Cag #3
The night air is cool, drifting in through the cracked window of the loft. I can hear the distant lowing of the cattle, the sound of the wind through the pines. It’s a peaceful sound, but I know it’s just the eye of the storm.
The surveyor will be back. Black Aspen will send someone worse.
And when they come, they’re going to find out what happens when you try to take something from a Kramer.
I glance over at the cot. Juliette is fast asleep, her face relaxed, a slight flush still on her cheeks from earlier. My cock stirs again, a slow, heavy throb. The restraint is killing me. The need to be inside her, to fill her with everything I am, is a physical weight in the room.
But I’ll wait. I’ll give her time to decide whether this can become more than the place she escaped to.
I start to carve, the thin curls of wood falling to the floor like snow. Each stroke of the knife is a vow. Each shaving is a promise.
I’m still carrying what happened at that altar, but it no longer feels like the only future I’m allowed to have. Now there’s Juliette, and I intend to stand beside her.
And anyone who comes to tear it down had better come ready.
The hours tick by, marked by the slow movement of the moon across the sky. My hands are steady, my mind focused. The magnolia starts to take shape in the wood—delicate petals, a sturdy stem. It’s a contradiction, just like her.
As the first hints of grey start to touch the horizon, I set the knife down. The flower isn't finished yet, but the foundation is there. The heart of it is solid.
I stand up and stretch, my muscles groaning. I walk over to the window and look out over the ranch. The western quarter lies pale beneath the pre-dawn light, and ranch hands are already checking every tank and irrigation line. The threat is real. The clock is ticking.
But then I feel a hand on my back.
I turn to find Juliette standing behind me, her eyes still sleepy, her feet bare on the wooden floor.
"You didn't sleep," she says softly.
"I didn't need to."
She looks at the piece of wood in my hand, her eyes widening. "Is that...?"
"A magnolia," I say, handing it to her. "For you."
She takes it, her fingers tracing the rough-hewn petals. "It’s beautiful, Cag. Truly beautiful."
"It’s not finished yet," I remind her.
"I know," she says, looking up at me. "But we have time. Don't we?"
I look out at the drying land, then back at the girl who’s become my entire world in the space of two days.
"We have time enough to do this right," I say, even with the fight already moving toward us.
I pull her into my arms, the scent of her filling my head, drowning out the smell of dust and dry earth. The water threat is real, but so is the resolve settling inside me.
And as the sun starts to rise over Pine Ridge, I know one thing for certain.
I’m never letting her go.
Not for water. Not for land. Not for anything.
She’s mine.
And the world is just going to have to deal with it.
The tension in the room is thick enough to taste, a heady mix of yesterday's heat and today's resolve. I can feel the weight of her against me, her heart beating a steady rhythm against my chest. It’s a sound I want to hear every morning for the rest of my life.
I think about the cabin in the back pasture. The one with the unfinished walls and the roof that’s only half-shingled. I haven't been there in years. I couldn't bear to look at the skeleton of a dream that died.
But as I hold Juliette, the thought of that cabin doesn't hurt anymore. It feels like a challenge. A project. Something that’s waiting for me to come back and finish what I started.
"Cag?" she whispers, her head resting on my shoulder.
"Yeah, princess?"
"What happens now?"
I look out at the horizon, where the sky is turning a pale, hopeful gold.
"Now," I say, my voice firm. "We fight. And we win."
Because a Kramer doesn’t stop fighting when he’s found something worth keeping.
And Juliette?
She’s the woman I’ll stand beside while I fight for every acre on this ridge.
I press a kiss to the top of her head, the silkiness of her hair a stark contrast to the rough wood in my hand. The battle lines are drawn. The enemy is at the gates.
But for now, in the quiet of the loft, it’s just us.
And that’s enough.
It has to be.
I lead her back to the cot, tucking her back in as the light grows stronger. The day is going to be long. There are tanks to check, records to search, lawyers to call, and brothers to stand beside.
But as I walk down the ladder to the tack room, the half-finished magnolia tucked safely in my pocket, I don't feel like the man who was left behind.
I feel like a man who’s finally found his way home.
And I dare the world to step into the road.
The air in the barn is cool and damp, the smell of hay and horses a grounding presence. I walk to the large double doors and swing them open, letting the morning light flood in.
I see Benjamin out by the fences, his silhouette familiar against the rising sun. He looks over and nods, a silent acknowledgment of the storm we’re both facing.
I nod back, then head toward the workshop.
The hawk and magnolia wait at my bench. For once, I know I’ll return to both. And there’s a life to build.
One stroke of the knife at a time.