Chapter 5
Chapter Five
SOFIE
I load up Julep’s saddle bags with my tools, extra work gloves, sunscreen, and lunch. After Linnie mounts Cocoa, I check his cinch strap.
“Why can’t Jesse come too?” Linnie asks.
“Kind of hard to ride with an arm in a sling.” Though Jesse usually does more filming than helping, I miss him too.
“Your hand’s broke and you’re doing it,” she says.
“It’s not broken,” I reply, correcting her country twang. “Plus, we only have two horses.”
“Maybe Neve will buy him one,” Linn replies, her tone sour.
I shoot her a warning look.
She fiddles with the reins, her mouth scrunching.
I finish adjusting my stirrups when my phone vibrates in my pocket.
It’s a text from Gabe.
Are you riding today?
I slip the phone back in my pocket and free Julep’s reins, then turn her toward the trail and climb on.
We cross the road, the horses’ hooves clip-clopping on the dry pavement, to the trail. I lead, ascending at first a steep rise, then after we cross the creek, through a meadow dotted with sage and tall, dry grass the color of honey. By the end of next month, this meadow will be covered in snow, and my volunteering with The Winter Range Project will pause until it melts. I should have already quit—we’re well into hunting season now—but the work is too important.
Gabe’s message hums through my thoughts. He’s probably guiding hunting clients today and is trying to find out where my dad might be patrolling. If I’m on horseback, it means the conservation officer isn’t , which likely indicates something useful to Gabe and Sage Creek Outfitters.
This isn’t the first time he’s tried to needle me for intel. Nobody wants to see the game warden while they’re out hunting, even if everything’s legit.
There’s also another possibility why Gabe’s asking where I am, but I don’t want to think about that right now.
Julep’s saddle squeaks with her steady gait. The aspen leaves tremble in the soft breeze, creating a mirage of rippling yellow. We spook a grouse deeper into the trees. Julep plods on, unimpressed. We follow the Finn River Ranch perimeter fencing built responsibly thanks to their partnership with The Winter Range Project, then turn onto a double track. Linnie comes alongside.
The valley narrows, and we slip into the shadows of the pines. Coils of old barbed wire are stacked in tidy heaps against the trunks of the bigger trees, ready for pickup.
The sound of rockfall draws my attention. Above us, the sparse trees give way to a rocky slope that rises to mountaintops out of sight.
Julep pricks her ears. I pause in the saddle, but there’s only the wind and the trickle of the creek below. Hunters don’t usually like this valley. It’s too tight, and with the confusing borders with Finn River Ranch, staying inside the limits of public property is too much trouble for most of them.
But it’s prime elk habitat, so maybe someone’s troubling with it today.
“Let’s put on our vests,” I say to Linnie, reaching into my right-side saddlebag.
“Aw,” Linnie complains.
“Come on.” I hand the smaller one to her .
Reluctantly, she slips it on. “I’m hungry.”
“Almost there.” I smile at her.
She nudges Cocoa on.
“You want to play Rabbit or Robot?” I ask.
Her eyes light up. “Yeah.”
“You want to start?”
“Okay. Ask.”
“Rabbit or Robot?” I give Julep a soft squeeze of my heels to catch up. Her ears are no longer pricked, but she’s funneling some of her attention toward where we heard the rockfall. I focus on the guessing game with Linnie, but when we pass the path of the rock, I glance up. There’s a gap in the trees to the broken face of the mountain, the pale granite alternating between smooth planes and gritty chutes where bits of loose rock have slid down. I see nothing out of place, yet I can’t shake the tension in my shoulders. Maybe I should have asked Dad to bring Fergie along with us today.
The trail parallels the creek for another mile before breaking into a broad plain of sparse trees and tall, dead grass mixed with bitterbrush and sage. It smells of warmed pine and dust. I dismount and string a rope between two trees, then halter Julep to it and help with Cocoa.
Linnie grabs the cookies and the canteen and settles in the shade.
I grab my gloves and pliers and pull my hat low over my eyes, then start removing the steel fasteners on a post. The rusted, old wire is taut and stiff and, in some places, pulled so tight due to age that cutting it is dangerous. Linnie only gets to do the coiling.
It’s slow, tedious work and turns up the ache in my left hand to a noticeable throbbing. The fencing bisects an open meadow, which means soon I’m leaving the shade behind. The hum of a motor rises above the hush of the creek below us.
“What’s that?” Linnie asks, squinting at the broad slope across the valley.
I follow her gaze while wrestling a bottom row of wire from a stubborn sagebrush. “Probably someone from the ranch.”
Linnie frowns. “Out here?”
“Finn River owns everything on the other side of the river.”
“Oh.” She squints again. “Do they hunt there? ”
With a pop, the wire breaks free, thankfully not springing the rest of the fence into my face. “They can give permission.”
“Do they?”
“I don’t know. Ask Dad.” The minute I say it, I regret my frustrated tone. “We don’t get a say. The land belongs to them.”
Linnie’s mouth tightens. “The animals were here first.”
“The animals still have lots of places left.” This is why The Winter Range Project is so important. The Idaho Fish & Wildlife Department estimates there are over 5,000 miles of old barbed wire blocking migration routes. If the deer and elk can’t get to their winter ranges, they won’t survive the long winters.
I no longer hear the engine, but whoever’s driving might be tucked into one of the gulches farther up the valley.
We finish the section spanning the meadow and eat lunch in a shady spot where we can play a pebble-tossing game I made up for Linnea when she was little. I don’t notice the hum of a truck’s engine until it’s practically upon us, with a plume of dust rising up behind it. It’s a silver Finn River Ranch work truck.
In the back are barbed wire and stacks of sanded fence posts—the kind in use all over the ranch. The kind I’ve been lobbying to replace.
What the hell?
It’s as if the driver feels my eyes on him because he glances up. Though the cab is shaded, I know that face.
Zach.
I stare, frozen in place, as Zach turns away and accelerates over a rise, leaving only the dust whirling in his wake.
If Linnie wasn’t with me, I’d be tempted to follow him.
What the hell is he doing in Finn River? Where did he come from? And why is he building fences when Finn River Ranch has pledged to support the needs of the wild animals who need access to their winter ranges?
But I don’t have the ability to give chase. I don’t even know how to track Zach down. It’s been a week since he started Stu’s mystery “in the field” project, but no sign of him since. I want him to explain that look he gave me. Am I supposed to forget he saved my life?
There has to be a way to find out more about him.
But first, I’m going to find out where the ranch is building new fencing.
“You feel like exploring for a bit before we get back to work?”
Linnie’s eyes light up. “Yeah!”
I offer her my hand to help her up. “Let’s go.”
The horses are reluctant to leave their shady spot, but we get underway soon enough. An afternoon breeze brings the scent of the high country—cool and flinty.
We ride for an hour, following the old sheep fencing until it butts up against a rock outcropping. From the tufts of fur caught on the metal post bent with age and the game trail leading into the mountains, it’s clear wildlife slip through the gap. I’m scanning the length of Finn River Ranch fencing, looking for the answer to my question, when Linnie draws in a quick breath.
Julep pricks her ears and jerks her head a split second before I see the bundle.
“What’s that?” Linnie asks.
“Someone’s camp,” I reply. Dad runs into these sometimes. I’ll need to tell him about it.
I spur Julep on. We skirt the lower edge of the rock outcropping and stop at the edge of the trees, where a faded green tarp partially covers an equally faded bedroll and what looks like a mesh bag of dried pinto beans. Is this camp related to the spooky rockfall we heard earlier? A shiver runs down my spine. I’m glad I don’t have to confront whoever’s living here. But it means we should probably turn around before we do.
I pick up Ava at her dad’s since it’s on the way to the ranch and she promised me donuts. The mountain peaks are kissed with crimson in the early dawn, and by the time we pull away from the curb, the stars have melted into the sky.
“Brrr,” Ava says, shivering in her thick wool jacket and scarf, her blonde hair whipping about her face.
“Wimp,” I tease as she buckles. “We’re barely past Halloween. ”
She rolls her eyes. “Says the toughest woman I know.”
I slow to a stop at a red light. “You’re no slouch, yourself.”
“Studying doesn’t count.”
“Don’t give me that crap. It does, too.” I accelerate through the intersection and then turn left on Walnut.
“Tell that to the admissions department.”
“You’re going to rock the MCAT.” Unlike me, Ava stuck it out in college. At the rate I’m going, by the time I finish my degree, she’ll already be a pediatrician.
“Hutch is coming home tomorrow,” Ava says.
“Sweet.” I give my friend a quick glance. Ava is close to Hutch in a way the rest of us aren’t, but she rarely opens up about it. “How much leave does he get this time?”
“A few weeks, but you know how it is.”
“Maybe he can help you study,” I say, unable to keep the teasing edge from my tone.
Ava side-eyes me. “I’m sure he has better things to do while he’s home.”
“There is nothing better in this town than you.”
She laughs as I pull into the parking lot in front of Glory Holes. It’s packed, but I spot an opening between a dusty hatchback and?—
“Shit.”
“What?” Ava glances at me, then the truck. “Oh. Is that…?”
“Gabe’s truck? Yeah.”
“We don’t have to stop.”
The glow from Glory Holes’ big windows is like a beacon in the pale dawn. I don’t want to clash with Gabe today, but I can’t avoid him forever. “It’s okay.”
“Did he ever apologize?” Ava asks, her nostrils flaring. “Last time I checked, dancing is a form of self-expression, not foreplay.”
Maybe that’s where I went wrong. One minute, I was lost to the music, feeling carefree and happy, and then next, Gabe was grinding into me from behind, his arms keeping me firmly in place. I didn’t panic until I realized Jesse was gone and I was separated from my friends.
What if Gabe tampered with Jesse’s tox screen as some kind of apology for going too far that night ?
“He brought me flowers in the hospital. He was really worried.” The second I say it, I wish I could take it back. It sounds so lame.
“Worried about his dick, more likely.”
I sigh, but my true feelings on this aren’t as easily settled.
We cross the gritty parking lot. Ava pulls open the door, the blast of warm, cinnamon-sugar-scented air pulling me back to the shop. The espresso machine whirs and a cash register snaps shut. The steady din of conversation and laughter is like a warm, cozy hug.
Gabe is seated at one of the middle tables next to his boss. Across from them are a pair of hunting clients. Gabe’s gaze flicks to mine. I try to read him, but he refocuses on his clients, smiling at something one of them says.
“What should we get?” Ava scans the glass case. The top row contains a dozen plus varieties of donut holes, from powdered to apple fritter to plain. My favorites are Fudge Heaven—chocolate with vanilla glaze and chocolate sprinkles, or the Cherry Popper, which is an almondy vanilla donut rolled in sugar with a sweet cherry filling. When these are warm, they are pure bliss.
The middle row is for donuts, bars, and the rotating special. This week, it’s Pumpkin Cheesecake. My mouth starts to water.
As we browse and shuffle forward in line, the helpers behind the counter are a blur filling orders or restocking the case.
Miranda, who runs Glory Holes with her husband, Nate, gives us a smile. “Morning! What’ll it be today?”
Ava orders a Pumpkin Cheesecake and a couple of plain cake holes.
“A Half Glory for me,” I say. “Three Cherry Poppers, two Fudge Heaven, and one plain.”
“And two coffees,” Ava adds.
“You got it,” Miranda says while a helper snaps open a paper bag and starts filling our order.
Ava insists on paying, so I scan for an open table. Gabe’s gaze finds mine again, but I head toward the empty two-top along the opposite side of the shop.
Ava arrives with our bag of donuts and napkins.
“Any more Zach sightings?” she asks while I reach into the bag. I set two Cherry Poppers and one Fudge Heaven on a napkin .
Ava and our other friend Kirilee are the only two people who know that the same guy who came to my rescue at Burnout’s show and pulled me out of the sinking Jeep is working at Finn River Ranch.
“Not since that day I was out with Linnie,” I say. The barista calls our coffee order, and I jump up to grab the two for-here mugs.
“Ooooh, Kirilee’s been busy,” Ava says when I slide our mugs to the table. “These are new.”
“Love the turquoise on yours.” I cradle the hand-thrown mug made by our friend. “She mentioned applying for a booth at the Autumn Festival this year.”
Ava narrows her brown eyes. “I’m ready to do it for her.”
“And steal her glory like that? You wouldn’t.”
“Truth. Speaking of glory…” She bites into her pumpkin cheesecake donut. Her eyes flutter closed and she moans. “Ohmigawd, I could die.”
With a laugh, I blow across my coffee and savor a sip. It’s rich and hot. Glory’s is the only coffee I don’t drink with milk or cream. It’s that good. I bite through my Cherry Popper and sigh with delight, but the sound is lost to the whir of the espresso machine and the snap of tissue paper and conversation swirling around us.
“Could you ask Kirilee?” Ava asks in a low tone.
“About Zach?” I ask after swallowing the rest of my Cherry Popper. Kirilee’s dad owns Finn River Ranch. “I doubt she has access to personnel records. And I don’t want to stir up trouble for her.”
“True. What about that horse guy?” Ava leans on her elbows, cradling her coffee. “He was the one who carried you up that bank. Why not go out there to thank him, see if he remembers anything about your hero?”
It’s not a bad idea. “The reporters already pestered him, though. Won’t it be weird if I show up six weeks later?”
“A thank you is always appreciated. And it’s not like you’ve been sitting around.”
She’s right. Between working full-time, caring for Lin, worrying about Jesse, and volunteering with The Winter Range Project, I don’t exactly have idle time.
“Okay,” I say. “Linnie’s at a friend’s house today. Maybe I’ll drop by. ”
“Attagirl.”
I laugh. While I pack up the rest of our donuts for later, Ava clears our table and then slips into the restroom. I shuffle past the patrons waiting in line for donuts and slip out the door. Outside, the brisk air feels good on my warm cheeks. I’m still thinking about Zach and my afternoon expedition to the horse ranch that I forget all about Gabe.
He’s leaning against his truck in the gap between our cars, a paper cup of coffee in his hand.
The initial chill from the air erupts down my arms and spine.
“Good to see you, Sofie.” He watches me while taking a slow sip of his coffee.
I set the bag of donuts on the top of my car so I can dig my keys from my purse. “Looks like you’ve got clients today.”
He purses his lips. “How’s Jesse doing?”
I’m not telling him shit. Not until I know what he wants.
“Why didn’t you answer my text on Sunday?” he asks.
“Because it’s none of your business?”
He chuckles, but there’s no humor in his eyes. “You sure about that?”
Asking him about Jesse’s tox screen is on the tip of my tongue. “We’re through. You know that, right?”
He shuffles his feet, then glances up, his eyes hard. “So you can ride that security guard’s dick instead?”
I’m too shocked to come up with a reply.
“Yeah, I know he’s here. I also know you bought him breakfast at that diner.”
“This has nothing to do with Zach.”
He raises an eyebrow, like he’s just scored a point. Crap! I just admitted to knowing his name.
“Go ahead and do what you want,” Gabe says, his tone cruel. “But I won’t be there to pull you out of the gutter this time. And yeah, that includes Jesse.”
Stung, I look away, but before I can reply, Ava hurries over. “Back off, Gabe.”
Gabe downs the last of his coffee and then saunters past us. “Have a good day, ladies.”
Once I’m sure he’s gone, I grab the bag of donuts and slip inside the car. There’s a tight buzzing in my chest, but I shake it off with a deep breath.
“I’m proud of you for standing up to that asshole,” Ava says once she’s settled in the passenger side.
What I told Gabe about being done with him is true, yet that last threat rings tight and hot in my mind. Like a bell struck too hard.
“He knows Zach is in Finn River.”
She gives me a snarky look. “What did I tell you? In Gabe’s pea-sized brain, Zach is a threat. As if you aren’t allowed to make up your own mind.”
“He could hurt me if he wanted.” I eye Ava as a heavy weight drops through me. Gabe knows exactly how deep my insecurities run. I wish I could take back the way I trusted him. I wish I could take back a lot of things. “Like, really hurt me.”
“We won’t let that happen, okay? Between me, Hutch, and Kirilee, we got you.”
Though I smile at my friend, doubt is creeping into my gut. I don’t have a problem standing up to Gabe as long as the consequences don’t rip apart my family. “Powered by Glory Holes, we can take on anything, right?”
“You know it.”