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T imber Woodland straightened from his project, wincing at the jolt of pain, and reached for the old T-shirt hanging from a nail on the wood post beside him.

He used it to stop the sweat from running down his face, then took a moment to wipe his hands before rehanging the rag.

Even in shorts and a tank top, he couldn’t stop the sweat from forming.

It was New Mexico in the summertime, after all.

Stretching his arms out first, he next moved around a few steps to loosen up the joints in his legs.

It was one thing to work outdoors all day long.

It was another thing to work outdoors all day long and to feel every muscle screaming at him at the end of the day—something he wanted to avoid as much as he could.

Yet still he pushed himself to the very limit, testing where that line was daily.

He sighed. His life had been broken in two. Before the accident and after.

Before, he had always been a fitness fanatic, easily making it into the Navy SEALs, plus adding field medic to his skills.

And afterward? Well, to be honest, his prosthetic tried to slow him down. He shook his head at that. He had too much to do, and the dream of the Haven, an animal rescue and rehabilitation center, drove him.

He smiled as he felt a sense of accomplishment, a sense of a job well-done.

It was hard to explain if you’d never really experienced it, but, to Timber, life was meant to be lived.

That meant to have a body that was well used too.

It’s just that used seemed to be a second cousin to abused , something Timber constantly kept an eye on.

It had taken a long time to get into the physical shape he was in, and the last thing he wanted was to lose it over carelessness now.

Of course it could happen in a heartbeat if he injured himself or if he overdid it on a regular basis.

It was hard not to. He was alone and doing everything himself. Therefore, he was overdoing it daily.

Yet he had healed enough to finally walk freely on his prosthetic, and doing construction work for Badger over the past many months had been better than rehab.

Plus the added design work that he did for Kat had helped Timber and Kat to further refine his prosthetic.

So each kind of work had also been a form of mental and physical therapy, but a program that he was sure his former physiotherapist wouldn’t have expected or would even have allowed.

Regardless, moving heavy construction materials, swinging a hammer, and climbing timber frames on construction jobs, as Badger’s crew worked to build houses for those in need, had helped Timber in so many ways, even after he had left them to put down roots here.

And now his body moved with a freedom he rejoiced in. He just needed to remember that tomorrow would be a whole different story if he didn’t look after today.

How prophetic. If everybody would learn that simple lesson, things would be a whole lot easier. But people didn’t seem to learn easily, and he was no exception.

He stepped back, took a look at his work, and nodded.

It was coming along. It was slow, and that was fine, since it was his and his alone.

It was a dream come true, even if it was in a very dilapidated state right now.

He was perfectly capable of fixing it. It would just take time, energy, and money.

Doing it fast would be great, but he was just fine to settle on doing it well.

He took several more steps, kicking out his legs, readjusting his prosthetic ever so slightly, making note of where it was hurting and wondering whether he was doing something wrong or should really bring it up with Kat.

As a prosthetics designer and manufacturer, she’d been instrumental in getting his mobility to this point, and he appreciated it. Finding her and Badger had truly been a blessing in disguise, and, through that construction work for them, Timber had concluded that this was what he needed to do.

One of Timber’s dogs, Kojack, a Heinz 57 mix but with a bit of Lab in him, raced over to Timber, then slightly detoured to chase a squirrel that had been keeping him company all morning.

Timber quickly corrected the dog’s behavior, as the squirrel was just as welcome here as the dogs were.

Kojack had been badly abused in his early years and now had almost no hair on most of his body, but he had a heck of a good sniffer and was a great watchdog.

Even if he wasn’t, Timber would have taken him in a heartbeat because Kojack needed a home, and that was what Timber was all about. If an animal needed something that Timber could provide, he was there for them.

He reached down to scrub the back of Kojack’s head.

He barked and rubbed against Timber’s exposed legs.

The animals didn’t care about Timber’s prosthetic, injuries, or scars.

They just cared about the fact that Timber was here for them.

They now existed in a world full of joy, contentment, peace, and even fun because they were out here playing on a regular basis.

For Timber it was work, but, since his toil was for the dogs and for the future animals too, well, it was everything.

He laughed when Kojack raced over as Philly, a brown Malinois, got up and slowly moved toward him.

Philly was an older shepherd, probably a K9 dog at one point in time, but her training had been a long time ago.

Now she was much more concerned about where her next meal was than where the next villain of the story was.

Timber was fine with that. She was a sweetheart, and she moved about gingerly, probably just as sore and stiff as he was some days.

He bent to stroke her forehead. “Hey, girl. How are you doing?”

While cuddling her, he surveyed his property.

He had over sixty acres now and was hoping to get more from the owner of the ranch next door.

It was land the current owner wasn’t using, land that even now the family was trying to break up and to sell off in bits and pieces, just so they could get the money for other things.

And the old man, Andy Killerman, was holding off as much as he could.

Timber didn’t want to be part of the breakup of the Killerman family land, but, if any of that land was available to come his way, he was more than happy to negotiate.

So far, Andy had been more than reasonable, and Timber appreciated that; but he also understood that the rest of the Killerman family didn’t see it the same way.

If Andy bent to their wills, they would want Andy to make a deal on the land.

Timber knew that the prices would likely go way up too, and that was something he didn’t want.

When it came to Andy though, it was anybody’s bet.

He was a rancher through and through, and he knew what a deal was.

He knew what the value of his property was.

So, as much as he had been happy to let Timber have some acreage, Andy was still holding off on the rest of the property, and that was fine.

Sixty acres was more than enough for Timber to deal with right now.

He’d hoped for ten, twenty, and it had turned into thirty, then doubled from there.

In truth, sixty acres had been a godsend for him, particularly when it came with a watering hole on the side, which meant that chances were good that he would have a decent water supply.

He could always put in more wells, and he already had one for the main cabin, his house, but one never had quite enough water, particularly in this New Mexico area.

Once again he grabbed the rag, wiped off his face, then reached for his water bottle and took a big slug.

He would love a cold beer right now, but not until the day was done.

Only then would he consider it. Right now, there was work,… hell, there was always work.

Feeling an odd sensation coil up his back, he shifted ever so slightly to see what his internal antenna had caught, whatever the hell that meant anymore.

When he had been a US Navy SEAL, his instincts had been his saving grace many a time, and he had certainly kept them cultivated and fine-tuned, but what the hell that meant in his current life, he had no clue.

His life was completely different than he’d expected it to be.

That’s what happened when you got injured on the job, particularly to the level of the injury that Timber had sustained.

He looked around once more, the warning tingles gone.

So was the animal that didn’t want to approach.

At least not yet. If hurting enough, the animal would return to get some help from Timber, as Timber had done for himself.

He now smiled down at his steel blue prosthetic.

His prosthetic was top-notch, and that was due to Kat.

He’d also helped her to build some jigs to make some of the processing of these individual one-off pieces a little easier for her, and, as a thank-you—and her hope for continued assistance from Timber—she had been helping him build these prosthetics for his own leg.

This one was doing pretty well, and he was really happy with the way it had worked out.

Still smiling, he quickly texted Kat just to share that.

She deserved to know that things were going well.

She responded, Good. I would like to see it in a couple weeks, just to assess how it’s holding up against the hard work.