Joshua Beckett rode toward home, letting his horse set the pace as he lost himself in thought.
The autumn air carried a bite, hinting at the harsh winter to come.
He pulled his collar up against the wind and considered the contentious discussion with Faith.
Her sharp wit had been as constant as ever.
Their history was long. As children, they’d run wild along the riverbanks, more like siblings than friends.
Joshua smiled, remembering the time she’d punched him square in the nose for mocking her new bonnet.
He’d bled all over it, ruining the thing, and she’d cried.
Her tears weren’t for his injury. They were for the bonnet she’d so proudly worn to Wild Spirit Ranch from town.
Even then, her passion had been something to reckon with.
Contrasts defined them. His calm against her tempestuous nature, his slow deliberation versus her rapid decisions. Yet those differences had forged a resilient friendship, one able to weather any storm. He wondered if their heated conversation in town would change anything.
The familiar sight of Wild Spirit Ranch came into view, its sprawling acres a testament to his family’s enduring labor.
Memories surged like spring runoff in Joshua’s mind. He saw them both as children again, barefoot and sunburned, two small figures cutting through tall grass and leaping over rocks.
One summer day, they’d constructed a makeshift raft from old timber and set out to conquer the river.
Faith had stood at the bow like a pirate queen, daring the currents, while Joshua paddled with cautious strokes.
When the raft hit a snag and splintered, dumping them into the icy water, it was Faith who’d laughed first, her fearless howl infectious.
Joshua had joined in, even as he shivered and worried about explaining his soaked clothes to his mother.
Then there was the winter they’d gone trapping with Joshua’s father and brothers.
Faith had set her snares as his father had instructed, her eyes alight with the thrill of the hunt.
Joshua, having done this for a few years, kept a close watch on her.
When they found a rabbit caught and struggling, Joshua had freed it, letting it bolt into the snowy underbrush.
Faith had protested at first, then relented, realizing the animal was too small to keep.
“You’re too soft, Josh,” she’d said, arms crossed. “It’s survival—”
“Survival?” he’d cut in, hurt and defensive. “I’ll survive just fine, Faith. I don’t have to kill everything I see.”
They hadn’t spoken for a week, the longest silence in their friendship. It was Faith who’d broken it, sharing her school lunch and handing him a written apology. She’d never said the words “I’m sorry,” but Joshua knew her well enough to read between the lines.
Their friendship had always walked a tightrope, balancing her unyielding nature with his more flexible spirit. Each clash and reconciliation only tightened the bond between them.
Joshua dismounted and led his horse to the barn, his mind still lingering in the past.
Warm light spilled from the Beckett homestead. Joshua hung his hat by the door, his stomach growling at the rich aroma of roasted meat. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until now.
The family was already assembled in the dining room, a large space dominated by an oak table handcrafted by Millard Beckett, their late patriarch.
Around it sat three generations of Becketts.
Matriarch Naomi, eldest son Grayson with his wife Jolene, and the various sons and daughters who made up the sprawling clan.
“Josh,” called Jolene, her voice warm. “We thought you’d be staying in town.”
“Just late,” he said, taking an empty seat beside his mother.
Grayson raised a hand, and the room fell silent. “Lord, we thank you for this food, for our family, and for the strength to do our work. Amen.”
“Amen,” echoed the table, and the sound of utensils and voices filled the room.
“How’s the new foal?” asked Annalee.
“Strong and spry,” Cody answered. “A real beauty. We’ll need a name soon.”
“Call him ‘Workload’,” suggested Nathan, another brother, with a sly grin. “Seems fitting.”
Laughter rippled around the table. Joshua noted how Nathan’s eyes darted to Naomi, measuring her reaction. Of all the siblings, Nathan was the most prone to jest.
Naomi passed a dish of green beans to Gavin, her eyes softening and lips twitching.
Joshua ate slowly, savoring each bite, but more than that, he savored the company. He watched his family with the keen eye of a herdsman surveying his flock. This was his true gift. Always the peacemaker, he could sense the underlying currents and unspoken truths binding people together.
Grayson and Jolene were holding hands beneath the table, a subtle gesture of affection that spoke volumes about their union. In contrast, Cody sat slightly apart, his posture erect and his movements precise, as if conserving energy for a battle only he anticipated.
Gavin, usually full of chatter, was subdued tonight. His eyes tracked the conversation like a pup sidelined from play. Joshua knew the boy was suffering. A broken arm was bad enough, but the enforced idleness gnawed at Gavin’s spirit.
Then there was Naomi. In her fifties, she was a force of pure energy, her wiry frame and sharp eyes undiminished by age. Yet tonight, Joshua thought he detected a weariness in her, a rounding of the shoulders suggesting more than simple fatigue.
“First snow can’t be far off,” Grayson said, breaking into Joshua’s thoughts. “We need to get a move on with winter preparations.”
A murmur of agreement went around the table. The changing seasons dictated the rhythm of their lives, and everyone understood what was coming.
“We still have the last cutting of hay to finish,” said Cody, the second oldest. “Weather holds, we can knock it out in a couple of days.”
“Calves need weaning,” added Parker, the youngest Beckett brother.
Grayson nodded. “We’ll split the crews, mixing the older hands with the boys. They don’t have school tomorrow. Cody, you take the ranch hands for the hay. Parker and I will handle the calves.”
“What about the barns?” Annalee interjected. “Roofs are still leaking, and the south wall of the big shed is about to give.”
“I can take the barns,” said Joshua. “The boys need the practice. We’ll shore things up.”
“Firewood’s low,” Nathan said. “I’ll tackle it after checking the fences.” Everyone knew there weren’t many, mostly the corrals and around the homestead.
All eyes turned to Naomi, who weighed the plans with the authority of a judge deliberating a verdict. “That leaves the garden,” she said. “We’ll need all the vegetables in, and the beds turned over.” She looked to the women, who nodded. “We can manage.”
The division of labor settled, everyone relaxed. This was how the Becketts worked, with each person knowing their role.
“We should put Gavin to work,” Joshua said, casting a look at the quiet boy.
“He could help me stack wood with his good hand,” Nathan offered. “And feed the chickens.”
“He needs to heal,” Naomi said, her tone brooking no argument. “There’s plenty of time for work.”
The table fell quiet for a moment, the only sound the clink of silverware on porcelain. Joshua knew Nathan would offer Gavin something to do instead of sitting around the bunkhouse.
Annabell stood. “How about dessert?”
The sun rose hesitantly, veiled in a thin layer of clouds that smeared the sky with pastel hues. Frozen dew sparkled on the grass, quickly disappearing as the Becketts set about their work.
In the north pasture, Grayson and Parker moved among the herd, separating cows from their calves with practiced ease. The air was filled with the plaintive cries of the young cattle, a chorus of protest against their enforced independence.
Down in the lower fields, Cody, two older ranch hands, and a couple of the younger boys worked in unison, their scythes rising and falling like the pistons of a great engine. They shouted and laughed, their camaraderie palpable as they made short work of the last standing hay.
At the main compound, Joshua stood atop a ladder, surveying the roof of the big barn. He had a hammer in one hand and a roll of tar paper in the other.
“Need more nails up here,” he called down to Little Joe, one of the boys. “And be quick about it.”
The lad sprinted off. Joshua slid the hammer into his work belt and took a moment to stretch his back.
The view from the roof was expansive, giving him a brief sense of mastery over the land.
He spotted Nathan fifty yards away near the tree line, wielding an axe with measured strokes.
A growing pile of split logs testified to his morning’s labor.
Nathan paused to wipe his brow, then looked over the growing pile of wood. Joshua knew he’d be coming back for the wagon before lunch to transport the firewood to spots near the house and bunkhouse.
He glanced over at Joshua, who was directing two young boys on how to replace a rotted door. Joshua caught his brother’s look and shrugged, causing Nathan to laugh.
In the garden behind the house, the women worked with swift, sure hands.
The earth was cold and resistant, but they dug and pulled with the tenacity of miners extracting the last vein of ore.
Carrots, potatoes, and turnips filled their baskets, dirt clinging to the vegetables like unwilling tenants.
Jolene stood and stretched. “That’s the last of it,” she announced, wiping a strand of hair from her face. “Thought we’d never get done.”
“We’re not done yet,” said Naomi, ever the taskmaster. “Still need to blanch and jar these.”
Annalee and Lilian, the youngest of the Beckett sisters, exchanged weary glances.
At twenty-three and nineteen, both were full of restless energy, though for different reasons.
Annalee wanted to be out with the men, and Lilian wished she were curled up in her room, reading the book she’d borrowed from Joshua.
The women moved inside, where the heat of the wood stove created a welcome contrast to the crisp outdoor air. They peeled and chopped, their motions rhythmic and hypnotic. Steam rose from pots, filling the kitchen with a savory haze.
Little Cody, Jolene and Grayson’s infant son, lay on a quilt in the corner. He alternated between watching his mother work and kicking his legs into the air. His cheeks were flushed, whether from the heat or a budding fever, no one could yet tell.
The day wore on, each hour a testament to the Becketts’ enduring work ethic. In the pastures, Grayson, Parker, and ranch hands finished their weaning, the calves now corralled and the mothers grazing quietly. They rode back to the main compound, their silhouettes merging with the landscape.
Cody and his crew had stacked the hay high, creating towering walls of fodder that would see the livestock through the winter. Their shirts were soaked with sweat, their faces bronzed from the intensity.
Nathan had cut and stacked more wood than they’d need, his hands raw and blistered from years of calluses. He hauled his axe and tools back to the shed, his gait indicating his exhaustion.
At the barns, Joshua and his group had patched roofs and reinforced walls, their handiwork solid and dependable. The young ranch hands had gained valuable experience, and Joshua was pleased with their progress.
Inside the house, the women had finished preserving the vegetables. Rows of mason jars lined the counters, their contents a rainbow of sustenance. Naomi and the girls took a moment to admire their work before dispersing to tend to other duties.
Joshua looked to the horizon, gauging the time by the sun’s descent, and called an end to the day’s labor.
Gavin had spent the day flitting from one work site to another, his casted arm a glaring symbol of his impotence. He offered advice, ran small errands, and tried to make himself useful, but each rejection chipped away at his usual optimism. By evening, he was on his bunk, fast asleep.
The family washed up and gathered once more around the great oak table, their faces a mosaic of fatigue and fulfillment.
Supper was a quieter affair than the night before.
The Becketts spoke in soft tones, conserving what little energy they had left.
Plates were piled high with meatloaf and mashed potatoes, portions fit for a crew of loggers.
Lilian had delivered the same fare to the bunkhouse, the older hands and boys digging in before she closed the door behind her.
“Glad to get the winter preparations over,” said Annalee, yawning.
“We got a lot done,” Grayson acknowledged. “But always more to do.”
“Always is,” said Jolene, patting his hand. “But we can breathe a bit now.”
Joshua surveyed the tired but content faces of his family. This was what he loved most about ranch life. The tangible results of hard work always drew them all closer together.
Parker’s mention of the mountain lion cut through the comfortable haze like a knife. “Heard a mountain lion today,” he said, spearing a piece of meatloaf with his fork. “Cried like a baby.”
Grayson nodded. “Probably the same one who caused Gavin’s horse to buck. Big male, from the looks of him.”
Speculation buzzed around the table. Annalee wondered if the lion was desperate enough to come down into the valley for livestock, while Lilian asked whether the men should take turns standing watch at night.
“It’s nature,” said Nathan, his tone more philosophical than usual. “The lion’s trying to survive. We can’t fault him for that.”
“No, but we can be prepared,” Naomi said, her voice cutting through Nathan’s musing. “Losing a calf is one thing. Losing a horse or one of us is another.”
Jolene looked at Joshua. “Is that the same lion that spooked Gavin’s horse?”
“Might be,” he answered. “We didn’t get a good look at it.”
The table fell silent, each person lost in their own calculations and concerns.
“Do you really think it’s the same one?” Lilian asked, breaking the silence.
“Could be,” said Grayson. “Or it could be a different cat altogether. Either way, we need to be vigilant.”
Naomi leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “We’ve dealt with lions before. This isn’t anything new.”
Joshua listened, absorbing the varying degrees of concern and bravado. His thoughts drifted to Faith again, wondering what she was doing tonight, alone in her large house. The idea bothered him.
The family finished their meal in contemplative silence, each member slowly piecing together the days ahead.
Joshua couldn’t shake the feeling the lion was more than an animal threat. He believed it was a harbinger of something larger. A test for them all.