Page 93 of The Mountain Echoes

“I….” She looks at me, puzzled, as if surprised that I’m helping her, which is starting to piss me off. We may have started off on the wrong foot, but I feel like I’ve made amends, and she still looks at me with suspicion, like I have some hidden agenda. As far as I’m concerned, my agenda of getting her into my bed is out in the open, so I don’t know what her damage is.

“He and the others are on their way back to Kincaid Farms.”

“I can’t thank you enough.”

“Darlin’, I’d do it for any neighbor.” I can’t keep the bite out of my tone.

“True, but you probably wouldn’t spend the day with them, helping with more than the fence,” she points out and smiles at me. “Maverick, I’m really grateful.”

I soften, happy that she noticed my efforts.

Like a puppy who’s been patted on his head.

The woman was tying me up in knots.

I should’ve left hours ago, but I didn’t. Instead, I went to double-check the west line.

“What are you still doin’ here, Mav?” Earl asks as he lumbers through the barn.

“Just wanted to check the west line…while the sun’s up.”

He gives me a long look—like he knows I’m full of shit ‘cause I’m here for Aria but decides not to call me on it.

We both watch the woman in question wipe her hands on a rag by the tool shed, her braid trailing down her back, dust streaking her jeans.

She’s crouched next to the old John Deere, the hood popped, and a socket wrench in reach, sleeves rolled to her elbows. She’s been elbow-deep in a stubborn starter.

“Didn’t think she knew how to fix shit,” Earl drawls. “But she knows her stuff. Got the pump workin’ all by herself.”

I’m just as surprised as Earl—no question about it. But then I’ve also come to realize that maybe Celinehasn’t been particularly honest about her sister. I’ve let go of all my assumptions when it comes to Aria.

“The fence,” I muse aloud. “I think it was done on purpose.”

Earl grunts. “Yeah. She don’t suspect it, though.”

“No.” I tuck my hands in my jeans pockets and rock on the balls of my feet. I know I should tell her about my doubts, but I don’t want to add to her burdens, which are considerable. “Anything else going on that worries you?”

He seems to think about it for a long moment. “Last week, some of the alfalfa bales were laced with moldy filler.”

“How bad?”

He shrugs once. “A few cows got sick. I thought it was poor storage, but now, I ain’t so sure.”

“You think someone did it on purpose?”

Earl pulls his hat off, runs a hand through his graying hair, then props a boot on the lower rail of the fence as he looks out at the recovering herd. “Yeah, I do.”

“Someone wants Aria to fail,” I surmise.

“If I didn’t know you, I’d have thought it was you.”

“That’s not my style.”

“No.” He looks at me. “You know whose style this is?”

“Hudson’s?”

He nods and goes back to staring at the herd. “She sells at Gunnison, she can make it work. She’s good. She’s done her research. Called some fancy agriculture professor from her college, and…I think if we can get the cattle sold, we’ll make it.”