Page 96 of Knox
Reuben laughed. “If I remember right, you rode that thing for…almost eight seconds.”
“Six point four.”
“You had the makings, bro…” Reuben shook his head.
“You rode it all eight that day,” Knox said quietly, glancing at him. “And Dad’s comment as I got off the ground—he’d come running down the dirt to get me—was, ‘Keep it up, and someday you’ll be just like Reuben.’”
Reuben went quiet beside him.
“He let you drive the truck home that night,” Knox said.
Reuben nodded. “I had just turned twelve.”
“I wanted it.” Knox looked at him. “To be like you. To be you. You were larger than life, bro. And then…then suddenly I wasyou. I was taking Chelsea to the prom and driving the truck and Dad was teaching me to fly and…” He shook his head. “Maybe it did all belong to you.”
Reuben drew a breath. “No. It belongs to all of us. But Dad chose rightly when he asked you to take over.”
“Actually, he didn’t. I was just the only one who showed up. I made him a promise to take care of the place.”
“I’m back, with my own promises, Knox. Because you don’t have to do it alone. Not anymore. Let me help. Teach me what I don’t know, and maybe someday this will be the Marshall Triple M again.”
Knox looked at him. “Oh no, I’m not letting Tate run the place.”
“Hey!”
The voice shot out of the darkness behind him. “What are you talking about? I’m a great rancher.”
Knox turned and wasn’t really surprised to see Tate and the entire posse behind him. Gilly walked over to Reuben, a grin on her face. Wyatt looped his arm around Ruby Jane’s neck.
“You can barely stay on a horse, Tate, let alone rope a steer.”
“That’s not true. I just…okay, so I won’t be the third M. Maybe Wyatt—”
“Not me.” Wyatt held up his hands. “I’m buying a condo in Big Sky.”
Tate came up to Knox. Grabbed him by the shirt. “But, if you need us, we’re here. You don’t have to carry it all on your shoulders, right?”
Knox nodded, the fist in his chest releasing a little.
Tate’s smile faded, and he looked over Knox’s shoulder, released his shirt. “What the—”
Knox turned, and his gut hollowed out.
“Is that—” Wyatt started, but Knox had already turned, started for his truck.
“Get in the truck!” Reuben shouted. “The barn is on fire!”
11
Not Gordo, please not Gordo.
The fire had reached the top of the southeastern corner of the barn by the time Knox pulled up the drive. Sparks bit into the night sky, the smell of cinder and ash and burning hay and wood saturating the air.
The rest of the Marshalls piled out of the bed of his truck—more out of Reuben’s as he too pulled up.
Knox had already grabbed the hose that ran into the giant water trough for Gordo’s pen. He shoved it into Tate’s hands just as Wyatt ran to turn it on.
Reuben and Gilly were shouting directions even as Reuben headed inside.