Page 7 of Holden: Bucked By Love (Crawford Ridge Ranch #1)

Holden

I watch Leni drive away and in an effort to shove down the frustration of my entire situation I swing my hat hard against my leg two more times, throwing off dust and making things feel a little more bearable. She looked tired, and I hate it when Leni looks tired.

"What did that poor hat ever do to you?" Walker's booming, cheerful voice calls from behind me.

I don't bother turning around, knowing he'll step up beside me, his bulkier frame shading me from the sun.

Walker has both inches and pounds on me and Landry, but it's all made up of sunshine and goofiness, traits I typically enjoy but have no interest in right now.

So, I don't bother responding. Instead I put my hat back on my head, and when Leni's car disappears around a corner I head back to the barn.

Walker follows, picking up on another conversation I'm not in the mood for. To be fair, there's not much anyone could say to me right now that I'd be interested in hearing, unless it's solutions for my marriage. Of course, that would require me to talk about it, and that's not happening.

A waft of some sort of wood-scented cologne drifts from Walker as he lifts his hat to adjust his shoulder-length hair and I glance over at him, trying to pay attention to what he's saying. In my defense, he talks a lot and I tend to tune him out because of it.

"Herd inspection starts tomorrow. Are all the cattle accounted for?" he asks, referring to the full veterinary check each animal receives before we move them to the summer pastures.

I nod. "As of last night all cattle are accounted for and ready for inspection."

I know I sound like a robot, but I don't appreciate it when he playfully lifts his arms, bent at the elbows, and says back in an overly robotic voice, "Ok-ay, group lea-der."

I sigh and roll my eyes. "How many days do you think the vet checks will take?"

He drops his arms as we enter the barn where he's begun setting up his workstation.

It's a big job, pushing hundreds of head of cattle through for him to examine, vaccinate, and treat as needed.

We do it bi-annually, and I know how lucky we are to have a fully trained and licensed vet in the family.

It saves us thousands of dollars, so I try to shove my emotions back even further and engage with him.

"Depending on what we find, I'm thinking it'll take around three days.

But the visual checks and spot checks have been going well this spring, so I don't foresee any major issues.

" We stop next to the back door of the barn and look out over the big pens where the cattle will be staged starting tomorrow morning.

"Speaking of issues, everything okay at home?

" he asks me, obviously having picked up on the vibes earlier.

I nod. "Yep."

"You'd tell me if there was something going on?" he presses.

I finally make eye contact with my younger brother.

We're a few years apart in age, but age doesn't matter that much when you grow up in the country like we did.

You trust and rely on one another. Still, there are some things that are too painful to talk about, and some wounds too fresh.

Walker may love my family, but even he can't fix it.

"Nope," I say, but I paste on a sideways grin and he slaps my back good-naturedly as we step outside once more.

It's dark and I'm using an old lantern to light my side of the camper.

I still haven't gotten around to running an extension cord up to the cabin to supply power, and the battery died days ago.

Thankfully it's summer, so I don't need a heater, and I still have enough propane to keep my small fridge cool.

Not that there's much in the fridge. It's not luxury living, that's for sure.

Leni accuses me of neglecting her and the kids, but sometimes I think I neglect myself even more.

Mason and Jo-Jo are asleep in their bunks and I glance their way, taking in their sleeping faces.

I can hear their deep breathing and shifting in their sleep, and I'm grateful for it.

The silence of the camp trailer has been almost eerie.

Being separated from them is almost as bad as being separated from Leni has been.

They remind me so much of her, in their expressions and mannerisms. I barely kept myself from hugging them too tight and too long, needing the contact.

I made it here by nine o'clock, but it was a close thing, and guilt was my companion when I put the truck in park and found them sitting anxiously on the back porch of the cabin, waiting for me. I suddenly wondered how many nights they'd waited on a dad that hadn't come home on time.

The ranch has taken over my life, and the past few days have opened my eyes in an undeniable way.

They'd been freshly showered and well fed, and I'd hurried to shower off my day in the tiny bathroom full of cold water before playing a couple rounds of cards with them.

Josi's wide yawns had told me it was time to wind it up and I took the opportunity to tell her one of my favorite childhood stories from memory.

It had been satisfying to have her little hand hold mine from her bunk as I stood there and quietly spoke.

Her long, brown hair trailed over the edge of the bed as her eyes closed, and I took in her little face.

At seven she's losing some of that roundness in her cheeks and I hadn't registered the change until now.

Once she was sleeping, Mason and I slid to the side of the camper that holds the larger bed Leni and I share when we go out, and sat together with our legs crossed, playing another round of cards while he told me a little about his swimming and some of the kids he's friends with.

It was like going mining and striking gold.

I loved hearing this directly from him rather than begrudgingly from his mama – or worse, never hearing it at all.

I'm weary but restless, unsettled away from home.

I need to sleep, though, so I open the small cupboard above my bed to pull out pajamas and my hand connects with something hard behind the clothing pile.

With a frown I lean up on my knees to see better and find a cardboard box with red marker hearts drawn on the side.

My breath hitches as I recognize it immediately.

A smile breaks through the crusty set of my mouth as I pull the box out and sit back down, pulling it into my lap.

I completely forgot this box existed .

The top flap is worn with age and I'm surprised it still holds together as I pull it up to reveal the interior. Three rocks greet me – all heart shaped. Under them lies a faded piece of cream cardstock, folded into fourths and held in place by the rocks.

My hands tingle and I swear I can smell Leni's perfume and hear her laughter as I pull out the rocks first. She had a theory that the shape of a heart could be found anywhere, and she often pointed out heart-shaped clouds, plants, and, yes, even rocks.

These three had been found while we were dating and she'd kept them as a memento of three of our most perfect days.

I still remember where all three are from.

The regular brown rock is from the night of our first date.

I'd felt so much pressure to get it right, and failed, taking her on a horseback picnic only to discover she doesn't like horses, plus I'd packed smoked salmon that she couldn't bring herself to eat.

It had been such a failure that we'd both ended up laughing hard, and she'd picked up a rock to commemorate that it was only going to get better from there.

The reddish-colored rock is from our first kiss near Maple Pond.

Yeah, it was a perfect first kiss. The white rock is from the day we decided to get married.

My fingers trace over the smooth rocks and my chest tugs as I remember her in her cut-off jean shorts and tank tops, laughingly challenging me to beat her to the top of any trail we'd hiked.

Loser had to give the other a piggy back ride on the way down.

I had purposely lost every single race. There was no way I was letting Leni attempt to pack-mule my larger frame down the rocky slopes.

Besides, I had never complained about carrying her.

I loved holding her close and feeling her hair tickle the back of my neck when she'd lean forward to press kisses to my cheeks .

I hold the rocks one at a time in my hands and let the memories wash over me.

It's not easy to open myself up this way.

I'm out of practice. I squeeze them and I swear that a part of me cracks as I do.

Fear and worry, shame and sorrow rage through the crack and have me clutching at my chest. How did we go from gathering rocks to living apart? How did I fail so spectacularly?

With now-shaking hands I put the rocks on the tiny shelf next to my side of the camper bed and delicately pull out the card stock. I'm not sure how well it's weathered the changing seasons stuck in a camper closet, but I'm dying to see what we wrote when we were still so full of hope.

Leni's teenage handwriting greets me and I smile again as I read the big, bold, black letters across the top of the page.

"Lenora Stilton and Holden Crawford's Buck-It List"

I remember the way she laughed and laughed at her play on words.

Come on, Holden, it's funny . She'd fallen onto her back and tugged me with her, until we were both looking up at the blue sky through the leaves and branches above us.

We're too special for a regular old bucket list. You're a rancher. Get it? Buck – It?

I got it, but I played dumb just to get her to tickle at my ribs until I wrapped her in my arms and kissed the breath right out of her.