Page 28 of The Lilac River (Silver Peaks #1)

My Front Porch Looking In - Lonestar

Nash

I t was rare I got a real lunch break, but today, I needed to check on Bertie. She’d looked brighter at breakfast, her color returning, her sass creeping back in, but still, a full day in bed wouldn’t hurt. Maybe it was selfish, but I just needed to see her with my own eyes. To know she was okay.

As I walked past the paddock, the noon sun blazing overhead, my boots kicked up dry dust that clung to my jeans.

The sky was a pale, cloudless blue, Colorado’s version of a calm before the storm, and sure enough, when I saw Felicia, Shane’s wife, standing in the front doorway, unease gripped my gut.

She smiled the moment she saw me, warm and relaxed, and I exhaled.

"Is everything okay?" I called, my steps already quickening toward the porch.

"Hey, sweetheart," Felicia said, wiping her hands on her jeans. "You didn’t need to rush. She’s fine. Sleeping like an angel."

Relief loosened the knot in my chest. "I thought I’d come home for lunch. Give you a break."

I hugged her, the kind of hug that came with years of shared casseroles, calving crises, and family holidays.

"Why don’t you head home?" I offered, grateful down to my boots.

"I can stay," she said, brushing something, hay, probably, from my shoulder. "I’m not in a rush."

"Go on. You deserve an afternoon to yourself."

She chuckled, already reaching for her bag. "If I stay idle, I’ll just start calling Sarah every five minutes to see if she’s gone into labor."

"She’s still six weeks out, Felicia."

"Exactly. All the more reason for me to stay distracted, so maybe I’ll go and try my hand at some centerpieces to sell in the farm store."

“Much call for them?” I asked, genuinely interested. Even though we gave free rein to Shane and Felicia at the lavender farm, I still liked to stay in touch with what they were doing.

“Like you wouldn’t believe. Especially at holiday time. Mix in some holly with the lavender and folks go crazy for them. I want to try some Summer ones, and maybe some wreaths.”

I shook my head, smiling. "You need to slow down.”

She waved me away. “Never.”

“Well, thanks for watching Bertie. I appreciate it."

"Thanks for letting me. That girl is special, Nash. Reminds me a lot of your mama."

That made my heart thud unevenly. I looked away.

Felicia squeezed my arm and headed off just as Gunner and Wilder pulled in front of the house, dragging a trailer behind the ranch truck. The metallic rattle echoed over the land like a warning.

Wilder jumped out before the engine even cut, hollering, "Gotta piss!" as he took off toward the house.

"Classy," Gunner muttered, climbing out slower, slipping his phone into his pocket.

I nodded toward the trailer. "Thought you were taking him straight to the cattle barn."

"Figured you’d want a first look," Gunner said, jerking his chin at the trailer.

Curiosity piqued, I stepped up to the half-door, peeked in, and whistled.

The new bull was massive. Pure black Angus, muscle rippling under his glossy hide, eyes hard and suspicious. He looked like he was already calculating the quickest way to break out and destroy us all.

"Second fertility test came back okay?"

Gunner’s grin was obnoxious. "Our boy’s shooting fire out of those gigantic balls."

I crouched for a better look. "Jesus, Gun. You’re not kidding. They’re bigger than a pair of footballs."

"Natural breeding only," Gunner said proudly. "And no way in hell am I helping that beast along. No hand jobs for him."

Wilder returned, zipping up. "What do you think?"

"He’s a monster. We’ll get some good calves out of him."

"What are we calling him?" Gunner asked.

"You know who gets that honor," Wilder replied, winking.

"Bertie," we all said in unison.

Ray, one of our hands, strolled up, saluting lazily. "Heard you got a bull for me."

"Take a peek," Wilder said, tipping his hat back.

Ray did and let out a long whistle. "Hell of a beast. Got a name yet, or are we waiting on the little boss?"

"Waiting," I said. "She’ll name him when she’s up for it."

Gunner tossed Ray the truck keys. "Careful with him. Wilder almost lost his manhood this morning."

Ray laughed, climbing into the truck. "Oh, and heads up. A storm warning came through the radio. Looks like we’ve got a summer squall brewing."

I glanced at the horizon, still calm. Too calm. "Great."

"I’ll get the guys checking the lightning rods," Ray promised.

Once he was gone, Wilder glanced toward the house. "Lunch?"

"Yeah," I said, suddenly hungry. "And I’ll tell you about the creek while we eat."

"Fuck," Wilder hissed, pushing his plate away. "You know what the fines are like for environmental violations? We’d be bled dry."

"Don’t want to think about it," I muttered, still chewing.

"You think we’ll find out who dumped it?" Gunner asked, flicking a look at the window where clouds were beginning to thicken.

"Maybe. Containers had no labels, but the water division’s checking. Should know more soon."

"It’s not just the fines," Wilder said. "Reputation matters around here. No one’s gonna believe we poisoned our own damn land... but if we can’t prove it wasn’t us.”

"I know," I said. "We’re screwed."

Gunner got up to throw his trash away. He came back holding something in each hand—a pamphlet from the environmental rep, and something small and pink.

A phone.

He dangled it with a raised brow. "Whose is this?"

My stomach dipped.

"It’s Lily’s," I said, trying to sound casual.

Wilder’s eyebrows shot up. "She was here?"

"Bertie was sick. Lily stayed to help while I was out at the creek."

Wilder leaned forward. "Is Bertie okay?"

"She’s fine. Sleeping upstairs. Felicia had her all morning."

Relieved, he nodded. Then his expression shifted. "And Lily?"

"Yeah," Gunner said, grinning. "Lily."

"She helped. That’s all," I muttered. I grabbed the phone and shoved it into my pocket. "I’ll call the school."

"Or," Wilder said slowly, "you could take it back yourself."

"Stop stirring the pot," I growled. "Let it go."

Gunner snorted. "Dude, I bet you could power the county grid with the voltage in this house last night. Wish we’d been here to see the show."

"Drop it," I said, then grabbed the pamphlet. "Let’s figure out what the hell got dumped in the creek."

I scanned the list, tapping a picture of a yellow barrel. "This. That’s what was in the creek."

Wilder squinted. "I’ve seen that brand before. Somewhere local. I just can’t place it."

"Keep thinking," I said. "Because we need a break."

"You going to check on Bertie?" Gunner asked.

I nodded. "Yeah. Then I’ll call Dougie."

"And we," Wilder said with a grin, "are going to check on King Pharaoh. Before Bertie names him Howard Keel or some other cinematic nightmare."

I laughed, but it came out rough. I headed upstairs, Lily’s pink phone a heavy weight in my pocket.

I didn’t know what I’d say when I handed it back.

I only knew it wouldn’t be the end of anything.

Not by a long shot.