Quaid made a phone call on his way to collect their jackets, and the truck was waiting in front of the door when they arrived.

Mavis shook her head and her finger at the same time. “What in the hell are you doin’ here? You’ve got a date.”

“Where are you going?” Quaid asked.

“I’m going to shoot Naomi Gallagher,” Mavis said.

“Then I’m going to keep you out of jail.”

“How can you do that? You aren’t a lawyer. I’d do better with Kinsey.” Mavis buckled the seat belt and crossed her arms over her ample bosom.

“Well, you’ve got me,” Quaid said.

Russell turned to his nephew. “One of the others can go. You’ve got plans.”

“I’m the one who’s here. We need any more help, someone will be there in ten minutes,” Quaid said.

Russell nodded. “Sorry about this, Jill. You’ll have to come back another time. Let’s go see if we can straighten this out. She’s liable to have a stroke and really shoot Naomi if she finds out for sure that she’s behind this.”

“Why would your grandma think the Gallaghers stole her hogs?” Jill asked as she settled into the passenger’s seat and Quaid started the engine.

“It’s a long story. Our families have feuded for more than a hundred years.”

She pretended to not know anything. “Like the Hatfields and McCoys?”

He nodded. “Modern day. So far none of us have murdered each other, but it might be comin’ if Naomi stole Grandma’s pigs.”

“Why would she do that, anyway, if she does turn out to be the thief? And, besides, wasn’t she in church this morning? How could a little old lady do that?”

Quaid’s jaw worked like he was chewing bubble gum. “She wouldn’t, but her family would. This is horrible. We shouldn’t be following Grandma out to Wild Horse Ranch to confront Naomi on our first date.”

First date, hell. It was their last date. She didn’t want to be mixed up in any of this shit. To top it all off, she’d be there with Quaid, with all appearances saying she was supporting the Brennans, and she had a supper date with Tyrell Gallagher. She couldn’t wait to get home and tell Sawyer all about it. Come to think of it, he was at the Gallaghers right now, having dinner with them. Did that mean they were on opposing teams?

They reached the stone entrance into Wild Horse, and a man held up a hand to stop them from crossing the cattle guard. Russell and Quaid both rolled down their driver’s side windows and leaned out.

“Mama has come to talk to Naomi,” Russell shouted.

“Brennans don’t come no closer, and they do not cross onto Wild Horse. Read the sign.” He pointed.

“Trespassers will be prosecuted. Brennans will be shot,” Jill read aloud. “Do they mean it?”

“We’ve got one on our fences, only it says that Gallaghers will be shot,” Quaid said. “We mean it. We assume they do.”

“We just want Naomi to tell Mama that she had nothing to do with her hogs going missing this mornin’,” Russell said.

“Granny is entertaining dinner guests. Y’all go on back home.”

“Did the Gallaghers steal our hogs?” Russell asked.

“You call the sheriff. He can come onto Wild Horse and check every square inch of our property. You won’t find a single hog here. We don’t raise those filthy things, and we damn sure don’t want them on our place. They stink worse than Brennans.”

The passenger side door opened, and Mavis crawled out. She marched right up to the stone entryway, but she didn’t put a foot on the cattle guard. “I know Naomi is behind this, and those hogs were worth enough that this will draw someone some jail time when I find them. You tell her that she’s going to wish she’d never been born.”

“Get on out of here, you crazy old woman,” the man said.

Russell pushed out of the truck and marched right up to the man. “You don’t talk to my mama like that.”

“Well, you don’t accuse my granny of thievery,” the man yelled back in his face.

“You better hope she didn’t instigate this, or she’ll spend the rest of her years behind bars. I don’t give a shit if she’s an old dingbat who steals pigs,” Russell yelled.

The man threw the first punch.

Jill sat there in stunned silence.

Quaid groaned and slung open his door, left it hanging in the cold wind, and ran onto Wild Horse property to separate the two men rolling around on the ground in their Sunday best. The first person he had to get control of was Mavis. She was kicking, hitting, and slapping the Gallagher grandson like a madwoman.

Since she was his date, Jill thought that she really should go help Quaid, but she didn’t want to be accused of fighting for either side. She heard him yell her name, and she bailed out of the truck.

“Sit with Granny in the truck while I get a handle on Daddy. I swear he will be in the hospital with chest pains over this,” Quaid said.

“Damn rotten Gallaghers. Lower than chicken shit. I swear they should be wiped off the face of the earth,” Mavis cussed as she strapped her seat belt. “Dammit to hell!” Mavis hit the dashboard hard enough to wince. “Now I’ll have a bruise on my hand, and that’s her fault too. Next time I see her outside of church, I’m going to scratch her old eyes out and feed them to the coyotes.”

Russell was huffing and puffing when Quaid finally pulled the two men apart and guided his father back to the truck. The grandson had taken his phone from his pocket and was making a call as they drove away.

Jill checked the clock on the dashboard. The whole thing hadn’t lasted fifteen minutes, but when it was going on, it seemed like a month. Maybe she should have kept right on driving to Wyoming or Montana instead of coming to Burnt Boot. There were ranches there that could always use help.

* * *

Betsy sat on one side of Sawyer with one of the Gallagher cousins, Eli, on Sawyer’s other side. Naomi Gallagher, the queen of the Gallagher clan, was on the other side of Betsy. It was easy to see where Betsy got her red hair and her spiciness. When she was seventy years old, she’d probably look and act just like Naomi. It wouldn’t surprise Sawyer if Betsy didn’t grow up to be the next Gallagher matriarch who carried the feud flag for the family.

The salad was crisp. The potato soup scrumptious. The steaks out-of-this-world tender. Then there was dessert, which was turtle cheesecake served with good dark coffee. He’d barely gotten the first bite into his mouth when Betsy’s hand slipped under the floor-length tablecloth and started at his knee and made a slow journey to his thigh.

He cut his eyes over at her to see that she had turned to say something to her grandmother. Evidently she caught him looking at her from her peripheral vision, because she gave his thigh a gentle squeeze and moved on up to start massaging what lay beneath his zipper.

He inhaled deeply, and she patted his thigh before she turned with a smile and whispered, “Just a taste of what is to come later when we take a tour of the ranch.”

The steak didn’t taste nearly as good after that as he tried desperately to think of an excuse to go home early. “Pardon me,” he said. “My phone is buzzing. I’m so sorry. I have the sound turned off, but…”

He removed the phone from his pocket and took a look at it. “I’m sorry, Betsy, but I have to take this. I’ll step outside. Y’all excuse me.”

Putting the phone to his ear, he laid the white linen napkin on the table and nodded a couple of times on his way through the door out onto the patio. “Yes, I’ll be right there,” he said in case anyone was watching and could read lips.

“What is it?” Betsy said so close behind him that he jumped.

“It’s Gladys. She’s gone to the hospital to be with Polly, and there’s a cow down having trouble. I need to go pull a calf. Sorry to cut this short,” he said.

“How’d she know that if she’s at the hospital?” Betsy asked.

“A kid on a four-wheeler called her. Don’t know who it was.”

“Well, darlin’, good things come to those who wait, and you are worth waiting for. Next weekend, we’ll give it another whirl.” Betsy plastered herself to his body, tangled her fist into his hair, and rolled up on her toes to kiss him. He’d never felt less passion, heat, or feeling in a kiss before in his entire life. It was more like his mouth had been attacked than kissed.