Page 10

GIDEON

TERRENEAN REALM

W ith two well-placed fingers, my sharp whistle pierces the air.

“Come on, boy.”

Trigger, my beautiful half-beauceron mutt, lifts his head from a nearby bush before he bursts into a run to catch up with me as I urge Juniper into a gallop.

Dark thunder clouds rumble in warning. It’s gone from clear skies to an impending thunderstorm in a matter of minutes, and I reckon I’ve got less than an hour—and about a hundred acres to cross—to get my cattle safe and sound in their barn before it pours.

Some of which are the retired dairy cows and stud bulls I buy back, or cattle rescued from slaughter, who move a little slower than the rest; so I send out my three ranch hands to corral the retired cattle, while Trigger and I herd the rest.

As soon as I bought this land, I offered Beau, Levi, and a few of the other SEALs cattle shares and a plot on my ranch if they’d help me run it. When Levi and Beau both retired a few years later, they took me up on my offer.

The final piece to our little quartet is Gertie–the cowgirl who was a rather unconventional addition to our little squad two years ago.

She knows more about ranching than I do, having grown up on one–not that she ever talks about the hundred-million-dollar mega-ranch she calls home.

She knows just about every trick of the trade there is and has single-handedly saved my ass from having to file for bankruptcy because I ran head first into this with nothin’ but a hope and a prayer.

A thrill swells in my spirit as Trigger and I race across the hilly terrain of my mountainside pastures.

I love this land with all of my heart; have poured my soul into it, to the point of registering it as an agricultural reserve to keep it protected from being destroyed by urban development.

In return, this land and all the animals I get to care for on Kincaid Cattle & Agricultural Reserve have repaid me tenfold by filling in nearly every fissure of my tattered heart.

Nearly.

The only part that remains empty is the woman-shaped hole in my chest. And while I’ve had a number of opportunities presented to me, there hasn’t been a single woman that seems to fit that space.

In the depths of my soul, I could feel they weren’t for me and I’m far too scarred to invest myself in someone for the sake of not being alone.

The fact that I may never meet this person, and very well might die alone is a bitter pill that I’ll begrudgingly swallow.

Seconds before we reach the barn, the skies finally weep. We’re soaked from head to toe, but it does nothing to dampen the fulfillment this place, this land, and these animals give me.

After filling the troughs, giving my bovine friends a thorough check to make sure no one’s injured or over-exerted themselves in our rush, and giving Juniper a few extra juicy apples on top of her dinner, I leave Beau, Levi, and Gertie to take care of the rest while Trigger and I make our way back to my cabin.

When I grab the hose near the back door, his tail wags so furiously it makes his whole body sway. Tossing a bit of his oatmeal and aloe shampoo on his coat, I scrub all the dirt and mud off of him before hosing him down. Trigger chases the jet of water and snaps wildly at it—his favorite toy.

Stomping into the mud room, I begin to towel him dry at the same moment my landline rings. I’ve missed the call by the time I reach the phone and discover I have seven missed calls from Harlan, my small town’s sheriff, and a text message that sends my heart running for my throat.

Need you to come down to the station ASAP.