Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141556 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
My great-grandfather staked his claim with a rifle in one hand and gold in the other. My grandfather expanded it through marriages and mortgages that bent half the county to his will and my father turned it into an empire.
Someday, it will all be mine.
The weight of that legacy sits heavy as I guide Storm along the fence line, checking for breaks that will need mending later. Ranch work is never done, even for the oldest Bishop son.
Especially for the oldest Bishop son.
My father believes in the dignity of labor, in knowing every inch of what you own. It might be the one and only thing we agree on. Satisfied, I circle back toward the main house, crossing paths with a couple of the ranch hands.
They nod respectfully as I pass, none quite meeting my eye.
They know who I am. What I am.
The shadow of my father.
We all know it isn’t just my name that terrifies them. It’s what I do for him. It’s knowing that when you cross our family my eyes are the last you see before it’s over.
I dismount at the stables, handing Storm off to Miguel, the stable master who’s worked for us longer than I’ve been alive. He takes the reins without comment, though his dark eyes linger on my face a moment too long.
Can he see my betrayal written there?
No, of course not, my conscience is making me feel guilty. Reminding me of what I’ve done. I move on knowing if I keep my father waiting things will only get worse. Patience isn’t something God blessed him with. The main house stands like a fortress at the center of Bishop Ranch—three stories of timber and stone built by my great-grandfather.
Every son since has added to it, expanding the legacy, ensuring that the house, like the family, dominates the landscape. Is this what I really want for myself? I guess I’ve never thought of there being another option, anything beyond Black Hollow Creek.
I walk up the driveway, past my father’s black Escalade, noticing the mud splattered along its sides. Was he out last night? Where did he go?
I can only assume he went out to double-check the job, probably because Wayne ran straight to his office and spilled his guts out. I made myself look guilty by going straight home and to bed instead of checking in with him. Protocol said I needed to check in but I had to put some time between what happened and stashing Saint away.
Now I’ll suffer the consequences.
The front door opens before I reach it.
My mother greets me, her slender frame dwarfed by the massive oak door. Once upon a time, Elena Bishop was considered the most beautiful woman in three counties. Thirty years of marriage to my father has worn her down to something fragile and watchful. Not that she’s been much of a mother all these years. She’s witnessed countless “lessons” at Roman’s hands and did nothing but stand by and watch.
Trapped inside her own trauma.
Like a bird that’s been caged too long.
“Calder.” She doesn’t quite meet my eyes. Never does anymore. “It’s good to see you. Your father is waiting in his office.”
“Morning, Mom. It’s good to see you too.” I bend to kiss her cheek, feeling the slight flinch she can’t quite suppress. It’s all a matter of form now.
I love my mother, and I want to help her, but sometimes I don’t think she wants to be helped. Even if there was a way for her to escape my father, I don’t think she would go. Her maternal instinct is too strong. As long as we’re a part of this world, she will be too, and I hate that for her. She’s played her role, providing my father with the heirs he required. I know it’s difficult for her to see what we’ve turned into under our father’s influence.
What I’ve turned into, especially.
Stepping back, she gestures for me to come in. “Just warning you, your father is in another one of his moods. He thinks you betrayed the family name and he’s been ranting and raving about it all night.”
I suppress the desire to roll my eyes and step inside the house. She closes the door behind me. “No surprise there. I’m sure Wayne was here last night, word vomiting everywhere.”
“He was, and your father was soaking up every single word. I didn’t pay him much attention, since I know you’d never turn your back on us. Your father, on the other hand, is losing his mind. The constant paranoia has him thinking everyone is an enemy.”
“Believe me. I know.” I give her a soft smile. “If anyone is capable of talking him off the ledge, it’s me.”
“I know.” She whispers, and gives me a side hug.
We part ways and I continue in the direction of my father’s office. It occupies the entire west wing of the ground floor, a space designed to intimidate and impress in equal measure. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the ranch, reinforcing the message that everything as far as the eye can see belongs to Roman Bishop.