Wild Country – The Kershaw–McCoy Line

Title image: Beau Wyatt Kershaw on "Wildfire"

Where a Man Comes From

Ya know, I’m jus’ gonna put this out there: nothin’—and I mean nothin’—can ever prepare a man to be a father.

Back when I was a boy, bouncin’ ‘round foster homes like a loose bolt in a pickup bed, I used to dream ‘bout havin’ a family of my own. A whole mess of kids. I’d give ’em heaven on earth, all the love I never got, always be present for them whenever they needed and wanted me to be and even when they didn’t, they’d always have full bellies, warm beds, and I’d teach ’em every damn thing I knew. Horses, land, weather, fences, storms, all of it. I figured if I did it right, they’d love this place same as I do, and they’d stay close even when life pulled ’em in every direction.

My father—once he finally found me and yanked me outta the system—he ain’t never been that kinda dad. He’s a good man, and I love him as much as one straight man can love another, but he wasn’t built for raisin’ kids. Not for lack of tryin’, just lack of know‑how. I think he finally got it right with my younger brother, Cody. That boy grew up happy as a clam in sunshine, but Lord help us, he’s a piece of work now. Spoiled rotten and no grip on reality half the time.

We’re all half‑siblings, scattered like wildflowers in a storm. My mama’s long dead and gone. My half‑sister’s off with her mama, who’s the former queen of Henfordshire, so Cody and I barely know her. And Cody’s mama—Izzy—she’s been around all his life, she’s been the one who finally wrangled my old man into a ring and somehow kept him on the straight and narrow ever since. Cody is the only one who grew up with both parents.

I can’t say much, though. I was damn near an old cowboy myself when I met my Mrs. Right. Amy. She made me a daddy three times over, and she helped me raise my daughter from a woman who should’ve never been a mother in the first place.

My first two — by my first wife, Briar Rose — were twins. Bri and I didn’t split ’cause we didn’t love each other enough. Hell, that was the problem. We loved each other too damn much, burned too hot, and proved twice over that it takes a whole lot more than love and passion to make a marriage hold. And that ain’t even countin’ the dozen times we broke up when we weren’t married.

One of those twins is always with me — my boy, Beau Wyatt, my only son, my oldest. He’ll get this ranch one day, and he’ll run it better than I ever did.

His twin sister, Briony Rose… she married a monarch and lives a world away. Exactly what I never wanted. I hate it more than I got words for. My sweet baby girl, and I barely get to see her anymore. Still makes me madder than a bull with his balls caught in an electric fence.

Savannah’s by a woman who should’ve never been my wife, least of all a mother — and if she were still alive today, she’d be the first to tell ya so. She died before Vannah ever got the chance to know her, after leavin’ me with a newborn and a little boy already hangin’ on my jeans. That was a hard stretch of road.

Now Savannah’s grown into a feisty teen, pretty as a new day, and she’ll stay. I feel that in my bones. She’s a country girl through and through.

Amy and my youngest ones — seven‑year‑old Laney and the little twins, 3-year-old Daisy Leigh and Bonnie Faye — already love this land like it’s stitched into ’em. Far as I can tell, they’ll all stay close to their daddy too.

But my boy… he’s givin’ me grief. Not on purpose. Hell, he can’t help bein’ too much like me.

He dated the same girl all through high school, Cheyenne Graywolf. I saw ’em married already. She’s a twin too, and her daddy’s my best friend, Chayton. He thought the same thing.

Then one day—no fight, no drama—they just weren’t together anymore. Graduated, then done. Chayton and I both stared at the world like it’d gone sideways, but it wasn’t our place, so we let it be.

Since Cody’s twenty‑two years younger than me and only five years older than my boy, those two knuckleheads grew thick as thieves. Every damn weekend they were out at the local waterin’ holes—drinkin’, dancin’, bowlin’, raisin’ hell.

You’d think Beau would meet a nice girl, but he never brought one home. Maybe he had ’em over to his cabin for a night, but never Sunday lunch with the family. Even my daddy Jack started askin’, and he never asks.

Then Cody got serious with Tansy—the mother of his child—who’s said no to more marriage proposals than I can count. Boy still ain’t proven himself. And now they’re pregnant again. Jack and Izzy weren’t thrilled, but one day Cody packed up and moved onto the Wheeler Ranch with her. Still no ring.

Tansy put a stop to his drinkin’ tours with Beau, so Beau stopped too.

I figured he just needed time… ’til I started noticin’ things.

Little things. Harmless things. He’d shave more and wear clean clothes to run some errands. He’d smell like that expensive cologne his sister gave him. He left for a break in a blue shirt and came back in a white one. He’d be late to his chores like he never been.
’Til they weren’t harmless no more.

See, I used to sneak around with his mother Briar Rose back in the day—long before Beau or Briony were even a thought—so I know what secret courtin’ looks like.

And I saw it.

Not at first. But then…

I was ridin’ after a spirited colt that’d busted out my fence, damn fool thing headed straight for a ravine. I roped him just in time, he’s pullin’ and complainin’, and I look over the edge—

And there’s my boy, down there by the water, lookin’ real cozy with a blond girl I swear I’d seen before.

Didn’t place her right away.

Feed Store Fallout

Few days later, I’m in town with my daddy, listenin’ to him mutter ’bout this and that like old cowboys do, and I see her again. Same girl. She gets in line behind us at the feed store. I tip my hat.

“Afternoon, ma’am.”

“Mister Kershaw, junior and senior. How y’all doin’?” she chirps. Local as sweet tea.

Still couldn’t place her.

Not ’til we wheeled our shoppin’ outside and she climbed into a truck with the McCoy Ranch logo on it.

I cursed so loud my daddy dropped a whole box of salt licks.

“The hell’s with ya, boy? Tryin’ to kill me in this heat?” he barks.

“I’ll tell ya what! That lil’ lady? I seen her with Beau down by the river. Real close.”

“’Bout damn time that boy remembers he’s a man. Looked like a nice gal to me. So what’s yer problem?”

“Did ya not see the truck? McCoy logo. That’s gotta be Taylor’s niece. And you remember Taylor. And why this is a problem.”

“Damn right I remember Taylor. Bad news on two legs, just like that entire bunch of them damn McCoys. So that was her brother’s girl? I know the boy — what was his name again — Taylor’s brother – heard his oldest got married to some gal from Strangerville from one of them ranches ya let yer horses stud at. Heard he’s runnin’ the McCoy place now, after their daddy keeled over fixin’ a fence. Heart attack. Man wasn’t even that old. ’Bout your age, maybe a few years older.”

“Yeah. I remember. I went to school with Joshua McCoy, but I didn’t go to the funeral cos any of us bein’ there would just look wrong. Same as I didn’t go to Taylor’s. Them McCoys and us Kershaws ain’t mixed well since… hell, I don’t even know when. Devil himself probably forgot when all that mess started, but it was long before you or me. I don’t think much will change now that Lance McCoy is in charge. From what Beau told me, he’s been a hothead like his daddy was, may he rest in peace. Now what, Pa?”

“I’ll tell ya what. Quit flappin’ yer gums and help me load this damn feed before I’m the next one dyin’ of a heart attack. Then we’re gonna have ourselves a long talk with yer boy. Hope dies last. Ya young’uns are smarter about a lotta things than we old farts were, and the generation after ya is gonna be smarter yet. So maybe that Lance McCoy is too busy keepin’ up with progress to carry them old grudges.”

“Ya know what, Pa? Love yer optimism, but then why would Beau and the girl be sneakin’ around like they are?”

“I don’t know, Jackson. All I know is this: my biggest problem with them McCoys right now — and my grandson datin’ one of ’em — ain’t no old grudge. It’s the fact they all bit the dust so damn young. Taylor went in her forties, her brother in his fifties… his wife long before her time in her thirties … that ain’t no age when you’re runnin’ a ranch. Look at my old butt, well into my retirement age, still out there in that saddle at the crack of dawn helpin’ y’all. I ain’t go time to die now, and I certainly didn’t have the time at their age.”

“Pa, Taylor died in a house fire from faulty wirin’. Annie had cancer, can’t help that, well, maybe if she quit smokin’ so much she could have. And in this heat — and it keeps gettin’ hotter with that global warmin’ — it ain’t no surprise Josh checked out early, as much fried food as he liked to eat and washed it down with a lot of Bourbon. That man’s liver was on death row twenty years ago. Amy’s a great cook, but she makes me eat so damn healthy in between, I ain’t never gonna die, Pa. She fed me seaweed the other day. I just about had a heart attack right there. Come home ridin’ fences to a pile of horse fodder on my plate! Told me she’d save the good food for the weekends with the family.”

Pa snorted. “Well, if Amy’s feedin’ ya rabbit food half the week, maybe you’ll outlive us all. But that don’t change the fact that them McCoys been droppin’ like flies, and I ain’t keen on my grandson gettin’ tangled up in a family with that kinda luck. Us Kershaws have enough problems on any given day, don’t need to borrow their bad luck now too.”

I hefted a sack of feed into the truck bed, dust puffin’ up around my boots. “Pa, luck ain’t inherited. And neither is stupidity. Taylor’s mess was her own doin’. Josh’s heart gave out ’cause he’d’ve deep‑fried his own hat if he could’ve. Ain’t no curse.”

Pa grunted. “Maybe. But I ain’t talkin’ superstition. I’m talkin’ patterns. Ranch life’s hard. Harder now than when I was your age. Heat’s worse. Storms are worse. Droughts are worse. Folks don’t take care of themselves, they go early. And that girl — what’s her name again?”

“Della Rae,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

Pa froze. Turned slow. Stared at me like I’d just confessed to murder.

“So you do know who she is.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t, just didn’t recognize her right ‘way. She and her brother went to school with Beau, Lance was a couple years ahead, Della Rae is a couple years older than Beau but had to repeat twice so she ended up in Beau’s class and Taylor’s kids were in the same class too. I think both of ’em done gone get married by now too.”

“Ya really kept up well with them McCoys.”

I cursed under my breath and grabbed another sack just to have somethin’ to do with my hands. “Pa, I ain’t the one sneakin’ around. Beau is. I just… put two and two together.”

Pa leaned against the tailgate, arms crossed, eyes narrowin’ the way they do when he’s fixin’ to get to the bottom of somethin’. “And what exactly did ya put together, Jackson?”

“That my boy’s seein’ a McCoy. And he’s hidin’ it. Which means he thinks I’ll blow my top. Which means he knows damn well that our two families ain’t on great terms. We have sore history that started generations before us. Not to mention we are also competitors with the horse breedin’ and the competitions. That just ain’t right, recipe for disaster. Add in my situation with Taylor back when … ”

Pa barked a laugh. “Boy, you didn’t just ‘have a situation’ with Taylor. You damn near set off a Hatfield‑and‑McCoy sequel in Chestnut Ridge. Except it’s now the Kershaw and McCoys. And it ain’t ended bloody yet because them McCoys find a million way to kill themselves off before their time.”

I winced. “Ain’t proud of that Taylor thing.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be. Especially since ya knew it would set off Briar Rose, and if she’s angry, yer daughter would side with her. Dumber than callin’ for a dog with no legs, ain’t comin’ anyway.”

We stood there a moment, heat shimmerin’ off the asphalt, cicadas buzzin’ like they were tryin’ to drown out the past.

Pa sighed, softer this time. “Look, Jackson… maybe Lance ain’t like his daddy or granddaddy. Maybe he don’t give two hoots about what happened twenty‑odd years ago. Maybe he’s just tryin’ to keep that ranch runnin’ and start a family of his own right. I don’t think he’d care about whom his sister’s datin’. I betcha he’d be glad to have her off his ranch, one less mouth to feed. Ain’t his wife pregnant?”

“I don’t know Pa. Ya gotta ask Amy, she keeps up with that nonsense, or ask yer wife, Izzy’s same way. If it ain’t nothing, then why’s Beau hidin’ her?”

Pa shrugged. “Maybe she’s hidin’ him. Maybe they’re both scared. Maybe they’re young and stupid and think secrets make things easier. Or maybe they ain’t quite ready to tell yet.”

I rubbed my jaw. “Ain’t never made nothin’ easier.”

“Nope,” Pa agreed. “But it sure makes things interestin’.”

He slapped the side of the truck. “Come on. Let’s get home. You talk to that boy before he digs himself a hole so deep even them horses of his can’t pull him out.”

Sunday Dinner

Ain’t nothin’ louder on God’s green earth than a Sunday dinner at my house. Amy and Izzy were runnin’ the kitchen like they were caterin’ a weddin’, bangin’ pots, clatterin’ pans, shooing each other outta the way while pretendin’ they weren’t. Daisy Leigh and Bonnie Faye were in their high chairs bangin’ spoons like they were tryin’ to summon rain. Savannah was sulkin’ over havin’ to set the table, and Laney was hummin’ some tune she made up, swingin’ her legs under her chair like she had springs in her feet.

Jack and I were talkin’ ranch business with Cody — my half‑brother, who often feels like another son, Lord knows I raised him enough that sometimes I forget the difference. He still helps out at the ranch when he ain’t busy tryin’ to convince Tansy he’s husband material.

The house smelled like roast and biscuits and the kind of family noise that fills a man’s chest whether he wants it to or not.

Then the door opened.

Beau stepped in, hat in hand, cheeks a little too pink for a man who claimed he’d been workin’ horses all afternoon.

Jack didn’t waste a second.

“Why yer late again, boy? Lips got stuck?”

I kicked my daddy under the table. Missed. Got Cody instead.

“OW! Jackson! What the hell!”

“Sorry, kid,” I muttered. “Wrong shin.”

Beau blinked at all of us. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Nothin’,” I said. “Sit down. Food’s ready.”

Amy and Izzy swooped in with plates, servin’ everybody before Beau could ask another damn question. The table filled with clatter and chatter, toddlers squealin’, Savannah sighin’ like she was bein’ tortured, Laney tryin’ to feed Bonnie Faye her peas.

Beau finally relaxed, took a bite of roast—

And I dropped the hammer.

“So, son… how’s Della Rae? And don’t even try denyin’ it — I seen ya down by the riverbank kissin’ that girl.”

Beau froze. Fork slipped right outta his hand and hit the plate with a clang.

“What?”

Savannah’s head snapped up like a fox catchin’ a scent. “Good Lord, Beau’s got a new girlfriend!”

“No, I don’t!”

“Beau‑y and Della‑Rae‑y, sittin’ in a tree, K‑I—”

“LANEY JO!” Amy barked. “Eat your dinner.”

Laney giggled into her cornbread.

Cody leaned forward, grinnin’. “So that’s why you been disappearin’ every weekend.”

“I ain’t disappearin’,” Beau muttered. “I been workin’. Horses don’t train themselves.”

I snorted. “Son, you ain’t worked a horse so hard you come home smellin’ like a damn flower garden.”

Beau’s ears went red. “That was tack‑room soap.”

Jack barked a laugh. “Boy, the tack room ain’t smelled floral since Izzy cleaned it back in ’24.”

Izzy pointed her spoon at him. “And it ain’t smelled and looked nice since because none of you appreciate nice things.”

“Focus,” I said. “Beau. Talk.”

He looked ’round the table like a trapped colt. Even the toddlers had gone quiet, starin’ at him with big curious eyes.

He sighed. “Fine. We… ran into each other.”

Savannah snorted. “Ran into her how? Face first into her lips?”

“Savannah,” Amy warned.

Beau rubbed his neck. “It wasn’t like that. I hadn’t seen her since high school. Six years. She was at the feed store one day, and we got to talkin’. Just catchin’ up. Then we grabbed burgers at Rusty’s. Nothin’ planned.”

“And then?” I asked.

“And then,” Beau said slowly, “we kept runnin’ into each other. At the river. At the co‑op. At the diner. At the damn gas station.”

“Accidental?” Jack asked.

“At first,” Beau admitted. “Then… maybe not so much. Look guys, Dell and I didn’t plan this, but it jus’ felt … right.”

“Oh, my Gawd, y’all! My brother’s in loooove with a McCoy,” Savannah declared like she was announcin’ a tornado warning. “He’s fixin’ to marry her an’ make babies an’ everything. Lord above, this is World War Three waitin’ to happen. Tragic.”

Beau glared at her. “Savannah, I swear— jus’ shut yer piehole!”

“Keep goin’ Beau,” I said. “And Savannah, put some food in yer mouth so it’s too busy to be flappin’ outta place.”

Beau took a breath. “We talked. A lot. She’s easy to talk to. Funny. Smarter than me. Loves horses. Real ones. Not the showy kind.”

“Smarter than ya ain’t much of a credit, kid,” Pa muttered. “I seen yer grades. You barely crawled across that graduation stage.”

Izzy shoved him hard enough to rock him in his chair, shootin’ him a glare sharp as barbed wire.

“What?” Pa grumbled. “Tell me I ain’t right, Iz! That kid had the grades to be a rancher and nothin’ else.”

Izzy ignored him completely and turned back to Beau with a soft smile. “Sounds like a good girl.”

“She is,” Beau said quietly. “Real good.”

Cody leaned in. “And the kiss?”

Beau groaned. “Do I gotta tell this part?”

“Yes,” three generations of Kershaw said at once.

He rubbed his face. “Fine. It was after we checked on a mare that’d gotten tangled in some brush. We walked back to her truck. She thanked me. I said it was nothin’. She said it wasn’t. And then she stepped closer.”

“So she kissed you?” Savannah asked, mouth hangin’ open, leanin’ in like she was fixin’ to watch a whole damn rodeo unfold.

“No,” Beau said. “I kissed her. She looked at me like she wanted me to, and… I just did. And she kissed me back. And that’s when we both knew this was gon’ be … more. I felt it right then and there, clear as day.”

Amy put a hand over her heart. “Dawww! That’s so sweet.”

“It was,” Beau admitted. “Real sweet. She’s a sweet girl alright.”

I leaned forward. “Then why the secrecy?”

Beau’s jaw tightened. “Because Lance would lose his damn mind if he knew. He hates us. Says the Kershaws ruined his family’s life.”

“How the hell did that boy come to that conclusion? We ain’t done nothin’ to them except breed better horses, train ’em better, and ride better in competition. That whole family past and present ain’t got more horse sense than Daisy and Bonnie got right now — and they’re still in diapers.” Jack muttered, like it was just a plain fact of nature.

“Yeah, well,” Beau said, “he’s always been the type to throw a punch first and ask questions never. And Della Rae don’t want a war between the ranches. Neither do I.”

Izzy sighed. “Lance’s a hothead, so he is. Always was.”

“Exactly,” Beau said. “So we kept it quiet. Real quiet.”

Savannah smirked. “Not quiet enough. Daddy found out.”

Beau shot her a look. My fourteen‑year‑old stuck her tongue out at her brother, and my twenty‑four‑year‑old answered in kind. I let out a long, tired breath — raisin’ kids at both ends of the age chart’ll do that to a man.

I cleared my throat. “One more thing, son. You plannin’ on keepin’ this casual? Or is this somethin’ real?”

Beau hesitated.

Then he looked me dead in the eye.

“I’m thinkin’ about askin’ her to move in with me.”

The whole table went silent.

Daisy Leigh dropped her spoon. Bonnie Faye gasped like she understood her brother’s whole relationship mess before she could even reliably string a couple full sentences together. Laney stared at her brother. Cody choked on a biscuit. Savannah’s jaw hit the table. Amy froze mid‑bite, eyes widening before she slid her gaze to me. Izzy grabbed her husband’s beer and took a long pull. Jack blinked once, slow — and I swear you could almost see the thought bubble over his head fillin’ with curse words.

I just stared at my boy.

“Move in?” I repeated.

Beau nodded. “Yeah. I… I love her, Dad. My cabin’s big enough for two. And even a few more, down the line.”

“Now just hold up a damn minute, kid!” I barked. Was my boy really sittin’ at my table talkin’ about playin’ house — babies and all? Lord above. His mother would lose her mind, and I weren’t far behind her.

And right then, I knew dinner was about to get real damn interestin’.

“The hell ya talkin’ ’bout, kid?!” my Pa already ranted. “Yer makin’ less sense than ice skates on a damn goldfish! Can’t tell any of us yer seein’ someone, but ya can have her livin’ with ya?”

Beau sighed.

“I’m gonna ask her to marry me. That’s how. We’re both adults, and her brother can’t say nothin’ about it.”

Cody choked on his last bite. Everyone — probably includin’ himself — had lost count of how many times he’d proposed to Tansy in every which manner imaginable, and she’d shut him down every single time.

Amy sighed.

“Beau, this seems a bit fast. And considerin’ the history here, maybe you wanna give this a little more time?”

“Don’t need no time. Gramps and Pa always said, when ya know, ya know. And I know. So does she. She’ll be the next Mrs. Kershaw.”

Dad and I traded glances across the table.

Unless things had really changed with this generation of McCoys, this wasn’t gonna end in any way but a huge mess. Somethin’ happened between the two ranches long before my time — hell, long before my Pa’s time — and it’d trickled down in different strengths ever since.

No matter how that current head of the McCoy Ranch felt about us Kershaws, I was pretty damn certain my boy marryin’ his sister wasn’t gonna fly well.

And somewhere out there, I just knew a McCoy’s ears were burnin’.

Shotgun Kinda Love

The morning was warm already, sun hittin’ the arena sand like a skillet. Jack leaned on the fence rail, Cody was checkin’ cinches, and Beau was workin’ a young bay in slow circles. Ranchhands moved about, quiet, steady.

Then the ground started rumblin’.

Hoofbeats. Fast.

I turned just in time to see a palomino comin’ in hot, dust flyin’ like a damn sandstorm behind it. Lance McCoy rode that gelding like he meant to tear the whole ranch in half.

He yanked the reins and the horse slid to a stop like a meteor, brakin’ so hard it carved trenches in the dirt. Lance was off before the animal even settled, boots hittin’ ground with murder in ’em.

“BEAU WYATT KERSHAW!”

Beau barely turned before Lance’s fist connected with his jaw. My boy hit the dirt hard.

Cody swore. Jack barked, “Son of a—” and I was already movin’.

Beau came up swingin’, caught Lance in the ribs, and the two of ’em went down in a tangle of fists, boots, and twenty‑odd years of bad blood neither of ’em started but both of ’em sure as hell were carryin’.

Ranchhands rushed in. Cody grabbed Lance. I hauled Beau back by the collar. Jack planted himself between ’em like a wall of old‑cowboy fury.

I rounded on Lance. “You got a lotta damn nerve, boy! Ridin’ onto a man’s land and layin’ hands on his son? You outta your mind?”

Lance shoved Cody off, chest heaving. “Your son’s the one outta his mind thinkin’ he can treat my sister like a two dollar whore!”

Beau wiped blood from his lip, spitting at Lance’s feet. “Don’t you talk about her like that.”

“Oh, I’ll talk about her however I damn well please!” Lance snarled. “You think I don’t see you twistin’ her up with all that sweet‑mouthed bullshit? Tellin’ her forever, tellin’ her you love her, feedin’ her all that goddamn nonsense she’s soft enough to believe. But I ain’t that stupid. I don’t trust ya, Kershaw. You ain’t pullin’ the wool over my eyes — I know what yer up to, and it ain’t nothin’ good.”

“I meant every word I said to her,” Beau shot back, voice steady.

Lance laughed — sharp, bitter. “Yeah? Well looks like ya get yer chance to put yer money where yer mouth is, Beau Wyatt! Don’t matter none whether ya do or don’t, y’all end up doin’ right by her one way or another — and if I gotta get my shotgun and walk ya down the damn aisle myself, I will.”

Jack stiffened. “What the hell ya talkin’ ’bout, McCoy?”

Lance spun, eyes blazing, and spit the words like they burned his tongue.

“I am purdy damn certain yer grandson done gone knocked up my sister, that’s what I’m talkin’ ’bout, Kershaw! She ain’t sayin’ it, but she sure as hell ain’t actin’ right — keeps gettin’ sick, and I was born at night but not last night! I’m a God‑fearin’ man like the next one, but I don’t believe in immaculate conception for my own damn sister. If that girl ain’t pregnant, I’ll eat a damn broomstick!”

And right then, I had no earthly idea if Lance was jumpin’ to conclusions — which he’s done more times than I can count — or if my boy had finally let his horse jump a fence he shouldn’t’ve. And if he had… Lord have mercy, because his momma, my ex, Briar Rose was gonna take me out back and shoot me, then resurrect me just so she could kill me again. She hated the McCoys as much as they hated us Kershaws, but for different reasons. Seein’ our son procreate with one?

That woman would bury me so deep the devil’d have to send a search party.

Lord help us all.