Chapter 5

I leaned forward. Kept my voice low and steady.

"You're wrong," I said. "About all of it."

"Then tell me the truth."

I took a breath. Let it settle in my chest before I spoke.

"You're right about one thing," I said. "My mother's death wasn't an accident."

Grace's pen stopped moving. Her eyes stayed on mine, waiting.

"I was ten years old," I said. "It was summer. Hot. The kind of heat that makes you want to stay inside, but Mom loved to ride in the mornings before it got too bad."

The memory was sharp. Clear as glass.

"She had a mare. Chestnut, with a white blaze. Her name was Ruby. Mom had raised her from a foal."

I looked down at my hands, then back up at Grace.

"That morning, Jolene had come to the house. She wasn't living with us yet. She was just the woman my father was sleeping with."

"She came to tell my mom she was pregnant. To rub it in. Said my father wanted a divorce. That he was going to marry her instead."

Grace was taking notes now, but slowly. Like she wanted to hear every word.

"My mom was devastated. She told Jolene to get out. Said she'd fight the divorce. That she wouldn't let some—" I paused. "She wouldn't let her take everything."

"Jolene left. My mom was crying. Said she needed to clear her head. That she was going for a ride."

My throat felt tight. I pushed through it.

"I went to the barn with her. Helped her tack up Ruby. Mom wasn't paying attention. She was too upset. Too angry."

"And that's when I saw it."

Grace leaned forward. "Saw what?"

"My father. In Ruby's stall. He was bent over the saddle."

I could still see him. The way he'd straightened up when he heard us coming. The way he'd smiled.

"Morning," he'd said. Like nothing was wrong.

"He left the barn before Mom finished saddling up. I watched him go."

Grace's eyes were sharp. "What did he do to the saddle?"

"I didn't know. Not then. I was ten. But I knew something felt wrong."

I swallowed hard.

"Mom got on Ruby. Headed out toward the south pasture. I went back to the house."

The next part was harder to say.

"Twenty minutes later, I heard the screaming. Ruby came back without a rider. She was bleeding. Panicked."

"I ran. Found my mom half a mile out. She was lying on the ground. Her head was—" I stopped. Took a breath. "There was a rock. She'd hit it when she fell."

Grace's face was unreadable. "What happened to the horse?"

"Vet came. Said there was a puncture wound on her back. Right where the saddle sits. Deep. Like something sharp had been under the saddle pad."

I looked at Grace. Made sure she understood.

"A nail," I said. "My father put a nail under the saddle pad. When my mom's weight pressed down, it drove into Ruby's back. The horse panicked. Threw her."

"The vet said it was an accident. That maybe a nail had been left in the saddle blanket by mistake. That these things happen."

My voice went cold.

"I told the police what I saw. That my father had been messing with the saddle. That he'd done something to it."

"They didn't believe me. Said I was in shock. That kids make things up when they're scared."

The anger was back. Hot and sharp.

"Six months later, my father married Jolene. She moved into my mother's house. Slept in my mother's bed. Took over everything."

"And then Colt was born."

Grace was quiet for a moment. Then she asked, "How did things change after that?"

"My father was thrilled," I said. "Finally had the son he'd always wanted. The heir. The one who'd inherit the ranch."

I felt the bitterness rising.

"He taught Colt everything. How to ride. How to rope. How to run the ranch. Told him every single day, 'All of this will be yours someday.'"

"He never said that to me. Not once."

Grace's pen moved across the page. "And Jolene?"

"She hated me," I said simply. "Saw me as competition. Someone who might take resources away from her precious son."

"She'd wake me at dawn to do chores. Mucking stalls. Fixing fences. Hard work. But Colt? He got riding lessons. Got to sleep in."

"At dinner, she'd serve Colt first. The best cuts of meat. The biggest portions. I got whatever was left."

"And when I complained, my father would say, 'Rowan's tough. She can handle it.'"

The words tasted bitter even now.

"So I learned to keep my head down. Do the work. Stay quiet."

"And I learned to wait."

Grace looked up. "Wait for what?"

"For something to change," I said. "For a way out."

"And then, one night, I found it."

And then I discovered the secret that would destroy them all.