King's Treasure (Oil Kings Book 3) by Marie Johnston (spanish books to read txt) 📕

I stared at the monstrosity with jacked wheels and a row of extra lights with KC printed on each bulb. “Who’d want to drive that?”

He shot me a lopsided grin. “A teenage cowboy. Beck, to be exact. I think Dawson takes it out muddin’ and that’s the real reason he won’t get rid of it, but I guess Eva’s forbidden him from ever selling it.”

Eva was Beck’s wife. From what Shirley had said, I’d meet her soon. Xander helped me crawl up into the monster truck, then jogged around and swung in like he’d done it a million times. He probably had.

He fired up the engine and I jumped. “Good God, is it really that loud?”

He grinned and pulled out. When we hit the highway that ran to town, he floored it and the pipes rumbled, making my bones vibrate. I laughed, horrified and exhilarated. At least the truck wasn’t sitting in a dump somewhere, it was still getting used. That was the only contribution driving it had offered.

The way to his brother’s ranch was interesting—and beautiful. We zoomed past a mix of brownish-green pastures dotted with cattle and fields full of dried golden something.

“Corn,” Xander answered when I asked. “Some sunflowers.” He rambled on about whether the fields might be for a rancher’s personal use or to sell on the market. I got a quick education in all things farming and ranching but it hardly skimmed the surface.

I recalled the article he’d been writing and the pictures he’d taken. “How’s that similar to the Philippines?”

“Corn’s a staple crop there too, but sunflowers aren’t the crop there like they are here.” He explained more differences and similarities as he pulled into a long drive. At the end was an impressive log cabin. A better description might be mansion. The place was huge with picture windows, a peaked roof, and a porch meant for long nights watching the sunset and drinking lemonade.

A large barn and at least two shops were spread out on the property and surrounded by fences. Cattle grazed in a few pastures and horses in another.

“Wow. This place is huge.” Washington, DC was big. It had huge buildings and large houses. But the sheer amount of land around this one ranch . . . The buildings next to the house were as big as grocery stores. Somehow, at the same time, it had a coziness I hadn’t been expecting. This place was a home.

“It’s where I grew up.”

I could picture a young Xander careening through the lawn and toward the barn, his little cowboy boots kicking up dirt. What would it have been like? This was why I was so into the environment. I’d been so distanced from it, living in the middle of a big city, surrounded by more big cities. Any time we got past the city limits had felt precious. I swore the spaces were getting gobbled up faster than I could blink. What was once a field Pearl and I had flown kites in was now a superstore. A development had gone into the area that Em had used to run cross-country. I’d become passionate, driven—and more city bound.

Kosovo had been a revelation about what I was physically capable of. Montana was enlightening too. I loved my home, but it wasn’t my future. I wasn’t sure what that was yet, but it wasn’t living off my parents or making my home in a place surrounded by concrete.

The house was a testament to modernity, but the land embraced it. They supported each other. The people who lived and worked here did it for themselves, but also for the animals, and the land.

I’d expected a giant feed lot with cattle packed side by side. Instead, black cows, some white, dotted the pastures that stretched for miles. “Talk about grass-fed beef.”

Xander saw me eying the grazing cattle. “We supplement too. It’s hard not to with the size Dawson has, but yeah, it’s pretty damn close to free-range, organic, grass-fed meat.” He lifted a shoulder. “Plus Dawson wouldn’t feed his animals garbage. It might not be organic, but it’s well researched and good for them. The reality behind the beef industry sucks, but Dawson’s managing despite it all. A lot of ranchers are.”

Some of my classmates had been gunning for the beef industry, but I hadn’t been as interested in that as energy. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Was this the equivalent of writer’s block? Did he have photography block? He hadn’t elaborated on our late-night discussion of what he’d like to do with his money—with his life. “I’d love to learn more about it. All I’ve heard is the bad.”

“Sure. Dawson would be happy to talk about it.” He parked and slid out. I stared at him for a moment before I got out after him. I wanted him to tell me. Yet I couldn’t explain why it was so important that he didn’t shrug that off too.

A man as tall as Xander swaggered out of the barn. Cats scattered as soon as he cleared the doorframe, like they were ashamed at having been caught existing near humans. He wore a cowboy hat and a joyful grin. The man that must be Dawson clapped his work gloves together before he gave us a full-armed wave.

“Do I finally get to meet the missus?” He jogged toward us, his gait easy with those long legs.

Xander shoved his hands into his pockets and grinned. “I promised her that you were only an asshole on the weekends.”

“And it’s Tuesday. We’re in luck.” His brown eyes sparkled as he removed a glove and stuck his hand out. “I was just playing with some barn cats, so I recommend you wash your hand after you shake mine.”

“Okay?” I laughed as he pumped my hand.

“Nice to meet you, Savvy. Or is it Sapphire for those not married to you?” The guy was a flirt, that was obvious, but I felt nothing but brotherly love. He didn’t give me