Page 82 of Forever Finds Us
“I haven’t changed my mind. It’s just that I have no control over what will happen today or the outcome, and if you haven’t noticed, I kinda need to be in control at all times.”
“Well,” I said, lifting my hands and running my fingers through his still-damp hair, “if things get out of control today, I’ll be there, and I will face it with you. Deal?”
He whispered, “I love you.”
“What would you do if you sold your contract? I mean, would you just shut down Lee Construction?” I asked, trying to distract him as he drove us the few miles left until we arrived at the house Nesty had told us about.
“I would dissolve it, yes.”
“Is that somethin’ you’ve thought about?”
Filtered light broke through the treetops, and it flashed across Brand’s sunglass lenses, like a silent movie played on them.
“No. Not until very recently. But it’s intriguing because lately I’ve been thinkin’ about what my experience in business could do for the cabins and the ranch, for Bax and Rye and the family. So far, I’ve been pretty hands-off, but I don’t have to be.
“Though, I have employees who depend on the income the jobs I provide earn them, and I could never stop bein’ a builder. I love buildin’ shit. So, I guess I’d need to figure out what I’d want to do. Money’s not an issue, so what could I do that would better people’s lives, let me still be a builder, and not take up all my time so that I could help on the ranch?” He slowed the Jeep. “I’ve got some ideas.”
“Is this it?” I asked as we turned onto a gravel drive north of Mad River, twenty miles northeast of where we slept last night.
“We’re about to find out,” Brand said, his voice tight with nerves.
Small, wooden cabins dotted the property between Douglas firs and overgrown bushes, and so many ferns, I couldn’t tell where they ended and the ground began. Clouds had moved in over us, and they made the mood in the Jeep sullen. A nervous and melancholic energy emanated out of Brand in a low pulse.
The whole place reminded me of summer camp from the eighties. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Jason Voorhees ran out of the woods, mask on and machete in hand. Damn my sister, Maureen, for making me watch those stupid movies. Now I’d be looking over my shoulder all day. I should’ve brought my gun.
But when we arrived at the end of the drive in front of a white, rundown farmhouse, a short woman wearing a beekeeper’s hat appeared around the side, and my thought seemed silly. See-through black mesh shaded her face, and she grasped a long pair of white gloves in her hand and a full-length, white beekeeping suit hung from her forearm.
“Can I help you?” she asked as we exited the Jeep, and the sound of her voice, weak and lacking strong breath support, told me she was older.
Brand seemed frozen, as if he didn’t have the words to say the simple thing he needed.
I cleared my throat and grabbed his hand, leading him closer to the woman. “Yes, hello. I’m Roxi, and this is Brand Lee. We’re lookin’ for his brother, Dixon. We were told he might be here?”
The woman was nodding her head before I’d even finished my sentence, and she removed the hat and held it under her arm. “Yes, he’s in the back field with the pups. He’s a good kid. I hope you’re not here to bring him trouble. He’s had enough of that.”
The woman was older, I’d been right, but she had shrewd dark eyes and long, thick, silver hair held back by a raw strip of black leather.
Finally, Brand snapped out of his trance. “No, ma’am,” he said. “We’re not here to cause trouble. I’d just really like to talk to my little brother.”
“You got ID? One can never be too careful,” she said.
Brand pulled his wallet from his back pocket and offered his license to her. She looked it over, glancing back and forth between it and Brand’s handsome face. “I see the resemblance.” She stepped closer, handed the license back, then held out her hand to shake his. “I’m Brenda. Brenda Coulter. My husband isn’t here at the moment, but he’ll be back soon. He just ran into town to run an errand.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking her hand too.
“Would you like a cup of tea? I was just about to make some for myself. It’s a bit chilly today.”
“Sure,” I said, knowing that if I could get her talking, Brand might have a better opportunity for privacy with Dixon. It was a tactic I used all the time on the job. “Thank you.”
“Alright then, follow me up to the house,” she said, but her eyes never left Brand and she didn’t move. Miss Brenda was a wise woman. She read him easily. “I s’pose you’ll be wantin’ to talk to your brother first. Roxi can come with me, but you go on now, straight back behind the house. Keep walkin’ till you get to a fence. Dixon’s back there, workin’ with two of our dogs today. From the minute he showed up here, those damn dogs loved him. He’s real good with ’em.
“But hear me now, young man, I won’t tolerate any fightin’ on my land, and I expect you to mind your manners. Your brother is hurtin’. He’s here tryin’ to find a path through a boatload of grief and to stay clean. Don’t you say anything to him to rattle his cage.”
Brand squeezed my hand in his and nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Brand
