Page 5

Chapter 5

Ford

I wonder how long this storm is going to settle in for? I didn’t get as much snow last night as I expected though.

There’s only a skiff, but the way the dark clouds are pressing down, I bet there’s a bunch more in store.

These are the only days I’m mildly curious about access to the outside world. It’d be handy to know if I need to plan for days stuck inside, or if it’s only a small cloudburst.

On second thought, I really don’t give a shit.

It is what it is. I’m here until March. Bring it on, Mother Nature. Let me have your worst.

“Roscoe, what do you say? Should we go check on the cows again before we’re stuck here?” I thread my arms through my heavy coat while watching my blue heeler run in circles next to the door.

“Careful, buddy. You’re gonna start knocking shit down.” Reaching over him, I twist the handle to free him from the tight confines of the cabin. At barely three hundred square feet, there isn’t a lot of room for a wiggling dog.

I kinda want to check and see if I can find any more snow machine tracks. Their presence makes me a little worried knowing how far we are from any civilization.

It ain’t exactly a tourist attraction out here in the middle of nowhere.

Pepper pins her ears as soon as she sees me step into the barn.

“Moody today? Get over it, girl. We got places to go, cows to see. You’ll probably have a week or more to hang out if this big ol’ nasty looking cloud has its way.” I tilt back my cowboy hat to get a better view of the ominous sky.

There should be a couple of hours of good riding before it really starts to dump. I won’t go too far out.

She snorts at me and waves her head, but I manage to get the bridle over her nose anyway.

As soon as I thread the bit into her mouth and buckle it, she settles.

“Every damn time, huh? Can it just be easy once?” I know when she was young, I liked her spirit. She never runs out of steam once she gets going.

It’s just getting her started, that’s a fight. I’d think that after nearly eight years under saddle she’d be used to it by now.

Nope.

I suppose that since she used to be Sarah’s horse, Pepper will always want her first.

But she’s not here anymore to calm Pepper down.

Dead and buried, and it’s my own damn fault.

“You’re lucky I like spunk,” I grumble before tethering the cantankerous mare to the stall and brushing her down, then getting her tacked up to ride.

Roscoe waits patiently by the barn door.

He’s used to this ritual.

By the time we are leaving the homesite, there’s a stinging mist of snow filling the air.

It burns into my eyes and forces me to pull my balaklava up over my nose.

Well ain’t this the shits.

Even Roscoe squints up at me periodically, then darts to run under the trees out of the brunt of it.

It suits my mood.

Today is Thanksgiving. I could be back at the main ranch, celebrating.

Not that I’d have anything to toast. But I am happy to see Mason and his brother found someone.

Never thought Dixon would ever find someone to put up with him.

Sometimes it makes it harder to be around them, knowing I fucked up my own fairy tale.

A high pitched whine works over the rising wind.

Roscoe hears it too. He runs ahead of us with his head high, jumping periodically to see over the bushes.

What the fuck?

I can just see two machines through the blowing snow on the far hill. They’re weaving behind a bunch of our cows, pushing them towards a ravine.

Bastards!

I kick Pepper into a gallop and pull out my pistol.

They’re better than half a mile from me, but anyone out pushing our cattle is pretty much guaranteed to be up to no good.

I barely get close enough to see the colors of their black snowsuits before they catch sight of me and turn away.

When they head towards the deeper powder on the hill face, Pepper can’t keep up.

Damn it all.

I’m gonna have to let Mason know about this. If nothing else to file a report with Wade.

I peel off their trail and head back down the incline to check on the spooked herd.

A loud groaning draws me closer to the edge of the drop off.

Son of a bitch.

Looks like two got pushed over in the panic.

One is obviously dead, the other is mangled between some rocks at the bottom.

I gotta put it down. There’s no way to get it out, and I sure as hell am not going to let it suffer.

After tying Pepper off to a low bush, I cut around the south end to find a path into the canyon.

I’m going to kill those assholes, whoever they are.

Once the unpleasant deed is finished, I climb back up to find the rest of the cows seemingly settled down and eating again.

How am I going to be able to babysit them way out here?

I gotta tell Mason.

The snow is really starting to get heavy when I mount up and start heading to the cabin.

Wade can do a sweep of any buildings around here that those people might have come from.

We need to call out the fucking SWAT teams and put whoever it is in the ground.

God damn, this storm chose now to pick up?

I’m only halfway, but it’s blowing so hard I can’t see. Giving Pepper the reins, I hope she remembers the way.

After nearly an hour of freezing gales, it’s nearly too dark to even distinguish the trees. I manage to pull out the GPS with my stiff fingers, to discover we’re only minutes away from home.

“Good girl.” I pat her neck when the outline of the barn appears out of the night.

I can barely feel my toes when I hop down. Hitting the battery operated lamp next to the stall, I manage to get her saddle off and get her fed in record time. By the time I get her wiped down enough to be dry, I’m dropping anything I try to hold.

“Jesus, Roscoe. There’s almost eight inches. We’re gonna be shoveling tomorrow.” Pushing my way through the deepening powder, I kick it away from the door so I don’t track a bunch inside.

It’s just as cold in here as it is out there.

I gotta get the fire going first. I can’t call Mason if I can’t feel my fingers.

Tinder. Kindling.

Where’s the damn lighter?

The little one with the roller keeps slipping out of my grasp.

It takes a minute, but I finally find the long one with the trigger.

Watching the tiny flame take hold, I feed a few splinters to it until it grabs hold of the bigger chunks.

Within a few minutes, a buzz of heat radiates from the small potbelly.

My hands ache as the feeling comes back into them.

All I can hope is that the below zero temperatures keep the troublemakers holed up too.

I don’t think I used the satellite phone at all last winter. Shit, I hope I remember how it works.

When I pull out the plastic Pelican case and pop it, nothing lights up when I hit the button.

Maybe the damn thing is broken?

Shit. Bet it’s the battery. Doubt it’s been plugged in for months.

Luckily, I have one of those fancy thermal chargers. The bad part is it might take a while.

I guess food is up next.

Something hot and filling should warm me up. Beef stroganoff for the win.

The pot fits on the woodstove next to the tiny generator, and doesn’t take long to boil.

I didn’t realize how damn hungry I was until I burn my damn tongue on the first bite.

Fuck it, I’m too impatient to wait.

Roscoe tilts his head at the noises I’m making with each scalding spoonful.

“You wish your cold kibble tasted this good. If you stop looking at me funny, I might let you lick the pot.” I raise the saucepan to emphasize my point.

He chuffs in response, then turns towards the door and lets out a low growl.

“What is it?” I’ve learned to trust him.

He isn’t the type for idle barking.

When he gets up and noses the handle, I put my food aside and throw on my coat.

A blast of cold air whistles through the tiny cabin when I open it, but now I can hear it too.

The high pitched whine of a snow machine.

And it’s getting closer.

What the shit?

Racing back inside, I grab my pistol, then follow Roscoe towards the growing noise of the engine.