Chapter Three
Beau
“You sure you’re alight, Pop?” I asked through the phone, walking through the barn with a saddle over my shoulder.
My father let out a weathered chuckle, one this Earth had the pleasure of hearing time and time again over the last six decades. The sound was a comfort to me. As long as my pop was still laughing, all was right in the world—even when mine was ripping apart at the seams. “I’m alright, son,” he promised me.
My boots carried me to the back of the barn where Spirit was resting, chomping on some apples Valerie had so graciously dropped off to all the horses this morning. I shook my head at the golden-haired beast as he flipped his black mane over his eye, greeting me with a whinny. He was the spitting image of the horse that inspired the animated movie-- Spirit, thus earning him the name.
“How’s Hallow Ranch?” Pop asked.
I lifted the saddle over the stall door. “Things are good. The herd is doing well, and the calves are healthy.”
“I’m sensing a but in there somewhere.”
I snatched a green apple from Spirit’s bag, ignoring his stare as I filled Pop in on the grizzly sighting.
“Sounds like he’s looking for a female,” he noted quietly.
“There’s something else I need to ask you about, Pop.”
“What is it?”
I opened my mouth, ready to tell him about Denver’s weird behavior in the field a few days ago, but before I could, Lance and Lawson came into the barn then, bickering about the poker game I’d beaten them in last night.
“Tell you in a second,” I muttered as I lifted the apple to Spirit. Like the hungry boy he was, he took it in a flash.
“Sup, pretty boy?” Lawson greeted, pushing his hair back before dropping his hat on his head.
I lifted my chin to the twins. “Talking to Pop.”
Lance grinned. “What’s up, old man? How’s the trip?” he asked loudly.
Fucking idiot.
I put the phone on speaker so the twins could catch up with Pop while I saddled my horse.
“You boys are always getting into trouble,” Pop muttered as Lawson chuckled.
“How else are we going to keep you entertained?” Lance asked, moving to his horse’s stall.
It took a few minutes, but once I had the barn to myself again, I put the phone back to my ear.
“I take it your alone now?” Pop guessed.
“Yeah, I didn’t want to say this in front of them. You know how they get when things seem off,” I said, walking Spirit out of his stall, his hooves clicking against the floorboards of the barn.
“Off?” Suddenly, his casual relaxed tone disappeared. “What are you talking about, Son?”
I walked out of the barn, the early morning sun shining down on me, the sky bright blue, the grass in the pastures a vibrant green. Up by the main house, Denver sat atop Ranger, looking down at Valerie and their baby girl. I didn’t have to see his face to know he was smiling. That was the only time he ever fully smiled—at his wife and children.
“It’s about Denver. He said something the other day when we were moving the herd,” I began. “He said something was coming. He could feel it.”
Pop was quiet for a few moments as I mounted Spirit, holding the reins in one hand, the other holding my phone to my ear. I looked back up to the main house, studying my boss more closely as I added, “Denver looked spooked, Pop. I hadn’t seen him like that since—”
“—since the day Valerie was kidnapped,” he finished for me.
“Did he tell you anything before you left? Or Mason?”
Mason was currently bull riding for the Pbr, and his wife, Harmony, was traveling with him. They wouldn’t be back until next month. He and my father were close. Then again, Pop was more of a father to the Langston brothers than John Langston ever was. I was practically raised on this ranch. Pop was John’s best friend until something snapped in John the night his wife, Denver and Mason’s mother, was murdered by poachers.
John turned vile—mean. When I was boy, I was honestly scared of him. He was part of the reason my mother didn’t want me coming to the ranch with Pop on the weekends.
“No, he hasn’t said anything to me,” Pop answered.
“What do you think about it?” I asked before clicking my tongue and kicking my feet, urging Spirit to walk. He walked us out of the main corral where we kept the cattle for treatments and into the first pasture.
“I don’t know what to think of that, but Denver has always had good intuition. So whatever he’s feeling, we need to trust it.”
I muttered a curse under my breath. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”
“Do I need to come home?” he asked, his voice soft.
I looked up to the mountain, a lump growing in my throat. “No, no. You stay there. I know you need this time with Mom. You deserve a break from all this,” I assured him. “I just wanted to run this by you.”
“Alright then.”
Suddenly, hooves pounding against the ground came up behind me and I saw Denver and Ranger flying towards me.
“I gotta go, Pop.”
“Go do your cowboy shit, Son. I’ll be home in a few days.”
I hung up the phone and pocketed it just as Denver flew past me, hollering over his shoulder. “Get a move on, Beau!”
As he rounded the bend, I adjusted my hat and leaned down to talk to Spirit. “You see how Ranger runs super fast? That would be you if you’d stop being such a lazy bum.”
He groaned, blowing out this nose and flipping his mane. He was the sassiest horse I’d ever ridden, but hell, I loved him all the same—even though he was a pain in my fucking ass.
“Come on, boy,” I ordered. “We have work to do.” I snapped the reins, and we were off—not as fast as Ranger, but we made good time. It only took us ten minutes to get to the herd, and by the time we got there, all the cowboys were standing over a carcass.
“For fuck’s sake,” I groaned, Spirit trotting up to the group.
Mags was leaning forward on his saddle, resting his arms on the horn, his jaw working as he chewed his gum. Lance took his hat off, his eyes solemn as he stared down at the body. Lawson looked up to the sky, his jaw tight as Denver shook his head, muttering, “Fucking hell.”
The carcass was once a calf. The middle of it’s body was caved in, blood covering the dark fur, most of the organs eaten. Flies and ants had staked their claim. I exhaled and looked at the herd, my eyes scanning for the mother. When I spotted her, my chest ached.
In the end, half of these cattle were going to be sold for profit, and we’d never see them again. I shouldn’t have any emotional ties to them, but they were still animals. Innocent. They also felt emotions, which meant the mother would be in mourning. She was standing on the edge of the herd, facing us, standing still as a statue. She had a white spot on above her right eye. I ducked my head, closing my eyes for a moment.
“I helped birth this one,” I said, looking back up to the cowboys. All of them stared at me from behind their sunglasses.
“How old was it?” Denver asked.
“Tag number is 445,” Mags answered, sitting up and rolling his neck.
“It’s four months old,” I answered.
Lawson leaned back, reaching into his saddle bag and pulled out a clipboard and pen. “I’ll get it updated in the system tonight.”
Last year, Lawson developed a tracking system on his computer. It kept track of the cattle tag numbers, health, age, weight. He was working on developing a patent for it, and then he was going to try and sell it to other ranches across the country. He already had one of the biggest ranches in Wyoming interested.
Denver nodded and clicked his tongue, looking at me. “Guess that grizzly’s here to stay.”
“I can call Chase and get the wildlife warden out here,” I offered. The only reason why we didn’t call the warden directly was because he was a fucking dick. He hated everything about Hallow Ranch. So we let the Hayden Sheriff, Chase Bowen, be the ins and outs of communication for us.
“Do it,” Denver ordered, looking back to the herd. “We need to move them again.”
“On it,” Lance muttered, gathering his reins. “Come on, Lady.”
Mags said nothing, only snapping his reins before his horse, Midnight, trotted away, leaving Lawson, Denver, and me alone.
“How many is that this year, Lawson?” Denver asked as I pulled out the satellite phone, dialing Chase’s number.
“That’s the fifth calf, Den.”
My boss looked up to the sky, reaching back to adjust his hat. “Five calves,” he repeated.
“Where do you want to move the herd?” Lawson asked, closing his saddle back and grabbing his reins before turning his horse to face the herd.
“Move them to three.”
“This is Sheriff Bowen,” Chase answered on the fifth ring.
“What took you so long?” I asked, shooting Denver a look.
“Beau? What’s going on?” he demanded.
“Need you to call Forest Ranger Dipshit and have him send a team out here,” I told him.
Chase sighed. “Beau, you have got to stop calling him that.”
“I don’t have to do anything, Bowen. We have a dead calf, and I spotted a grizzly on the property a few days ago. We think he’s looking for a female.”
“Fine. I’ll give Paul a call, but when he gets out there, could you do me a favor? Be fucking nice to him.”
“Cowboys aren’t nice to assholes,” Denver said from beside me, watching the herd still.
My lips twitched. “You get that, Chase?”
“I hate both of you,” he said before hanging up.
“He’s in a mood,” I said, putting the phone away.
“Always is this time of year,” Denver rumbled, looking down the carcass.
My eyes followed his. “You want me to take care of it?”
He shook his head. “Leave it. Maybe the damn thing will come back for seconds. The body is only a few hours old.”
Denver moved away then, heading to the herd, and I remained still, staring down at the blood-soaked grass. Life and death. It was a constant cycle, never ending.
Swallowing, I looked over the mother, who still hadn’t moved despite the herd slowly being shuffled away from her. Her eyes were on her baby, her ears twitching. Sighing, I turned Spirit to face her and slowly guided us to her. She didn’t flinch or run, remaining perfectly still.
“I’m sorry, mama,” I said to her, Spirit circling her.
My chest still ached as I lassoed her, and led her out of the field, leaving her baby to rot beneath the sweltering summer sun.
“Hey Beau!” Caleb shouted from the front porch swing, waving a thick book in his hand.
I gave him a half-smile, jerking my chin. “What are you reading, kid?” I asked, closing the distance to the porch, stopping at the bottom step. Valerie needed help with the kitchen sink and Denver was dealing with the Ranger Dipshit still, so he sent me back here to help her out.
“Reading The Book Thief ,” he answered, opening the book up again.
I lifted my brows. “Really?”
Caleb’s brows furrowed as he read a page, nodding. “Yeah, I have to do a report on it by the end of the summer.”
The front door opened to reveal Valerie, who wore a lilac sundress with tiny white daisies on it. Her green eyes were bright today, her long, dark hair twisted back, leaving a few strays hanging around her face as she beamed at me. Despite the light in her eyes, I could still see the sadness flickering within them. The third anniversary of her mother’s death was approaching and every year, the woman who lit up Denver’s world dimmed a little. “Hey, Beau.”
I tipped my hat to her. “Hey, Val,” I murmured. I looked around her, searching for the wild, adorable toddler I’d come to love so dearly. “Where’s NJ?”
“She’s napping—finally,” Val said, laughing a bit. She looked over to her stepson, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh. You’ve already started, Caleb?”
He looked up from his book. “I wanted to get it done and get the essay out of the way. There’s no sense waiting until August to start,” he told her, sounding more and more like his father than ever before.
She looked over to me. “That kid is going to rule the world one day.”
“Or run a prison gang,” I added.
Valerie threw her head back, and a rich, pretty laugh came from her. My chest warmed. It was always nice to see Valerie laugh, after everything she’d been through. “What’s going on with the sink?”
“There’s a leaky pipe,” she told me, standing aside and gesturing for me to enter the house. “I told Denver it could wait. I’m sorry he sent you out here in the middle of a work day.”
I chuckled. “Val, I would much rather be working on a sink than dealing with that damn warden, I assure you,” I said, stepping into the house and veering left through the foyer and into the big, green kitchen. I pulled my hat off and hung it on one of the hooks on the wall, the floorboards creaking underneath my weight, my spurs clicking with each step.
This house was nearly one hundred years old, and my favorite part about it was this kitchen. A few years back, Denver replaced the old counter with a thick slab of butcher block and painted the cabinets a shade of green that reminded me of the forest. I rounded the island and got down to inspect the damage under the sink. Valerie had already emptied the cabinet and placed a bowl under the leaking pipe to catch the water.
I twisted my neck, sliding my head under it to see the damage, and silently cursed.
The metal was eroded, leaving a small crack in the pipe.
I got out of the cabinet and sat up, pulling out my phone and shooting a quick text to Denver, explaining the situation.
“It’s bad, huh?” Valerie guessed from behind me, but I could hear the smile in her voice.
I looked at her over my shoulder, shooting her a knowing look. “When Denver remodeled this kitchen, he didn’t replace the piping, and now he’s paying for it.”
She smiled at the mention of her husband. “You saying he should have?”
“I told him to do it,” I said, sighing. “He didn’t listen to me.”
“He’s a stubborn man.”
I rose to my feet with a grunt, my lower back aching. “Yeah, but you love him,” I said, moving around the island. “Y’all still keep his tool bag in the laundry room?” I was already making my way down the hall as she told me yes. Once I entered the small room, I couldn’t help but smile at all the tiny pink and purple clothes filling the basket on top of the dryer.
Once, this house was filled with nothing but pain, a lonely man and a little boy. Now, it was filled with warmth and love. Whether Valerie knew it or not, the Hallow Ranch cowboys were forever in her debt. She brought this ranch back to life, and Harmony, Mason’s wife, brought the family back together. We owed a lot to those women, and we’d be damned if we let anything happen to them.
I opened the cabinets above the washer and grabbed the old, leather tool bag. As I brought it down, a piece of paper fluttered from the shelf, falling slowly before landing on top of the washer, face down. With a furrowed brow, I set the bag on the floor by my boots, the tools clanking inside of it, and picked up the paper.
It wasn’t paper.
It was a photograph.
One that contained a beautiful memory…
My eyes studied the two people in the photo: a younger me, bright eyed and ready to take on the world with the girl standing beside me. She was cheesing hard, her ponytail lopsided, her cheeks red from the summer heat. Behind us was the stream where we’d just taken a swim, and on the ground beside us was a picnic I’d gotten together for the both of us. I’d taken the photo on a shitty disposable camera with a self-timer on it from the Hayden drug store.
I’d picked her up from her mother’s old trailer in my father’s truck. Fuck, I could practically hear the low rumbling of the engine and the squeak of the passenger door as I opened it for her. My eyes dropped down to the soaked dress she was wearing, the ends of it clinging to her thighs in a way that drove me mad.
I proposed to her the day after I’d taken this photo, ready to give her the goddamn world, and she destroyed mine with a single word.
No.