Chapter 16
HARDISON
We walked back toward the house, Diesel grazing lazily nearby, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot the only sound for a few moments. Emberlynn’s hand found mine, warm and steady, and I let her pull me along. Somehow, the quiet made it feel safe to talk.
“You really know your way around a ranch,” she said softly, glancing up at me. “You weren’t kidding when you said you’d been doing this before.”
I gave a small, wry smile. “Silver Creek. That was where I learned everything that I know. A slice of dirt and sky that taught me more than school ever could.”
Her brow lifted, interest piqued. “Silver Creek?”
“Yeah,” I said, settling into the rhythm of the walk. “Family ranch. Cattle, horses, hay fields, every damn thing. I learned the hard way. Every day had a rhythm. Routine. Discipline. And I needed that more than I realized.”
She looked at me, eyes curious but gentle, letting me open up without pressure. “Routine? Discipline?”
I laughed softly, almost bitterly. “Not just chores. Life. I’d come back from a tour—Afghanistan, one of the harder ones—and the nightmares…
the panic attacks… the guilt… I couldn’t breathe without it pressing on me.
” My voice dropped low, heavy. “Silver Creek saved me. Andy Harvey—the old ranch hand, mentor—he didn’t just teach me how to ride, how to rope, how to handle cattle.
He taught me to survive. Taught me discipline, showed me how structure could fight the chaos in my head. ”
Emberlynn squeezed my hand, quiet, letting me keep talking.
“I’d get up before dawn, feed the horses, check the fences, work the fields, handle the cattle.
Everything was accounted for—every bucket, every hoof, every gate.
And at first, it felt like punishment. But slowly…
slowly it became the only thing that made sense.
Routine and repetition gave me ground, gave me control over the part of me that wanted to fall apart. ”
She tilted her head, listening intently. “So it wasn’t just the ranch work. It was… everything about it?”
“Exactly,” I said, stopping for a moment to let the words sink.
“Andy… he was the light in the dark for me. He didn’t ask for thanks.
He just showed up every day, steady, unshakable.
And because of him, because of that discipline, I didn’t lose myself completely.
I learned that even after the war, even after everything you think will break you…
structure, responsibility, caring for something—anything—can save you.
He was always saying… Hard work will allow you to flush out your hopes and dreams.”
Emberlynn’s eyes softened, her hand brushing over mine again. “You’ve carried that with you ever since, haven’t you?”
I nodded, looking out over the pastures stretching into the night.
“Every day. That’s why I’m willing to do everything it takes here.
I found healing in those animals. I always said that if I were given the chance, I’d do right by what I learned.
It’s why I check every animal, every stall, every fence.
Not because I have to. It keeps me steady.
It’s a way to honor the people—Andy, my old crew, the ones I couldn’t save, Elijah.
And now… because it matters to you too.”
She leaned closer, head resting against my shoulder. “I get it. I feel it too… the way you care. And the way you’ve survived. It’s… incredible.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “It’s just life, Emberlynn. Pain, work, love, discipline. You find the things that anchor you, and you hold on.”
Her fingers intertwined with mine, thumb brushing circles over my knuckles. “Then you’ve got me. I’ll be one of those anchors.”
I looked down at her, heart tightening, knowing she meant it. “Good,” I said softly, voice low and rough. “Because I need you to be. And I trust you to hold your place in this life with me.”
The night wrapped around us, cool and quiet, filled with the sounds of the ranch—Diesel’s breathing, the wind through the trees, Emberlynn’s steady presence at my side. I walked us back to the house, where we climbed in bed together and got lost in slumber.
I woke to the sharp crack of wood snapping loudly. My eyes shot open, muscles coiled, every nerve on fire. Sleep evaporated. Something had broken out there, and I had a bad feeling about it. Especially if it was something that I was supposed to protect.
Emberlynn stirred, groaning. “Hardison?”
“Stay down,” I snapped, voice low, clipped.
My boots were on before she even had time to register. I grabbed my flashlight, swinging the beam across the yard, heart hammering—not fear, not exactly, but that tight, unrelenting awareness that comes with being responsible for life. My PTSD, dormant for days, screamed in my chest.
The fence. A section of the pasture fence had collapsed.
Several cattle were bolting, hooves pounding against the hard ground, dust and shadows whipping around them.
Gusts of wind made their alarmed state even worse.
And one goat—a stubborn thing—was tangled in the twisted wire, screaming, thrashing.
“Shit.” My jaw tightened.
I sprinted, adrenaline cutting through exhaustion, hands steady despite the chaos. Diesel’s whinny echoed behind me—he’d followed, somehow loose as well, muscles taut with the same urgency I felt. I shoved my fear deep down. There was no room for it now. Only action.
The goat’s hooves scraped raw against the wire as I grabbed it by the shoulders, forcing it to stay still.
“Easy,” I hissed, voice firm, commanding.
“Easy, damn it!” My hands bled slightly from the metal, but I didn’t care.
I worked fast, untangling wire, holding the goat still.
A flashlight cut across the chaos–Emberlynn–but she stayed back, trusting me.
The rest of the herd was skittish, but I moved like I knew them—sharp commands, controlled gestures, herd instincts, body positioning. I corralled the cattle back toward the pen, not letting a single one break the line. Diesel pressed close to me, ears back, ready for direction.
Finally, with the goat freed and every other animal back in place, I leaned against the other barn post, sweat and dirt streaking my face. My heart was still hammering. The adrenaline didn’t leave. It wouldn’t leave.
I crouched down, careful, murmuring low to keep it calm. The fence post was snapped, with claw marks carved into the wood. My stomach dropped. Wolves.
The goat trembled hard under my hand, and I knew I was out of my depth. A vet wouldn’t get out here tonight, maybe for a couple of days, and the damn animal didn’t have that long.
I pulled out my phone, thumb flying to Andy’s number.
He picked up on the third ring, his voice scratchy with sleep. “Hardison? Everything alright?”
“Barely. I’ve got an injured goat, Andy. Wolves got to the fence. One of them’s down with a torn-up leg. I need to know what the hell to do until a vet can get here.”
That woke him up fast. I heard rustling, like he was sitting up. “Shit. Okay. First, get the goat away from the fence and into shelter. Barn, garage, whatever you got. Keep it separated from the others so they don’t stress it out more.”
“Got it.” I looped an arm around the animal, steady but firm, and carried it toward the barn while Andy rattled instructions.
“You’re gonna need to clean that wound. Warm water, no soap—just flush the dirt out. Do you have iodine or even hydrogen peroxide?”
“Yeah. Barn kits stocked.”
“Good. Flush it, disinfect it, and then wrap it with clean gauze. Not too tight, but snug enough to stop bleeding and keep crap out.”
I laid the goat down on some hay, stroking its head as I set the phone on speaker. “What about pain? It’s shaking.”
“Unless you've got livestock meds on hand, you can’t do much for that right now. But food, water, calm space—it’ll help. You’ll need to reinforce that fence before those wolves circle back.”
I glanced toward the dark line of the trees, the hairs on my neck prickling. “Yeah. They’ll be back.”
“You got tools?”
“Always.”
“Then dig the new post deep. And consider electric wire, if you don’t have it already. Wolves don’t give up easily.”
I huffed a humorless laugh. “Figures.”
The goat settled a little under my hand, its breathing evening out once I had the leg wrapped. Not perfect, but it’d hold.
“It’s wrapped the best I can. Hopefully, I can get someone out here soon.”
“I’m sure you did alright,” Andy said, voice steady in my ear. “Where abouts are you?”
“Florida, near Tallahassee.” I thought I heard something toward the fence, so I stood to look. Nothing that I could see was out there.
“I think I may know somebody. Keep an eye out for infection. Call me if it swells badly or oozes quickly. I’ll let you know what I find out.”
“Appreciate it, Andy.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Reinforce that fence before sunrise, or you’ll be patching up more than one goat next time.”
I hung up, slipped the phone back in my pocket, and sat there for a second in the barn’s quiet. The goat blinked up at me, trusting me in the way only animals and fools do.
When I finally stood, I was already planning the repairs in my head. Reinforced posts. Wire. Maybe motion lights. Wolves wanted my herd—they’d learn quick I wasn’t the man to test.
Still, before I headed back out, I took one last look at the goat, tucked safely in the straw. Callum ran down, late to the party.
“Is everything okay down here?” He looked at my hands, flashing the light on them.
“We have a fence that needs to be looked at to see how it snapped. Then, we need to dig deeper for the posts. We’ll need electrical wiring out here.
Damn wolves are trying to kill off the animals.
We need a vet to come down and look at her.
I can try the one in town in the morning, but I don’t know if she knows anything about goats, and she doesn’t open until eleven. Other than that, for now, all is well.”
“And your hands?” He asked.
I couldn’t look at them right now, but I could feel how raw they were from wrestling with the goat and the wire at the same time. I didn’t want the sight of the blood to send me spiraling.
“I’ll handle his hands.” Emberlynn said easily. I’d forgotten that she was here. She was tucked in a corner watching. “I’ll take care of the hero if you’ve got the goat.” She said to him.
“I do.” He nodded. “I’ll call and get somebody to help down here to calm the animals down and see about that fence, too. I’ll try the vet, too.” Callum didn’t stand around waiting for more instructions. He set right to work.
“Let’s get you taken care of, King,” Emberlynn said to me as she helped me to stand.
I nodded, and let her lead me back. I closed my eyes as she washed my hands in the sink. She disappeared while the cool water rinsed them, and when she returned, she washed them with something. Then the water was off, and she walked me to the kitchen table and got busy bandaging things up.
“More skills you learned at Silver Creek?” She asked.
“Yeah. Getting wound up animals to do what they were supposed to was something you had to know how to do.” I opened my eyes to look at her face.
“No, I meant hearing bumps in the night.” She looked up, and our eyes held.
“You know that’s not how.” I swallowed. “Being ready for combat means hearing stuff that others don’t. The ability to sense and recognize danger is something I already have in me, and the military taught me how to hone in on it. It could be the difference between life and death.”
“Then I bet the goat is grateful that you saved its life. Because it could’ve died tonight. That wire was sharp, and I’m positive that it would have continued to fight it to get out. Even to the point of hurting itself.”
I nodded, knowing she was right.
She finished the last bandage and kissed me quickly. “Let’s go rest, Hardison. I’m sure you’ll be up even earlier to go check on things. I need to feel you close as I get to sleep, before you’re gone for the day.”
“You don’t mind?” I asked, waiting for her to say something about all the time that I’ve recently been putting in on the ranch.
“Why would I?” Her expression was clearly confused. “You need to be where you need to be. I’m not some damsel that needs your attention all the time. I also know that when you’re here with me, you focus on me. I’ve gathered that’s how you are with everything. In the moment. I love that about you.”
God, I loved this woman.
I escorted her down the hall to her bed, where I held her until she fell asleep. Then I followed suit with my head buried in the crook of her neck, settling my world, and righting history.