Chapter Twenty-Five
A Week Later
The scent of frying bacon hung in the air, mingling with woodsmoke and the sweetness of June’s preserves. Morning light, golden and soft, streamed in through the kitchen window, warming the worn edges of the table where four plates sat, and steam rose in lazy curls.
Weston sat with his elbows on the table with his sleeves rolled up, watching his coffee cooling in the big mug, the one that was now knows as his mug.
He watched Mary Jane spear a piece of sausage with exaggerated care.
Her eyes were narrowed in concentration, like she was negotiating with a snake.
Across from her, June chuckled under her breath and passed the butter without being asked.
Finally, he glanced at Nora. She wasn’t laughing, but her eyes were on him, and something in them had gentled.
Her fingers were still, folded around a coffee cup.
She was quiet, like maybe, for one breath, one morning, everything might just be all right.
When their eyes met, Weston gave her a discreet nod, as if he wanted her to know that she could have this peaceful moment for herself, and then turned to Mary Jane.
“Have you ever squared off with a rooster?” he asked in a conspiratorial voice, tilting his head.
The little girl’s eyes lit up. “No, but I saw one chase a dog once.”
He grinned. “Well, I once knew a bird meaner than any outlaw west of the Mississippi. I swear, he strutted like he had a pistol tucked under his wing. Every morning, without fail, he’d wait till I stepped out the door, then launch himself at my knees like he was defending the whole homestead.”
Mary Jane burst into laughter, clamping her hand over her mouth.
“Oh, it gets worse,” Weston continued, warming to the sound of her giggles.
“One day I came out wearing Ma’s best church coat, and that evil rooster must’ve thought I was some new fella coming to challenge his rule.
He flew at my chest like a cannonball. I went down really hard; my coat was torn, my hair got all messy, and that bird strutted off like he’d won a duel at dawn. ”
Mary Jane was laughing so hard now her face turned red, and even June let out a proper laugh, covering her mouth with a napkin.
“Oh, I’ve met a few roosters like that,” June said, once she caught her breath.
“They were all puffed up and screeching, convinced the whole barnyard revolved around them. We had one when I was a girl. It used to chase Pa clean across the yard every Sunday. He swore that the bird was sent by the Lord to punish him for sleeping through sermons.”
Mary Jane let out another delighted shriek of laughter. Weston barked a laugh too, surprised and charmed by the image in his head.
“Maybe that rooster was the preacher,” Mary Jane gasped, wiping her eyes. “Maybe he came to chase sinners straight to the pews!”
Weston chuckled, shaking his head. “If that’s the case, I’ve dodged a whole congregation’s worth in my time. Good thing none of them had feathers or talons, or I’d be a churchgoer yet.”
June grinned over the rim of her teacup.
“Don’t tempt fate, Weston. If the Lord hears you, he might send a goose next time, twice the size, and half the patience.
” She then took a sip of her tea, and finished her story.
“Anyway, Pa finally gave up and started attending church again. Said he’d rather face the preacher than the poultry. ”
The laughter was still echoing off the rafters when the door slammed open with a bang loud enough to rattle the dishes.
Duke stumbled in. He was breathless, his hat clutched in one hand and his face streaked with sweat and dust. “They’re gone,” he said with a voice too loud in the quiet that followed. “The cattle. All of them.”
Weston stood up fast enough to push the chair back with a scrape. “What do you mean—gone?”
“I mean the whole herd,” Duke replied, looking straight at Nora now. “Fences are cut. There’s nothing left… only hoof prints and empty pasture.”
Nora was already on her feet, and Weston noticed her face draining out of color. “No,” she said softly, as if she was dreaming, then louder and more assertive, “No! They were just there yesterday. You must’ve missed them. Maybe they moved down to the river, or—”
“They didn’t,” Duke said, shaking his head. “I looked everywhere. Tracks lead out toward the ridge. Someone took them.”
Mary Jane’s hand crept into Weston’s without him realizing.
Her fingers were small and cold, trembling just enough for him to feel it.
She stood stiff beside him. He looked down at her, at the fear pinching her brow, the way she bit the inside of her cheek like she was trying not to cry.
It hit him harder than he expected. That girl had already lost more than most grown folks ever had… And now this.
Weston crouched beside her, bringing himself level with her eyes. “Hey,” he said softly, giving her hand the smallest squeeze. “There’s nothing for you to worry about, all right? We grownups are gonna figure this one out.”
Her lower lip quivered. “But the cows are gone.”
“I know,” he said, trying to sound as gentle as possible. “But you’ve also got a lot of tough folks on your side. Do you really think the thieves will get away with it, just like that?“
A faint smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “You’ll beat them up, just like that rooster beat up on you.“
Weston couldn’t help himself but laugh at that one. He reached up and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. “That’s right. They don’t even know what kind of trouble they’ve put themselves into.”
***
Outside, the sun was still shining, and the sky was still wide and blue. But when they stepped out the door and saw the slashed fence, the trampled grass, and the wide, empty field where cattle should have been, it felt like the bottom had dropped out of the world.
Nora stood still at the gate. Her eyes were locked on the distance, probably hoping to spot the herd and send her men to get them back…
but in vain. “They were everything to us,” she whispered.
“We needed them to pay the loan, to make it through winter. Now…now I don’t know how we’re going to survive. ”
Weston’s stomach turned. He’d known hardship, loss. But this wasn’t his alone, this was hers, and Mary Jane’s too. The fear in Nora’s voice cut sharper than any blow. He stepped closer, but couldn’t say anything, mostly because there was nothing to say.
He saw the way Mary Jane had gone quiet again, clinging to June’s arm now. “Come on, baby,” June said gently, resting a hand on the back of her head. “Let’s go inside.”
Mary Jane didn’t argue. She let herself be led back toward the house with her shoulders hunched. Her earlier laughter already became a memory that was fading with each passing moment.
Weston stood with Duke and Nora. None of them said a word.
A familiar, unwelcoming feeling stirred in his chest; he felt the rage, the grief, the ache of watching something good stolen, taken away before it had a chance to take root.
He stared at the slashed fence, the churned earth, the hoof prints leading off into the hills and beyond that, the nothing.
He looked at Nora. She was standing stiff and silent, with her arms crossed tightly over her chest like she was trying to hold herself together.
Her eyes were glassy from the hopeless feeling of loss, from the reckoning of what this would cost. Weston saw it clearly now, the way she was already trying to figure out how to solve a problem.
Again. She was examining the horizon for a moment, as if she was thinking what would be the smartest move, then she turned to Duke.
“Go find Cade,” she finally said. “Tell him what happened. Bring him here immediately.”
Duke nodded without hesitation. “All right. I’ll ride fast.”
“Take the north pass,“ she added. “It’ll cut time.”
Soon, Weston and Nora were alone. He followed her in silence.
The dry grass crunched beneath their boots as they crossed the pasture, and the closer they got to the break in the fence, the clearer the damage became.
Wire was sheared clean, posts were splintered and left to sag like broken bones.
The cut was deliberate, clean. He knew exactly where to strike.
Weston crouched by the break, dragging his hand along the edge of a snapped post. The wood was fresh, split recently, still pale at the core. Behind him, he heard Nora’s heavy exhales. He didn’t turn because this time, he didn’t know how to help her.
“I thought we were past the worst of it,” she said quietly. Her voice sounded rough around the edges. “That maybe…we’d get a little room to breathe. But first the horses got sick…And now, this…”
He slowly stood up, brushing the dust from his knees. “I know,” he said. “You didn’t deserve this.”
She gave a dry, mirthless laugh. “I really don’t think it matters what anyone deserves around here.”
Weston looked at her without a word. Her face was turned toward the hills, her shoulders were squared like she was bracing against a storm. The silence around her was almost unbearable. He could feel her pain, and that tore him apart.
He wanted to say something, anything. But what could he offer that wouldn’t sound small and stupid up against this kind of loss?
“It wasn’t just cows,” she said after a moment. “You know that, right?”
He nodded once. “I know.”
“It was the loan. The winter feed. The roof repairs.” Her mouth slightly twisted as she kept talking. “The feeling like maybe…you know…like maybe we weren’t drowning anymore.”
Weston didn’t answer. His words couldn’t fix the fence; they couldn’t put cattle back in the field or erase the look on Mary Jane’s face when the laughter disappeared from her eyes.
All he could do was stand there and feel it, feel the weight of her pain like it was his own.
Because it was. Somewhere along the way, her burdens had become his.