so easily erased.
His father was waiting as Matt exited his truck, felt cowboy hat perched upon his graying head, hands buried in the pockets of his Carhartt coveralls. “Wondered if you’d be working today.”
“I am. So whatcha got?” Because the sooner he could get away from here, the better off he’d be.
“A decapitated mule deer.” The old man poked a thumb over his shoulder toward the pasture. “Near Smugglers Bend.”
Matt knew the area well as he used to hunt there all the time. There wasn’t an inch on the ranch that he and his brothers hadn’t explored at some point in their young lives. “I’ll drive over there and walk in from the road.”
His father’s gaze narrowed. “He’s tucked in amongst the brush. Might have a hard time findin’ him, so I’d best take you.”
The dread Matt had felt earlier amplified. Did Dad think he was incapable of finding it? Or that he needed a chaperone to make sure he got things right?
Whatever the case, the old man remained quiet during the ride out there on one of the utility vehicles they used to get around the ranch. Despite an abundance of sunshine, the bitter cold air stung Matt’s face as they thudded over the now-dormant rangeland, carving a path around cattle and the occasional tree.
A short time later, his father brought the vehicle to a halt beside a small wooded area. Scruffy conifers and barren deciduous trees blanketed with underbrush. A hiding place for wildlife. “He was a big fella.” Dad stepped off the vehicle and led Matt several feet into the thicket.
Matt eyed the once-majestic buck. “Yes, sir. But then, poachers don’t make a habit of going after the little guys.” He surveyed the overgrowth around the animal. “How’d you find him?”
“Neighbor called and said I had cows on the road. When I went to get ’em, I discovered somebody had cut the fence.” Dad glanced some hundred yards in the distance. “Wasn’t long after that I saw the blood trail.” He looked down at the dead animal. “Looks like a clean shot, though.” He pointed to the entry wound behind the animal’s left shoulder. “Fella never knew what hit him.”
“I’m guessing they shot from the road.” Matt dared a look at his dad. “Then walked in to claim their trophy.”
Dad shook his head. “Them poachers are the ones that ought to be shot.”
Matt took some photos and jotted down a few notes before following the trail to the road and doing more of the same. “Unfortunately, this isn’t the first incident we’ve seen,” he told his father when he returned. “I’ll hand this information over to investigators, though with little to go on, catching anyone isn’t likely.”
They again climbed on the UTV and started back to the ranch house in silence. Matt took the opportunity to survey the land he loved so much. He gazed at the river as they passed, wishing he could spend more time there. How he used to enjoy walking the property, communing with nature, hunting, fishing... Except now he felt like an outsider. Unwelcome in his own home.
“Well, I suppose you need to get on, don’t you?” His father stopped the vehicle in front of the house. “Probably have reports and such to take care of, huh?”
If Matt were anyone else, Dad would have offered him a cup of coffee. But he wasn’t anyone else. No matter what he did, he was a disappointment to his father. The son who was arrested for underage drinking, then let his parents down by joining the navy without ever consulting them.
“Yes, sir.”
The old man followed him to his Tahoe. “I’ve been hearing rumors that you’re directing your mama’s play.”
Matt’s entire body tensed. “Yes.”
Hands shoved in his pockets, the old man rocked back on the heels of his worn work boots. “I gotta say, I’m kinda curious as to why you decided to do that.”
Turning, he looked at his father. “They were talking about canceling the play and I couldn’t let Mama’s legacy die.”
“I can appreciate that.” Dad nodded, his lips drawn into a thin line. “But don’t you think it would have been better to leave it in the hands of someone who knew what they were doing?”
Matt’s blood boiled. The old man would never cut him any slack. “Why? Because you think I’ll screw that up, too?”
When his father didn’t respond, Matt turned on his own booted heel. “I’m out of here.” He threw himself into his vehicle, fired up the engine and exited the ranch at a much faster pace than he’d arrived.
As far as Clint Stephens was concerned, his middle son had no redeeming qualities. Just wait until he found out about Kenzie. The fact that Matt had fathered a child out of wedlock would only amplify the old man’s belief that Matt was nothing but a failure, unworthy of his father’s love. And as much as it killed Matt to admit it, even to himself, that’s the one thing he desperately wanted.
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