The World We Live In | 𝚃. 𝙾𝚃𝚃𝙾 ♤

Chapter 27

Cristine quietly put on her boots with a pounding heart. "Just go in, tell him, and go back," she thought while tying her laces before her eyes fell on the bundled sight of the sleeping Troy. Cristine's jaw feathered from grinding her teeth together. Things between her and Troy were awkward, and they barely spoke for the night.

No more of that. Cristine wouldn't ruin her relationship because of some old man she barely liked. The only ones she felt terrible for were Troy and Jake. With one final glance over her shoulder, Cristine snuck out. She closed the cabin door softly behind her, her steps silent on the dirt path.

The cabin Cristine left behind was not as quiet as it seemed. Just as she disappeared into the darkness, a rustling sound came from within. The bundle of blankets on the floor shifted, and Troy's eyes fluttered open. He had been feigning sleep and slowly sat up from his cot. He ran a hand through his tousled hair as he released a heavy sigh. Troy's gaze lingered on the closed door. Cristine was wrestling with something, something she was keeping from him.

-

Cristine arrived at the Big House, and just as she was about to knock on the door, it swung open and revealed her father. "Daddy?" Cristine asked, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"Is everything alright, Birdie?" James responded, clearly in a bad mood.

Cristine noticed the bruise on his lip and immediately questioned him about it. "What the hell happened?"

Before James could answer, rattling and cursing came from inside the house. A red-faced Jeremiah appeared, clutching a bottle and nursing a broken nose.

James sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Jeremiah and I have a disagreement," he said resignedly, avoiding Cristine's gaze.

Cristine crossed her arms, anger etching lines on her forehead. "That's not a disagreement. That's a full-on brawl. What are you two, children?"

"You know what your daddy came to do?" Jeremiah suddenly interjected from inside his house. "He's making demands on my land. He thinks I can't lead and those boys acting as men will do better. It's a damn coup!"

"Sleep it off, Jeremiah! This ain't the time," James bit back, his face contorted with anger and shadows from the dim lighting, making him appear even more menacing.

Jeremiah ignored his long-time friend, took a defiant gulp from the bottle, and smacked his lips. He wiped the corner of his mouth and waved the bottle at Cristine. "Does your girl even know half the horrors you've committed?" Jeremiah looked at Cristine, his dark eyes probing. "I'm not talking about after, but before. Your pa was something else back in the day. The worst of us all until he saw the light." Jeremiah's mouth curled into a cruel smile. "Until he fell in love. I never thought he had it in him. It confused me since the lucky woman wasn't wife number two." Jeremiah grinned at James's narrowing eyes. "Then came the day you stepped foot on my Ranch, and it all made sense. It was your mama that changed him."

James roared, his face turning crimson with rage. "You don't speak of her!"

"I'll speak about whatever I damn want!" Jeremiah yelled back. "Don't mistake your place. I won't be told what I should do on my land. I don't owe you a damn thing."

James's voice dripped with contempt. "You owe me for taking the reins when Walker came, Otto. While you were three sheets to the wind, others fought for your land. Your sons and strangers had to take charge when you didn't." James swiveled on his feet and faced Jeremiah; every muscle in his body tensed with anger. He stepped forward.

"You owe me for when I helped you, your wife, and two little boys when the Indians came." James licked his lips, and his mouth kept moving as he listed everything he had done. "You owe me for helping you bury Walker's father after you shot him straight in the head when that man ain't do nothing but ask about the brother we murdered."