The Outlaw by Jennifer Millikin

8

Wyatt

"Wyatt, answer the door."Dakota's standing at my door, knocking for a second time. "I know you're in there."

"Actually, I'm right here."

Dakota jumps a mile, whipping around to face me with a hand on her chest. "You're such an ass."

"You're the one who was banging on my door."

"I was coming to tell you about the Circle B. Jo needs help."

"I'm aware."

She cocks her head to the side, her eyebrows pulling together. "How do you know that? I literally just came from there."

"A little bird told me." There's no way I'm telling her about the meeting with the sheriff yesterday morning, because that would only lead to more questions. My dad hasn't told anybody, aside from my mother, about my near arrest, or the consequences of it.

Dakota knows there's more to it, but she also knows she won't get anywhere with me if she keeps pushing. "So, I was thinking, you should help Jo get the project started. I didn't tell her because she seemed very overwhelmed, but she's probably bitten off a bit more than she knows how to chew."

"That's not how the saying goes."

"I'm aware, but think about the words. I mean it. She can't chew because she doesn't know how to chew what needs to be chewed."

I shake my head at her. "Let's not say 'chew' for a while."

Dakota laughs and comes down the two steps to where I'm standing. She playfully bats my arm. "Agreed. So will you help her?"

"Why me? You think I have nothing else better to do?"

"No. I think you're smart and strong and really good at helping people."

Her compliment makes me uncomfortable, and I'm not sure what to say next. I'm rescued from having to respond when Wes emerges from the trees that separate my cabin from the homestead, his eyes zeroing in on me and Dakota. "There you are. I've been calling you."

My eyebrows lift as I palm my chest. "Who, me?" Obviously I know he's talking to Dakota, but I can't pass up a chance to give my oldest brother a hard time.

Wes shoots me a derisive look and wraps his arms around his wife. Dakota smiles and tells him her phone is in the truck, along with Colt.

Wes panics. "Colt is in the truck?"

"The truck is on. The windows are halfway down. I am right here. The truck is ten feet away. Everything is fine."

I wonder how many times a day Dakota calms Wes down when it comes to their son. I've seen her do it plenty of times. Wes won't tell any of us, but something happened in Iraq, and I'd bet all the money in my bank account it has to do with a kid. I've never seen him act so hyper.

He allows himself to be calmed down, but he still breaks away to go put his own two eyes on Colt. "Hey Wes," I call after him. "Your wife thinks I'm smart and strong. Sorry about your luck, pal." The only way I know to accept a compliment is to joke about it.

Wes flips me off without looking my way.

"Are you going to help her?" Dakota asks when I turn my attention back to her.

I'll be there no matter what, because I'd like to avoid legal action, but I don't tell Dakota that. What I end up saying is a form of the truth. "I don't think Jo wants me there."

Dakota makes a face. "Why do you think that?"

Because she said it. Out loud, I tell her, "It's just a vibe I've been getting from her for a while. We've always been friendly, but I think I did something to upset her. A bunch of us went to Phoenix about a year and a half ago, and she's been cold-shouldering me ever since."

Dakota squints, and she tents a hand over them to shield them from the late afternoon sun. "Cold shoulder since a trip to Phoenix?"

I shrug. "It's the only thing I can think of."

Dakota nods slowly. "Right. I'd keep going with that. Maybe there's something more to it."

Her voice has a weird lilt, kind of like excitement she's trying to tamp down. I start to ask her, but she interrupts me.

"Oh, sorry, can't talk. Colt needs to eat."

I point at the truck, where Wes sits in the open back seat. "He's not even awake."

Dakota stares at me. "Would you like me to tell you how my body lets me know it's time for Colt to eat?"

I huff a laugh. "Not really."

Dakota goes back to her truck, turning once to remind me that the sooner I can start at the Circle B, the better.

"It needs a new name," I shout after her.

"She knows," Dakota shouts back.

I wave goodbye to my brother and his family and go inside to eat yet another dinner by myself.

I'm workingfrom a list Dakota texted me last night. And I'm still on the first task.

General cleanup.

It's hard to know what's salvageable on the Circle B because everything needs attention. Everywhere I look there's some form of debris. Fallen branches, pine straw, pine cones, trash from parties past, even shit I'm guessing was left by the movie people. Dakota told me someone came to check on the property every so often, and it looks to me they did a half-ass job.

I'm here and ready to work with a giant paper to-go cup of coffee from the diner, an even bigger bottle of water, and at this exact moment I'm pretty damn grateful I thought to grab my work gloves. At this point I have a decent pile going, trying to consolidate as much of the stuff I identify as trash. I'm sure Jo's opinion on what's trash isn't totally the same as mine, but she's not here to direct me, so I'm doing the best I can on my own. I stick my earbuds in and get to work.

It doesn't take long for the sun to burn off the cool midmorning air. Sweat streams down my back, and since nobody is out here except me and the two blue jays I spotted thirty minutes ago, I take off my shirt and tuck it into my back pocket.

The work is hard, honestly a little harder than I'm used to. On my family's ranch I stick to jobs that have to do with horses, and that doesn't include cleaning stalls. That chore goes to the lowest man on the roster, and in the summers we hire a high school kid looking to earn some money.

So this? This is hard work. All because I was going to help Sara and Mickey. In hindsight, I should've walked to their house. Or jogged, actually, to get there in time. I saw Sara in town yesterday after I left Mrs. Calhoun’s. She was carrying groceries, bogged down by how many she was trying to carry at once. I pulled into an open spot and took a few bags off her hands, and her long sleeve rode up just enough that I saw the new bruise on her wrist. My presence could've protected her, that's for damn sure.

I know something more needs to be done, I just don't know what. If I step aside, if I involve the police when I know Sara won't, that'll be it for Mickey. The state can press charges all on their own, they don't even need Sara to do it. If they see evidence of abuse, it's game over. I'd hate to see that happen, but I'm afraid that's the road they're headed down.

Surprisingly, this hard work is good for me. My muscles are screaming, but I like it. I break only to drink from my water. I finished the coffee an hour ago. As much as I'm actually enjoying the labor, I'll have to quit soon. I'm almost out of water.

I'm bending down, trying to pry two old boards apart, when I hear it. A crash, a scream, coming from the trailer three hundred feet away. I run toward it, completely confused, not understanding how such a thing could even happen when I thought it was deserted out here. Jo comes tearing out from the trailer, hair whipping her face.

She runs straight for me, then realizes it's me and skids to a stop. "What are you doing here?" she demands.

"Working. What the fuck happened in there?" I look over her shoulder toward the trailer, but all appears to be in order. No chainsaw-wielding madman chasing after her.

She wipes a hand over her forehead, where tiny beads of sweat have accumulated in her hairline, and ignores my question. "You're working? I haven't even told you what to do."

Wow. Jo really thinks I'm an idiot. Looking around here and figuring out where to start isn't exactly rocket science. Plus, you know, I had a list. "I'm a self-starter."

Jo frowns. Not shocking, considering that seems to be all I make her do.

I drop the act. "Dakota gave me a small list. Asked me if I could help you."

Jo's frown deepens. "So now you're a Good Samaritan? You get to come out of this smelling like roses, acting like you're helping me out of the goodness of your heart, when you're actually avoiding a DUI?"

The muscles in my neck and upper back coil. "You know."

She sighs and stabs dead grass with the toe of her sandal. "Shelby is my roommate."

I scratch an itch on my chest, and it isn't until my fingers meet bare skin that I remember I'm shirtless. I stand up a little taller, knowing it makes my muscles swell. It's not that I'm trying to impress Jo, but I'm not trying to not impress her either. "There's probably something she signed somewhere about not telling people certain aspects of her job."

Jo shrugs. I bet she wouldn't be so cavalier if it was her private business being shared. "It's a small town. Word will get around eventually. It always does, Wyatt."

A small shiver curls around my spine. "You said my name."

"So?"

"It's the first time you've said my name since the sheriff called us in."

"Do you have a point?"

"Maybe you like me after all."

Her chin lifts, eyes blazing. "Don't count on it."

I look back at the trailer. "How long have you been here?"

"A few hours. I've been listening to music and researching. You?"

"Same." I look around. "Where's your car?"

"My boyfriend dropped me off."

I don't like the way she says boyfriend. Like she's pointing it out, or rubbing it in. Like she wants to make sure I know.

It works. A hostile heat spreads through my chest. "Does your boyfriend have a name?"

"You wouldn't know him," she says, but what I really think she means is you aren't the type of person he'd be friends with.

I make a face. "Come off it, Jo. I know everyone."

She folds her arms. "I highly doubt that."

I fold my arms too, ready to retort, but I'm stopped by what Jo's doing. Correct me if I'm wrong, but I think Jo Shelton, good girl extraordinaire, just checked out my bare chest. And my arms.

I'd love to tease her for it, but I know how badly that will go, so I call upon every ounce of willpower and keep my words to myself. I allow myself a smirk though, and I make sure she sees it, because I can't let her get away with it completely. Pink blooms on her cheeks. Good.

She turns around, muttering.

"What was that?" I ask.

"Put a shirt on," she snaps, walking back to the trailer.

I laugh, then remember what started all this. "Why did you scream and run out?"

"Massive spider."

"Do you want me to come kill it?"

"I already did."

"Then why did you run out?"

Her cheeks pink even deeper. "It's what I do when I kill a big bug. It's my, uh…"

Never in my life have I seen Jo fumble for words. She's so confident, so careful, so…contained.

"Just say it," I coax.

"It's my battle cry."

I try not to laugh, but it can't be helped. "Battle cry?"

"It gives me the guts to kill it. Otherwise I can't do it."

"Battle cry…" I contemplate the idea.

"Don't tell anybody I told you that."

I nod. She goes back into the trailer. I resume what I was doing, working until I'm not just out of water, but also parched, because she's still here.

I stop only when a newer model sedan pulls up. A guy steps out, her boyfriend I'm assuming. He's tall, but not as tall as me. He's thin, and nowhere near as muscular as me either. As pissing contests go, I'm winning.

I don't know why I think we need to have a pissing contest. We don't. Jo is his girlfriend, and she hates me only slightly less than she hated me yesterday. I think. Progress.

Jo comes out of the trailer. She greets her boyfriend in a pleasant but subdued way. Probably because I'm nearby.

It would be awkward if I completely ignored them, even though I want to, so I come over and say hello. Jo starts to make introductions, but I cut her off, not to be rude but to prove a point.

"Hi Jared, from the bank." I stick out my hand and give her a pointed look. She narrows her eyes.

Jared grips my hand harder than is necessary. "Hayden, right? Wes, is it? Or Warner?"

Well played, fucker.

I match his grip. "Wyatt, actually."

We let go. He wraps his now free arm around Jo's waist, leaning down and kissing her. At first she's surprised, then a flash of irritation jets across her face.

I want to laugh, but decide not to. I'm on Jo's bad side enough as it is, and it's cold over here.

"Are you ready, baby?"

Jared's sentence earns him another look of irritation from Jo, and I'm guessing it has something to do with that nickname he just used on her.

"Sure, let me just grab one thing I left behind." Jo turns and goes back into the trailer. I don't feel the need to stand here and make painful small talk, so I head back to my empty water bottle. I can hear Jared walking behind me. He stops when I do.

"She's in a relationship, you know."

I drag my hand over my forehead and turn around. "Did something about the way I shook your hand and introduced myself give you the impression I'm after your girlfriend?"

Jared's hands slip into the pockets of his pressed slacks. "No."

"Then what is it about me that's making you stake your claim unnecessarily?"

"I've heard about you. You obviously don't know how to keep your hands off what's not yours."

When I was younger, a comment like that would have ended one way: my fists flying. As I've grown older, I've learned better how to harness my temper. Also, he wouldn't be talking like this if he wasn't threatened by me. That's another lesson I've learned as I've grown older. People often operate out of fear.

I raise my eyebrows. "Guess you know who I am after all."

One corner of his lip turns up. "Stay away from Jo, and I'll make sure she stays away from you."

I laugh. "You're planning on telling her what to do? Here's your chance. She's right there." Jo stands a few feet away, and she's heard every word. I know because I watched her approach.

"Let's go," she announces, whirling around. Jared follows after her, his bravado curiously missing.

I wait for them to leave, toss my empty coffee cup on the huge pile of trash, and head for home.

On my way, I call my mom and ask her if I can have dinner at the homestead with them. She does her best to cover up her surprise, and I do my best not to notice it's there.