Page 23 of Holden: Bucked By Love (Crawford Ridge Ranch #1)

Holden

I'm as tired as I used to be when Mason and Josi were infants and they kept us up all night after a full day of hard work.

This time it wasn't an infant, it was one of those special Utah summer thunderstorms that rage through the mountain ranges with low clouds, heavy thunder, and lighting—the echoes shouting across the valleys between mountain walls that keep them clanging back and forth.

I never sleep during those storms, too worried about what will meet me in the daylight, and this one came with an extra layer of concern as I sat in my camper bed fretting about my family.

Finally, during the worst pounding part of the night, I'd thrown open the camper door and run to the cabin in my thin pajamas, and then stood dripping in the dark kitchen, listening for any signs of distress.

Josi hates these storms and always crawls into bed with me and Leni, but it was blissfully quiet.

There were no leaks in the roof, and no sounds of Leni comforting kids.

I could hear the refrigerator hum, telling me power was still stable.

Yet . . . I couldn't bring myself to leave them.

Instead, I dried off as best I could, tucked some towels under me, and did my best to rest on the couch with one ear open.

It was restless at best, and I headed out before the sun started to rise in order to get dressed in the dark, cold camper.

My family may never know I watched over them last night, but I know, and that means something to me.

Fully dressed, with a warm cup of instant coffee sloshing around in my stomach, I hustle across my muddy backyard, headed for my truck, ready to be on the road to the homestead where I'll meet up with the family to take stock and undo damage.

This storm was particularly violent. My hat is low on my head, fighting off the drizzle that still lingers in the area, and I tug the sides of my waterproof canvas jacket together against the chill that comes with these storms. I glance at the cabin where my family is sleeping.

I hate being away from them, and that hate is growing every day.

I'm reaching for the door handle of my truck when I catch a flash of activity near the back door and look up to see Leni jogging toward me.

She's fully dressed in jeans and worn-out hiking boots, tugging on a flannel jacket as she comes toward me.

Her hair is tucked under a wide-brimmed hat, and her expression is earnest when she reaches me.

"That was a bad one last night," she says, looking up at me. Her brown eyes draw me in, and I find comfort there for the first time in a while.

"Yeah," I respond eloquently.

"Are you heading to the homestead?" she asks, finishing buttoning up her jacket.

"Yep."

"Great. We're coming. You guys will need the extra help. The kids are getting dressed. Can you spare a minute so we can ride with you, or do you need us to come in my car?"

She says it all so quickly, like she's afraid I'll reject her offer to help.

But after our talk in the hammocks, I understand how much she's wanted to be included and there's no way I'd say no.

I'm filled with an emotion I don't know how to name.

It's surprise, plus relief and confusion all jumbled into something that crash-lands in my chest and lodges there.

We stand together in the still-drizzling morning twilight, and I'm so grateful she's here with me.

"I can wait," I say, and I barely flinch at the idea of my parents and brothers waiting on me, or the cattle that may have time to wander farther through fences that have possibly fallen. This is more important. She's more important. "Thanks for coming."

Leni jogs back to the cabin and I follow at a slower pace, my mind bouncing between the fact that she's joining me and the list of things that I'm afraid I'll find broken.

I don't know which train of thought to settle on.

I stay outside the cabin on the porch, not wanting to take the time to yank off my boots, and within five minutes the three members of my little family are joining me in various states of wakefulness.

Leni obviously pulled them from a dead sleep, the one they probably finally fell into when the storm subsided.

My lips lift into a half smile at the sight.

Mason is decked out in a hoodie, beanie, and shoes that are way too new and nice to have any business on a muddy ranch this morning.

Josi is still in her pajamas, with a rain jacket over them and her hair in disarray.

One arm of her rain jacket is empty because getting her bent and casted arm into it is hard enough without her being floppy.

I'm guessing Leni plans to leave them at the homestead for part of the morning and hopes that Jo-Jo will fall back asleep.

"Here, honey, let me take her," I mumble to Leni as I lift Josi's little body into my arms .

Her head sags comfortably against my shoulder as we move toward my truck. Mason doesn't speak, his head down as he trudges along. Maybe he'll fall back asleep too. Although, at twelve, I'm thinking it's time he started pitching in a little more at times like this.

None of us talk on the short drive, and that's fine with me. I'm busy processing down my mental list of things to check and who can do what, so that by the time my truck pulls in next to Walker's and Landry's, I'm ready with the assignments.

My parents and brothers are all standing on the front porch, dressed in full work gear, hats pulled low over sleepy eyes, and they watch as Leni and I gather our kids and head toward them.

It's quieter than usual out here, a common affair when the clouds are low and heavy with moisture, like the entire barnyard is hunkering down against nature.

The regular tink, tink, tink of water dripping from the large tree in front of the homestead onto the rain gutters is the only sound I can process.

"What's the plan?" Dad asks when we're all standing together.

Leni takes Josi from my arms and herds the kids inside, and my mom's knowing gaze watches them before landing on me. "I think I'll stay here with the kids this time," she says, surprising me. Mom always works alongside us. "That will free up Leni to help."

I immediately offer her a small nod of thanks as she follows Leni inside. Now that I know how often my wife has felt left behind, I'm grateful that she won't be this time. I don't want her to keep feeling that way. I want her to understand that she's important and wanted.

I look to my dad and brothers and launch into the plan.

"We need to check fence lines and see if any debris was washed downstream that's going to clog up the creek and cause watering issues.

We need to check stock for any injuries and get a head count—especially if we do find downed lines.

" They nod, expecting as much. "Dad and Landry, you check the creek for debris and clear it if needed.

" Dad slaps Landry on the back and they nod.

"Walker, I want you and two of the hands to find the herd and check for any issues with health or numbers.

I'm hoping we haven't lost any." Walker gives me two thumbs up and a ridiculously cheery grin for this horrible hour of the day. "Leni and I will check fence lines."

Leni doesn't really enjoy horseback, but prefers the UTV. Checking fences on a UTV is pretty par for the course, and a way I know she can comfortably help. I'll go on horseback to the rougher terrain and she can stay in the pasture areas. It feels like a win-win to me. I hope she'll feel the same.

"The radios should be charging in the barn. Everyone take one, keep them on channel five. Let me know anything you find that's concerning," I finish.

I feel Leni step up to my side before I see her. She has a smile as she looks between the four of us.

"Put me to work, Sarge," she says, and I'm immediately happy she's coming. I owe my mom for this one.

Dad, Walker, and Landry all hop down the front steps, and we follow as I explain the plan to Leni.

"Will you be warm enough in that jacket?" I ask with a frown. She has waterproof clothing, but she isn't wearing any, and I know how miserable these long mornings can be. "It's still wet, and the sun won't be up for another hour."

She smiles up at me. "I'm good. I have on layers."

There's a flurry of activity as we saddle horses and get radios. Leni takes off on the side-by-side before the rest of us are fully ready, and I watch her bop along the bumpy terrain that leads up to the eastern pasture where I asked her to start first.

"Breaker, breaker, this is Hay Bale Hottie reporting in for duty, over," she calls over the radio as she rounds a corner out of sight.

My brothers and Dad chuckle, but when her next sentence comes through they all look at me and laugh.

"I'd like to request that Horseshoe Hustler—I'm talking about you, Holden—stop scowling in my direction.

I'm a grown woman and I know how to drive this thing, over. "

"You made his whole face turn red, over," Walker says into the radio he's holding.

"It made his eyes pop, over," Landry adds from two feet away.

I ignore both of them and their idiotic teasing as I climb onto Twister and head out of the barn.

Their radio banter continues, with Leni's laugh echoing through, and it's hard not to beat myself up when I hear how much she's liking being part of the team.

How did I not realize the isolation she was feeling?

I don't have much time to analyze it all, because within ten minutes I'm getting radio chatter from everyone noting all the issues that need addressing.

Leni found a post down, Walker's crew found a few cow escapees, and Dad noted some larger broken branches that they're using their horses to pull out in order to free the water flow.

So, basically everything that could have happened did.