Page 20 of Fake It Till You Make It
Gracie Lou called to him from behind the bar where she filled glasses and mugs from the tap. “Eli, I hear you got yourself another fancy city girl. This one with a BMW.”
Like most folks native to these mountains, she elongated the last letter:B-M-dub-be-yay.
“You heard wrong,” he deadpanned, stepping up to the counter. All of five foot three in her signature red cowgirl boots, Gracie Lou Tyler had a skyscraper personality with a barn-red pixie cut visible in dense fog.
“Riiight,” she drawled. “You bringing her to see me and Caleb jump the broom?”
“Nope.” He grabbed the larger of the two from her hand, tipping his mug in thanks.
In Service, a wedding drew more people than a political rally from either party. Everyone pitched in to make the newlyweds’ day memorable. Cara had pooh-poohed the idea, opting for a country club wedding on the military base.
“She’s pretty. Nice, too. One of these other fellas is gonna lift his leg around your doorstep. Remember, snoozers are losers.”
Eli waved a hand acknowledging he’d heard the warning. But Eli didn’t consider Amarie his. With the bar at his back, the chatter increased in volume above the country music spewing from the vintage jukebox in the far corner. The center dance floor was empty for now, but the closer it got to sundown, the more freely the beer flowed and the faster the feet moved. He’d be home by then.
Prudence, the cashier at the General Trading Post and campground rental center, stepped in his path. Eli stopped on a dime, but his beer sloshed over the rim. Sudsy foam from the icy liquid flowed between his fingers to drip onto the floor.
“Dang it.” He frowned, switching the mug to his free hand, rubbing the excess on his jeans, a wearable sponge for on and off the job. Couldn’t say the same for the Army’s service uniform. “Prudence, didn’t see you there.”
“Oh.” She laughed. “It’s alright, Eli,” she said, her usually high-pitched voice soft and scratchy, like she had a case of laryngitis.
“You sound different. Need a drink of water or something?”
“No, silly. I plan to be plenty wet for you ’cause I’m the highest bidder on that there auction page.”
“There isn’t going to be an auction.”
“Don’t play coy, Eli.”
He’d always considered Prudence, with her thin frame and flat chestnut hair, to be a quiet slip of a woman. Her older brother, Dosier, and Eli had been classmates back in the day. But in bad cliché fashion, he’d lost touch when he left for college. Coming home on the holidays didn’t leave much time to kindle relationships from his youth. Eventually, his visits had slowed to a trickle. Cara had shunned small-town living after one visit, so the trickle evaporated to a once-a-day text message to start the day and a Sunday afternoon phone call. Tobias and Noah, especially Noah, had joked about him abandoning them to entertain all the single ladies in town. His parents had kept up pretenses for his sake, but his actions had hurt them all. Guilt still ate at him that he’d allowed a woman to separate him from his family. But he’d still received a hero’s welcome when he had returned with all his belongings in the back of his pickup truck.
“Believe you me, I’m not. Just sorry you wasted your money, Prudence.”
“Oh, don’t be sorry, honey biscuit. Be ready.” She winked and sashayed off like she had actually conducted a reasonable conversation with him. Honey. Biscuit. Eli shuddered at the visual. He needed to talk with his brothers before this foolishness got worse.
“You Calvarys got all the primo land… now you corralling the women.” That comment came from Benjamin Buchanan. He scowled at Eli from his wallflower perch, a dark alcove near the unisex restroom.
“Not true, Bucky. Doing the best I can for my family. Getting a woman on my arm has got nothing to do with it.”
“That picture of you in the paper says different,” he rasped, stepping from the shadows. “And, uh, I don’t like it. Not one bit.”
Long and lanky in faded denims and a white T-shirt sagging with dirt stains, Bucky lived off the grid, preferring well water and kerosene heat to modern amenities. The men in that family courted their firearms more than the ladies. Frequent run-ins with the law for assault, trespassing, and disorderly conduct kept them off the streets most days.
Eli stood his ground. “I said my piece.”
His concave body retreated, but not before his tinny voice reached Eli’s ears. “Folks don’t take too kindly to you uptown types taking our women. But the way I hear it, in thirty days, the Pendletons will own you lock, stock, and waterfront view. I already signed up for the work crew,” he cackled, as if he visualized the bulldozers ripping through Calvary land. “They fixing to build a fancy Landing Falls–style resort where your cabin used to be.”
Eli stiffened. So the Pendletons already had a plan in place if he failed.
“Bucky, don’t count on that paycheck,” Eli gritted out, rattled by the mention of the predatory Pendleton family, more than his frustration at the nagging toothache the auction announcement had caused. “I’m done with this conversation and talk of the Pendletons. You?”
“I’m guessing so… for now,” he added.
“For—” Eli stopped himself from saying more. Wasting his time on a man who saw what he wanted was futile. The Pendletons had been a thorn in his father’s side. With Levi Calvary gone, they had a target on him. Eli walked off, scanning the tables for the Calvary men, more committed than ever to preserving their lands for future generations. The Pendletons’ plan for the resort raised the stakes. The time to tell his brothers the sordid details had arrived.
He found the face he was looking for. Tobias sat alone at one of the square tables farthest from the action. He never understood why his brother limited his contact with people. Underneath all that caution tape was a man of deep principle and thought.
Eli took the chair next to his brother, spinning it backward before taking his seat. “What’s up, brother?”
