Page 6 of A Mile of Ocean (Pelican Pointe #19)

T hat discussion continued well into the night until Trent explained it might be their best option. If the shooter came in from the east, they could station several sharpshooters around the perimeter to stand guard during the evening hours, when the gunman was prone to strike. He didn’t want to mention that knowing when the killer would strike next was anyone’s guess and not accurate at all. Even Brent admitted that the shooter had likely crossed over into Callum land and waited for several hours until Barrett and Duchess came into view before firing.

Either way, they had to be better prepared.

With that in mind, on Sunday morning, Trent woke before dawn, the sky still veiled in darkness. Feeling the stress of the day pressing down on him already, he picked up the phone and called the security firm Lucien Sutter had recommended.

It was the first step, a decision that made him feel like he had done something that could protect his family and friends and make them feel safer on the job.

The conversation with the security firm had been surprisingly straightforward. Trent outlined the sprawling nature of the ranch and the specific threats they faced. Lucien’s contact was professional and assured, promising to send a team that could conduct an immediate assessment. It wasn’t a complete solution, but it was a start.

As Trent hung up the phone, he felt a mix of relief and apprehension. He knew that the presence of security wouldn’t erase the underlying threat, but it was a step toward regaining some control—or maybe perceived control. The thought of armed guards patrolling the land was unsettling yet necessary.

From his bedroom, he glanced out the window at the first light of dawn breaking through the horizon and prepared himself for another day. He grabbed a box of Life cereal from the pantry and poured milk, wondering how to explain ranch life to a city dweller. The ranch was a world apart, a rugged kingdom where every man and beast played a part in the intricate dance between survival and success.

After devouring his breakfast, he made his way to the barn, where the familiar sounds of the horses greeted him. They were a comforting reminder of the life that continued despite the grief that clung to his heart like a shadow.

The sun began to rise, creating a golden hue across the fields. Soon, he found himself engrossed in his tasks, each movement deliberately attempting to drown out the sorrow that threatened to overwhelm him. The chores were endless, a ceaseless cycle of feeding, cleaning, and tending to each horse individually that relied on him.

Yet, for all the physical labor, the mental burden weighed the heaviest. He wasn’t surprised when Tate joined him and began to haul hay into the stalls.

“How’d you sleep last night?” she asked Trent.

“Got in a couple of hours. What about you?”

“Same. Duchess told me she gave you Granddad’s journal.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You don’t need more things added to your to-do list right now, do you? I don’t think it’s a good idea to dive into that kind of stuff right now.”

“I don’t mind. The journal is kind of an eye-opener in terms of describing how he felt after mom and dad died.”

Tate nodded, her expression softening. “He always had a way with words, didn’t he? Granddad. Have you read much of it yet?”

“Almost finished. It’s... heavy stuff.” Trent’s voice was tinged with a mix of admiration and sorrow.

“Well, take your time with it. No need to slam your way to the finish line through nothing but bad memories. You don’t need to read the entire thing to give his eulogy.” She patted his shoulder before heading to the next stall. “Duchess expects too much of you. She always has. Don’t let her get inside your head.”

Trent watched her—same golden hair, same profile, same stubborn chin as his—a small smile tugging at his lips despite the heaviness in his heart. Fiercely loyal, he knew he could rely on Tate no matter the situation. He returned to his work, the familiar routine grounding him as he navigated the storm of emotions.

Tate’s words lingered in his mind. She was right—he didn’t need to rush through the journal. Each entry was a piece of his grandfather’s legacy, a glimpse into the heart and soul of the man who had raised him. It was a gift, not a burden, and Trent resolved to honor it accordingly.

As the morning wore on, the sun climbed higher, raising the temperature in the barn. Sensing his mood, the horses seemed unusually calm, their presence comforting. Trent moved through the chore he could perform in his sleep, his hands steady even as his mind wandered to memories of his father.

When he finished with the horses, he took a moment to lean against the barn door, the weight of the past days pressing down on him. The ranch seemed to breathe around him, a living testament to the life his grandfather had built. And now, it was up to Trent to carry it forward.

The sound of footsteps drew his attention, and he turned to see Tate approaching. She handed him an iced coffee, their favorite drink this time of day, her eyes searching his face for any signs of the struggle he was so determined to hide.

“Thanks,” he said, taking a sip and savoring the taste.

“Anytime,” she replied, leaning against the door next to him. They stood in comfortable silence, the bond of shared grief and responsibility unspoken but deeply felt.

Eventually, Tate straightened, giving him a reassuring smile. “What do I do about Blake, Trent? I’ve known him my entire life. I love him, but not the way he loves me.”

“How often have you had ‘the talk’ and told him how you felt?”

“Half a dozen at least. I don’t want to hurt him, Trent. I suppose I wouldn’t mind if he stood guard at my door because I know Blake wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me. Not ever. Just like I know you wouldn’t. You’re doing a great job, by the way. All the guys are saying so.”

He chuckled at that and lifted a shoulder, but the words were a balm to his soul. “Praise? What is it you want?”

“I don’t want you to think I’m shirking my duties here. But the horses I mentioned in Colorado need rescuing. The ones we discussed last week. They won’t wait forever. I need a trailer, our longest one, and one of your guys to go with me to get them.”

“Can it wait until after the funeral?”

She slapped him on the arm in a playful gesture only siblings could appreciate. “After. Yes. I’ll wait until next week if that’s what you want. I just don’t want the ranch to become a burden to you. By the way, Savannah is smitten. Don’t neglect her because of this place.”

“Maybe I’m just as smitten.”

“You? What have you done with the real Trent Callum? Do tell. Just promise me you won’t let this ranch rule your life. Promise?”

“Promise. Now get back to work, or I’ll probably find a reason to fire you.”

“You wish,” she said as she headed to the haybarn to replenish the feed.

With renewed determination, Trent pushed off the door and returned to his chores, ready to face whatever the day would bring.

By mid-morning, the ranch was a hive of activity, with ranch hands bustling about, their work ethic a testament to Barrett’s management style. Trent exchanged brief nods and words of encouragement, each interaction a reminder that he wasn’t alone in trying to keep things running like before.

At lunchtime, he stopped at the kitchen in the main house to beg a plate of stuffed pepper casserole off Dolly. “Who made this one?”

“Bree Dennison. Have you seen your grandmother this morning?”

“No. Why?”

“I think she might’ve gone to Turtle Ridge.”

“If she’s out and about, that means she hasn’t taken to her bed again. That’s a good thing.”

“I suppose. But you know she’s feeling guilty because she didn’t know Barrett had been shot.”

“Her giving him CPR is what gave him more time to get to the ER and have surgery. No one knew the damage the bullet had done. She couldn’t have known that.”

“Talk to her. Make her understand it’s not her fault.”

“You’re probably better at making her understand something than I am. But I’ll ride up to Turtle Ridge and see if she’s there. Can I finish lunch first?”

“Finish eating. There’s peach cobbler for dessert that Jordan Harris brought by.”

He scooped up the rest of the casserole and set his eyes on the cobbler. “That looks delicious. Do we have ice cream to go with it?”

“Do you think Savannah cooks?” Dolly replied as she removed a carton of vanilla from the freezer.

Trent rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. It hasn’t come up yet in conversation.”

“She’s absolutely gorgeous. It’d be a bonus if she could cook. Don’t you think?” Dolly reasoned, scooping up ice cream and slapping it on the cobbler. “Savannah for you. Blake for Tate. Get you two married off and maybe grandkids later.”

“Got it all figured out, have you? For your information, Tate isn’t in love with Blake.”

“Not yet. That man is gold. He’d do anything for her.”

“Trust me, they’ve had plenty of time to fall in love. If it hasn’t happened by now, it isn’t happening.” Trent shook his head. “If only you lived in reality instead of fantasy. Maybe stop reading those romance novels you get at Hidden Moon Books and return to earth occasionally.”

“You love to read. I love to read. We just have different interests. You’re almost thirty. It’s time to settle down.”

“You’re the reason I love to read. Don’t you remember all those books you read to us before bedtime? Treasure Island, King Arthur, Hardy Boys, even Nancy Drew. Besides, I am settled. I like my life just fine.”

He pushed back from the table and got to his feet. “Thanks for the grub,” he said as he planted a kiss on Dolly’s white head of hair.

“And the marital advice was free,” Dolly joked. She playfully hit him on the shoulder with her best wooden spoon. “Now go look for your grandmother.”

“Bossy as ever. Okay. I’m going. I’m headed out to saddle up Phoenix.”

“Text me when you find her, so I’ll stop worrying.”

The ten-minute ride to Turtle Ridge gave him a brief respite and time to reflect. He thought of his grandfather’s words, the wisdom and pain etched on each page. He felt a renewed sense of purpose and vowed to honor the Callum name with every ounce of his being.

He found his grandmother walking her horse, Confetti Queen, along the ridge, her ponytail bouncing with each step. “Dolly sent me to look for you.”

“Dolly is a worrywart. Did you know your granddad wants to be buried out here?”

“I knew. Kinsey told me. Didn’t you? You have a problem with it?”

“It’s not exactly the location I would’ve picked. The family cemetery is elsewhere, the spot where we buried your parents. We talked about a family plot under that grove of trees next to the rolling hills when we first bought the place. It’s beautiful and peaceful there. We already have headstones in place there—” Her voice trailed off, and she couldn’t finish.

“Yeah. It’s where we buried Mom and Dad. I get it.”

“It makes no sense. I don’t know why Barrett chose here.”

“This is where you guys watched beautiful sunsets after dinner. You rode your horses here. It’s a great spot. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe it was a sentimental reason.”

“And didn’t tell me? Barrett could be stubborn sometimes, but he always included me in major decisions. This is major.”

“If it bothers you, maybe you should tell Kinsey about your original plans and go with where Mom and Dad are.”

“I drew up plans for the grove of trees where each plot would go. We paid for headstones twenty-two years ago. We placed benches there. It looks like a cemetery because that’s where Travis and Linley are, where our son is buried. Our planned resting place was under that grove of trees. Why would he change that after our trouble designating that spot as the family burial ground?”

This sounded serious to Trent. “I don’t know, but you should probably stick to the family plot. I didn’t even consider what it meant when Kinsey brought it up. I had a lot going on. It was early. I hadn’t slept. I assumed he had a sentimental side. It seems weird now that he didn’t pick the same spot where Mom and Dad were buried. ”

“This isn’t your fault. It’s Barrett’s fault. I’m out here trying to work off the head of steam I’m building. But it isn’t working. I’m angry. I need to talk to Kinsey Wyatt and get this straightened out.”

“Yeah. The sooner, the better. The funeral isn’t until Tuesday. The coroner hasn’t released the body yet to Barton Pearson. There’s still time to get this right.”

Duchess took out her cell phone. “I’ll make the call.”

“Before you do that. Do you still have those plans you drew up for the family plot?”

“Yes, I do. They’re in the safe.”

“Then you have proof that you and Barrett planned to make that a designated spot for burial forty years ago. And when Mom and Dad died, you made it a reality.”

“Good thinking,” Duchess said. “I’ll go back to the house and have those plans in hand before dealing with the lawyer.”

In the quiet, rare moments of solitude, Trent felt the reality of his grandfather’s death when it hit him with a force that left him breathless.

It was one reason to stay busy.

Because the ranch still had to keep going. There were no days off to mourn. The stock came first, always had. He desperately needed to get away and put some distance between being a tower of strength for everyone else and a blubbering mess.

That opportunity presented itself on Sunday afternoon when Savannah stopped by to offer her condolences and any help she could provide. She carried a nine-by-twelve-inch ceramic dish with colorful flowers decorating the outside.

Trent was by the barn. His hat tipped low over his eyes as he worked. He looked up as she approached, a hint of surprise crossing his face before his usual stoic expression took over.

“Didn’t expect to see you back so soon,” he said, wiping his hands on a rag. Should he tell her that her presence was a balm to his weary soul?

“Am I interrupting?”

“Nope. I’m happy you came.”

Savannah noticed his ripped body. He had the kind of bulging muscles that only a man who worked outside could keep. There was no gym for this hunk.

“I’m just being neighborly,” she replied with a smile. “I brought a baked spaghetti casserole. I wanted to make sure you got through the initial shock. I see you did.”

“It’s been a hectic couple of days. I thought you might be worried about me showing up on Wednesday and came to see if I had reconsidered.”

“Nah. Nothing like that. I won’t let you back out now.”

He grinned. “You don’t have to worry about that. Want to go for a walk?”

“Only if I get to see this garden you’re so proud of,” she said, waiting for him to lead the way.

“We’ll get to that. I thought you might want to see our new puppies. Trilby had her babies last night—eight of them.”

Savannah’s face melted into mush. “Oh, I want to see them. I’ve been coming here since January and remember seeing dogs scampering in and out. But I didn’t know any were pregnant.”

“We have four border collies—Locke, Lotus, Taco, and Trilby. And now babies,” Trent added, rounding the corner of the haybarn. He walked toward his office, a contemporary, high-tech facility, located in the hub of outbuildings. He opened the door to show off the area with floor-to-ceiling windows and a skylight that brought in tons of natural light. Two dog beds had been set up so Trilby and Taco could be alone in a cozy environment with their offspring.

“As you can see, the new parents have taken over my workspace,” Trent pointed out as several puppies yawned sleepily beside their mother.

This was no typical office, she realized as she took in the surroundings. It was like a six-hundred square foot apartment with a kitchenette, a bedroom, and a bathroom. “This is the best office I’ve ever been in.”

“Sometimes, I’m working here late into the night. The accountant is always under-appreciated.”

“Like teachers,” she remarked, turning her attention back to the little family nestled together. “Will Trilby mind if I pick one up?”

“For now, you should probably keep it to gawking or petting,” Trent said with a laugh. “Taco might not mind, but Trilby is more protective.”

Savannah set the casserole to the side and knelt to the floor, gently stroking one of the tiny puppies on the forehead. “They’re adorable. You must be so proud of Trilby.”

“Yeah, she’s a great mom. Takes after her own mother.” Trent’s voice softened as he watched the little pups squirm and nuzzle. “Her mother, Tessa, was my constant companion as a kid. Well, Tate’s, too. She went everywhere with us.”

“Have you named them yet? Are you keeping all of them?”

“That’s eight weeks down the road. I haven’t given any thought to names yet. We’ll probably keep them.”

“Aww.”

The two lingered momentarily, entranced by the sight of the new life before them, until Savannah stood up and brushed off her jeans. “I’m so glad I saw them when they’re this tiny. It made my day.”

Trent smiled warmly. “Anytime. Let’s head outside; it’s too nice a day to be cooped up here. I’ll show you the garden.”

They walked out of the barn, the fresh air filling their lungs. The sun had begun its descent into the afternoon sky, generating a swath of golden sunshine over the landscape. Trent led the way along a worn path that meandered through the property.

As they strolled, Savannah noticed the peace of the countryside, a stark contrast to the turmoil she knew Trent was experiencing. The tranquility of the surroundings seemed to offer a temporary escape from the burdens he carried.

They walked in companionable silence, the only sounds being the soft crunch of gravel underfoot and the distant squawk of a bird. Savannah glanced at Trent, noting the tightness around his eyes and the unspoken sadness that seemed to hang over him like a shadow.

“How are you holding up, really?” she asked gently.

He sighed, glancing up at the sky as if seeking answers in the clouds. “It’s been hard. Losing Granddad has been just as difficult as losing my parents. There’s so much to do, so much to take care of, and sometimes, I just feel like I’m drowning. I found out this afternoon that Duchess wants to change the burial site. It’s a big deal with the lawyer. And I hired a security detail to make us all feel safer until Brent finds this asshole. See? It’s overwhelming, a lot to take in. I’m pretty sure I might’ve willed you to pop in this afternoon and somehow save me before my head explodes.”

Savannah looped her arm through his, her heart aching for him. “Believe it or not, I know what you’re going through. I scattered my brother’s ashes in Smuggler’s Bay not six months ago. But you don’t have to do it all alone, Trent. People care about you. I care. Lean on them or me whenever you need to.”

Trent looked at her, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. “You have no idea how much I appreciate hearing that, Savannah. Really, I do.”

They continued walking, the conversation flowing more easily. They talked about the ranch and its challenges, and he shared memories of Barrett. Trent found himself laughing at some of the stories, the burden on his heart lifting just a little.

“I swear I thought you were ignoring me all spring,” Savannah insisted. “Your grandparents kept mentioning they had a grandson, but I never saw anyone but Tate.”

“Guilty,” Trent admitted sheepishly. “I had other things to do than worry about a bunch of kids out here just to cut class.”

“I knew it. I knew that’s what you thought,” Savannah pouted, pushing a finger into his chest. “It’s not true, you know. They’re genuinely interested in animals.”

“I know that now,” Trent stated. “But try to see it from my point of view. Seventh graders are notoriously famous for not knowing what they want at that age.”

“I took the 4-H group on because these kids don’t have a lot of options living in a small town. They’re trying to compete for scholarships with kids from wealthier districts. Getting them involved in anything at their age is a challenge. But they already had one thing in common—they wanted to get out of class and see the ranch.”

“Ah-ha. I knew it,” Trent whooped, holding up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “But I swear from this point forward, I won’t make snap judgments again.”

“As long as you give them a fighting chance.”

She poked him in the ribs as they circled back to the rear of the main house, where a vibrant oasis of colors and scents hit her nose.

Rows of blooming companion flowers and neatly planted vegetables surrounded a central fountain that sparkled in the afternoon light. Savannah marveled at Trent’s dedication and hard work in maintaining such a functional garden.

“Oh, Trent, this is amazing,” she breathed, taking in the sight. “You’ve created something truly special here.”

Trent smiled, his pride evident. “I used the same layout I came up with in college. I kept seeing it in my head and thought this would make a great space for growing everything we needed year-round. Working in the garden helps me unwind and relax. Some guys hit the gym. Me? I love putting seeds in the ground and watching them grow. Sounds corny, I know.”

“It doesn’t, not at all. You’re such a surprise. Where have you been hiding? Why hasn’t some pretty blonde come along and snapped you up before now?”

“In my experience, pretty blondes dislike being around smelly horses. They don’t go together. But yeah, I’m a real catch, a regular Renaissance man because I plant flowers and spend my time at The Plant Habitat hanging around the seed rack.”

She sputtered with laughter. “I wouldn’t go that far. But you’re not exactly what I expected either.”

They wandered through the garden, the conversation turning to tomato plants, squash, watermelon, and a wide variety of summer vegetables.

Savannah found herself laughing more, the heaviness of their earlier exchange beginning to lift. Trent told stories about his grandfather, filled with warmth and humor, painting a picture of a man who had profoundly impacted his grandson.

“You showed me yours. I want you to see my garden next. Come for dinner Wednesday night after your presentation to the kids.”

“I’d like that.” He whirled her into a dance. “I’d also like this to be where we have our first kiss, surrounded by dahlias and daisies. Please tell me you’re not that kind of woman who snubs her nose at sunflowers.”

“I adore sunflowers. What kind of bimbo doesn’t like sunflowers? Are we talking about a real kiss this time around?”

“Yep. Better than the peck I gave you Friday night.”

“Good, because I wondered if that was the best you could do.”

Grinning, he lowered his head to her level and proved he could do better.

As their lips met, Savannah felt a rush of warmth that spread through her entire being. The kiss was tender yet with enough fire to promise more to come, a lot more. When they finally pulled away, they were both breathless, eyes locked in a silent understanding.

“I think that confirms it,” Trent whispered, his voice tinged with amusement.

Savannah smiled; her cheeks flushed with color. “Definitely better than a peck.”

They continued to amble through the garden, hand in hand, their conversation flowing effortlessly. The vibrant blooms around them seemed to mirror their budding connection, each petal a testament to the beauty of a newfound relationship.

As the sun dipped lower, they returned to the path leading to the main house. Savannah paused, placing a hand on Trent’s arm because she heard voices coming from the veranda. “I need to give Dolly my casserole, but I left it in your office.”

“No problem. We’ll go back and get it. Stay for supper. Baked spaghetti is always a fan favorite with this crew.”