the unexpected tenderness in his voice cutting deeper than his harshest criticisms. “I want to make you proud, Dad, but I have to do it my way. I have to be true to myself. Now, I really do have to get going or I’ll be late for this trip.”

As I turn to leave my father’s room, his voice, gruff and unyielding, stops me in my tracks.

“Why is another Ryder kid on my ranch?” The question hangs in the air, heavy with disdain. I clench my jaw, feeling the familiar churn of disgust. It’s not just that he doesn’t like them; he doesn’t knows them… only their uncle. “I’ve seen her, walking around like she owns the place. Just like her low life brother andher piece of shit uncle. You aren’t doing a good job of hiding her.”

“Dad, Clara and Wyatt aren’t likehim. I don’t need to hide her because she’s the vet specialist, helping with the horses.”

His glare intensifies, cutting through the dim light of the room. “A Ryder can’t help with anything. You’ve seen that with Wyatt. They’re both like their uncle.”

I just about resist the urge to roll my eyes. “No, you’re wrong…”

“And how would you know that, Beau? The whole family’s trouble. That uncle of theirs, he’s a Goddamn disgrace. The embarrassment of Silver Ridge.”

I take a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. “That uncle isn’t here. He’s not Wyatt, and he sure as hell isn’t Clara.”

Dad scoffs, a sound that echoes with years of hardened judgment. “Doesn’t change the blood running through their veins. You know what he’s like. Losing his house was just the start. He’s been leeching off women ever since, bouncing from one to another in this town and the next. No one even knows where the bastard is now, but we can be sure that he’s drunk as a skunk and taking advantage of someone.”

His words claw at me, each syllable dripping with scorn. It’s true, the uncle is a well known drunk, a parasite who has worn out his welcome in more places than I can count. But that doesn’t define Wyatt or Clara. Just because they were raised by him after their parents died, doesn’t make them anything like that. Why is my father being so closed minded?

“Dad,” I say, struggling to keep my voice steady, “Wyatt doesn’t even talk about him. Clara probably doesn’t either. They’re different.”

He snorts, a sound of pure disbelief. “Different? They’re Ryders. That’s all that matters. The dad was a drunk as well. That’s what killed him.”

“Depression killed him. After he lost his wife.”

Dad sneers. “Depression is just an excuse to be lazy.”

Anger flares in my chest, but I force it down. I can’t lose my temper now. Not here. Not with him.

“Depression is real,” I say, my voice tight. “It took their father from them. And it’s not fair to judge Wyatt and Clara for things they had no control over.”

My father’s gaze hardens. “Life isn’t fair, Beau. Never has been. You can try to see the best in people, but out there, on the ranch, you can’t afford to be naive.”

I grit my teeth, he’s not entirely wrong. The world is harsh, especially out here. But there has to be more than just harshness. There has to be room for understanding, for compassion.

“Maybe so,” I say quietly. “But I don’t want to judge them. Not Wyatt, not Clara.”

He sighs, the sound heavy with years of disappointment and weariness. “You’ll learn, Beau. One way or another, you’ll learn.”

I leave his room, the tension still coiled tightly in my chest. The conversation leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, a reminder of the gulf between us. My father’s world is one of black and white, strength and weakness.

But I refuse to believe it’s that simple.

11

CLARA

“We’re going inyourcar?” The question hangs in the air as I stare at Beau in the sharp, bright morning light. “I can go in mine...”

I think about the luxury of traveling in my own lovely vehicle. Driving behind Beau, with my own music blaring, not having to worry about making small talk with someone I can’t get along with. But I can already tell from the way Beau tightens his face that isn’t going to happen. I don’t stand a chance.

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