King's Country (Oil Kings #4) - Marie Johnston Page 0,25

in the arrangement.

The campers and the RV were evenly spaced. The rusted-out pickup that Danny had used most of the time was parked parallel with the trailer house. And the tractors and ATV were parked in a neat line next to the garage. Every item was an eyesore, but arranged the squarest way possible.

If I went into the RV, it would be night and day different than the trailer.

“How long have you been living in the cabin?”

She shrugged, still not looking at me but squinting into the distance where the old hunting cabin was nestled between a couple of hills, not far from the quiet oil wells. “I started fixing it up about the same time, but I didn’t start living there until Pop brought home one of his less desirable workers.” She wrinkled her nose. “I think he finally got arrested for not registering as a sex offender.”

“Jesus, Bristol. Did you have a gun?”

“There’s a rifle at the cabin and a shotgun in the RV.” She said it so plainly it was disturbing. Having a rifle or a shotgun available was common sense to a rancher. Coyotes or wolves after our calves. Rabid skunks crop-dusting the house. Badgers that could get us thrown off a horse. But for Bristol, being armed was a part of her personal life. Protection from guys who’d take her land—and her too.

Fucking Danny. But I couldn’t say that. Not after she’d cried her eyes out because she missed her dad. “Wasn’t your dad worried about you?”

She lifted a shoulder. “I was glued to his side. They would’ve had to go through him to get to me. Sometimes I think it was just luck I wasn’t . . .”

Remnants of fear lingered in her expression. How many nights had she stayed awake, afraid for her safety? Worried that she’d end up like Mama, or worse?

“I don’t understand how he could keep doing that to you.” I couldn’t forgive Danny’s responsibility in Mama’s death, and now I could add what he’d done to Bristol.

“It wasn’t all bad. I know what he seemed like to everyone, and yeah, he was difficult for me too. But he used to read me books and he’d do all the voices. The Three Little Pigs was our favorite.” The memory prompted a smile. “And whenever I got off the bus and ran to my room crying, he’d declare it peanut butter and jelly night and we’d eat in front of the TV and watch the news together.”

Her watery gaze traveling over the trailer was a testament to the complexity of her life. A toxic dad she’d loved and grieved for. Today had been hard enough. I’d take care of the rest.

She wasn’t going to like standing out here while I checked over the trailer, so I pointed to her RV. “You wanna take RV duty and I’ll look over the trailer?”

Her green eyes gleamed with understanding. She knew what I was doing and appreciated it. “ ’Kay.”

I steeled my nerves and olfactory senses and went inside.

God, the smell. The aged odor of urine was the most potent. Had Danny been pissing himself when he was asleep—or awake and drunk? The carpet was matted and grungy. No shampooer could save it. The walls had a yellow tinge and fly crap all over it. Same with the windows.

Five years of not having Bristol clean up after him. This was what had happened to Danny.

Sympathy wormed its way into my chest as I tiptoed around piles of clothing that were too far gone for any washing machine. The worst of the garbage was cleaned up and Bristol must’ve been the one to do the dishes, but she’d had a hard time keeping up with her dad’s filth. My guess was that he wouldn’t let her. Pride was all the Cartwrights had.

But damn. To live like this? It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t how someone in their right mind would live. To ignore the smell and the mess and the grit and—I waved off several fruit flies that stirred up from the drain of the sink. Danny Cartwright had been sick. He’d been an alcoholic, but that’d been both a disease and a symptom itself.

I checked under the sink, surprised that it was fairly tidy. But then it wasn’t like the trailer had a lot of cleaning products crowding its cupboards.

I passed the laundry nook on the way to the bathroom. There was enough space cleared on top of the dryer for the soap and fabric