Her soft hands cradled my face. “It sounds so romantic, but I can’t run away.”
I knew then, all was lost. I should have just clambered down the tree and made my escape. But like the fucking dummy I was, I pressed on.
“I thought you loved me. You said you wanted to be together.”
“I do, but I’m going to college in a couple of weeks-”
“You can do that anywhere.”
“Wyatt, I can’t.”
Even now, ten years later, the heartache of that moment lived in my chest. Hurt, pissed, and dejected, I left. Without a last word, I got into my car and drove out of Salvation… What a fucked up name that was… And to the nearest Army recruiting office.
I nudged my horse, moving from a walk to a gallop. I closed my eyes just for a moment to feel the freedom and power that riding brought. I’d missed this too.
Not as much as I missed Sinclair. I was dying to see her and at the same time, nervous about it too. I’d cut all ties… Her, Ryder, my mother…when I left. My mother understood and forgave me. Would Ryder and Sinclair do the same? Would I have a chance to rebuild on what we’d had?
As I turned toward the barn, my life was about as fucked up as it had been then. But my mentor was right. With age comes wisdom. I had skills to fight physically but also mentally, which meant I’d take on Simon Stark. Emotional strength? I guessed that would be tested when I saw Sinclair again.
2
Sinclair
I groaned in frustration as I read yet another letter from Simon Stark in his attempt to buy up property around Salvation. He’d been sending letters to farm owners on the south east side of the town for months now. His goal was to buy up the land for less than it was worth and build a private prison. Farming communities were on the threat of extinction and as deputy mayor, I didn’t want to see Salvation a part of that.
I stood from my desk and walked out into the main office area, where Trina, the mayor’s assistant and my friend, looked up at me and frowned.
“Problem?” she asked.
I held up the letter. “Are you keeping the file on the letters from Stark Associates?”
“Another one?” she asked. “How many is that so far?”
“Half a dozen that we know about. Chances are there are more. At this rate, this prison is going to be larger than the town itself.”
Trina shook her head. “How did this happen?”
“I’m sure Stark and the governor are friends. He probably donated buckets of money to his re-election campaign.”
“What about the board of supervisors? Do you think they’ll pass it?”
“We’re a dying community that needs tax revenue and jobs.” I looked up to Mayor Valentine entering the office. He gestured to the stack of letters. “More Stark letters?”
I nodded.
“What happens if people don’t sell?” Trina asked. “Governor support or not, they can’t build on what they don’t own.”
“Some people are selling. Family farming is dying. They see this as an opportunity for a new start,” Mayor Valentine said. “Once some sell, the others might follow suit because having a prison nearby will devalue their property.”
“As this letter not so kindly states,” I said with a feeling of disgust. “Some of these families have been here for centuries. They built this state. Their farms are their lives. We can’t just sit back and let some city slicker and the governor take away our way of life.”
“Ways of life change, Sinclair,” the mayor said with sympathy in his eyes. Overall, I liked Maurice Valentine. He was young, under forty, so he had progressive ideas. But he was conservative and what my mama would say was practical. He also didn’t seem bothered by my goal of someday running for his position.
“People still have to eat!” I exclaimed.
“Maybe if we convince people not to sell, we can make Stark look elsewhere,” Trina suggested.
“We’d need to make sure the board of supervisors knew that the community supported its farmers over a prison,” I said.