Chapter 39 #2
“Sir…” He clears his throat. “I-I was…uh…”
“Take a deep breath and fill me in,” I grit out.
Daniel swallows hard. “I was working the south pasture like you asked, and the fence…it’s cut again.”
I take a deep breath, pinching my nose between my fingers.
“There’s more, sir.”
“What?” I snap, patience abandoned.
“You’re gonna want to see this.”
I glance toward Grandpa. He’s a few steps away, taking a sip from the hose.
Daniel rattles off his location in the field, and I nod along. Anger thrums, causing my limbs to shake. I don’t take well to people messing with what’s mine. First, Wren. Now, my farm. Motherfucker has a death wish, and I’m the Grim Reaper.
“I’m on my way,” I hiss.
I end the call and slide my phone into my pocket before shutting off the hose. My pulse ticks loud enough I worry Grandpa can hear it.
“Sounds like trouble.”
I shake my head. “Just a fence.”
“Boy, I didn’t make it this long by living with my head in the clouds.”
I drag the hose toward the truck, coiling it with more force than necessary. “I’ll run you back to the house. No sense in staying in this heat.”
He fixes me with a look. “Cut the shit.”
I exhale deeply. “Grandpa—”
“This is still my land. I deserve to know the shit you’re dealing with.”
I resign, knowing he’s right. I fire up the truck and haul ass to the south pasture.
“What do we have?” I ask, even though the cut in the fence is obvious. Precise, clean cuts line the right side of the fence post.
Daniel’s face is pale as he stands off to the side. Ron, my foreman, claps him on the back as he strides over to Grandpa and me.
Grandpa crouches, fingers brushing the severed metal, his mouth in a thin line. I can feel the anger seeping from his weathered skin. He studies the cuts, even though we both know the truth.
Ron stands off to the side as Grandpa works his jaw. Muscles jump beneath his creased skin as he grinds his teeth—the tell-tale sign he’s stressed. I flinch, worried he’s going to crack a molar.
“This isn’t the first time,” he states, not a question.
“No,” I supply, no sense in lying.
He looks at me, watching for any cracks in my truth. “How long?”
I shift on my feet. “Since someone started hassling Wren.”
“Dammit, Jett.”
I pace with my hands on my hips. “I know.”
Ron clears his throat, as if we forgot he was standing there. How could we with the dark cloud hanging over his head?
“There’s more, boss…” He glances between us. “Bosses.”
I huff a curse as I stare at my foreman, gaze landing on my farmhand who looks like he’s seen a goddamn ghost. I don’t have time for ghosts. Not with a monster on the loose.
“Do you see that?” Grandpa’s voice slices through the air, sharp and troublesome. Ron flinches at the question as I squint in the distance, past Daniel.
This field should be full of black hides gleaming in the sunlight, tails flicking lazily, keeping the flies at bay.
My pulse kicks at the missing Angus herd. I squint past Daniel and spot her.
Down on her side in the grass, a massive body still except for the shallow rise and fall of her ribcage. I spot the rest farther back, giving her space.
“Jesus Christ,” I breathe.
I’m moving before the words finish leaving my mouth.
“That’s why we called,” Ron wheezes beside me.
“Damn, man. Have you heard of cardio?”
He grunts beside me as I try to lighten the mood. I know what I’m going to find is going to make me sick. I need a moment to gather myself.
Footsteps sound behind me, and I glance over my shoulder. I nearly trip over my footing as I watch Grandpa jog after us.
I slow my pace and wait for him.
“Easy,” I mutter, but he’s right behind me.
The air feels heavier the farther we walk into the pasture. July doesn’t give mercy, especially not to black-hided cattle. Angus absorb heat fast—without enough water, without the ability to regulate, they crash hard.
Is she dehydrated? Is it my fault? I’ve stuck to a watering schedule, but I know my mind has been elsewhere. I don’t think I’ve missed this pasture, but can I be certain?
By the time we reach her, bile’s crept up my throat.
She doesn’t try to rise. Deep brown orbs stare up at me, laced in pain. Foam crusts at the edge of her mouth. But it’s what's coating her stomach that has us cursing.
Blood. So much blood.
Dark and tacky, smeared through her hide.
I drop to a knee, and she flinches weakly when I touch her.
“Hey, sweet girl,” I coo, a slight tremble to my voice as something feral coils in my gut. “I’ve got you.”
“Jett.”
I jerk at Grandpa’s voice as he examines her stomach.
“What?”
He doesn't answer, and I follow his sight.
My gut twists, churning at knife marks carved into her brilliant hide.
Multiple shallow slashes, deliberate and angled, enough to bleed her out slowly if infection or shock sets in. Whoever did this knew not to kill her. They wanted damage—to send a message. Well, it’s been received, loud and clear, and I’ve got one for them.
No one touches what’s mine.
“Fuck!” I scream. My voice echoes in the distance as I rip my hat off my head and toss it.
Grandpa’s fists clench at his sides. “This bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.”
Blood pounds in my ears. “They’re not after the cattle.”
He shakes his head.
“They’re after what’s mine,” I grit out.
The words hang between us for a second. I allow my mind to drift to the cottage—the open windows and roses, the way she looks over her shoulder without realizing it, and the shadows clouding her whiskey eyes.
This is an escalation, and it’s time to make a call.
“Call the vet. Get him out here now.” I direct my demand to Ron before turning to a pale-faced Daniel. “I understand this is hard to see, but you need to let it go. Call Silo Bay PD. Tell them I demanded you talk to Davis Baldwin. Fill him in, only him.”
Grandpa falls in step beside me as we make our way toward the truck.
I fish out my cell phone, scrolling through contacts until I find the one I need.
I haven’t seen him in years, but I know he’s into some shady things and has connections outside of local law enforcement.
He’s able to track down people not necessarily legally.
“Yeah,” comes the low, raspy voice on the other end. Tate Blackwood’s voice hasn’t changed a beat since we last talked during deployment. Deep and gravelly, like he smokes a pack or two a day. Hell, given his job, he might.
“It’s me,” I say.
Silence follows.
“I need your help.”
The sound of a lighter sparking fills the silence. “Figured you did.”
I sigh, glancing behind me at my herd. The poor girl was lying in a pool of her own blood. “Someone cut my fence and stabbed one of my cows.”
“Seems like something the local PD can handle,” Blackwood grits out.
“It’s not an isolated incident. My girl—”
“There it is.”
“There’s what?”
“The real reason you’re calling me for help.”
He’s right. If Wren wasn’t tied to this, I’d leave it up to Davis to solve, but I don’t have time to wait. Not with him escalating.
“Wren’s back.”
He chuckles, low and lifeless. “The one who got away.”
“Yeah. Only, she’s got a situation. Her ex, he was—” I glance over to Grandpa, who’s toeing dirt with his boot, pretending not to eavesdrop.
“He abused her. Bad. When she left, he didn’t like it.
He found her here and is stalking her. The incidents on the farm hadn’t occurred until she was experiencing issues. ”
He hums. “Send me everything.”
I let out a deep exhale, grateful my old friend is helping.
“I will. He’s escalating.”
“Then you’re right to call,” he answers, exhaling a plume of smoke. “I’ll start digging.”
I end the call and slide the phone into my pocket, the air around me suddenly charged with the kind of danger I recognize all too well. It’s the buzz before a mission, when danger looms in the distance as the enemy lies in wait.
Too bad he’s messed with the wrong person.
Grandpa steps closer, resting a weathered hand on my shoulder.
“Proud of you.”
I huff a humorless laugh. “For what?”
“Not handling this alone. Not sure who you called, but it sounds like someone who knows how to get the job done.”
I nod once. Elias Hearst won’t be able to hide for long, not with Tate Blackwood on the hunt.
I’ll tell Wren about the cow, but not until the festival is over. She loves the Fourth of July, and I won’t ruin it for her. I won’t let her out of my sight, though.
We’ll get through our day together and all the plans we have with our friends. Saving all the other bullshit for another day. My girl deserves a day to relax…stress free.