Chapter Twelve
Caleb remembered little of the ride back across the pasture because every thought returned to the sight of Amy standing beside the cut fence with Noah and Maggie close by.
Years of habit still made him count the cattle as they guided them through the gap and back into the pasture. His eyes measured the damaged wire and splintered posts, yet his mind refused to move beyond the instant he'd seen them near the creek.
Once the last animal wandered clear of the opening, Russ rode to the barn for fencing supplies while Caleb pulled the broken wire free and straightened the leaning posts.
By the time Russ returned with a fresh coil of wire, a pouch of staples, and the fencing tools, Caleb's pulse had settled just enough to put his hands to work.
The fear still sat beneath his skin while he stretched the new wire between the posts, turning every spike of fear into another reason to pull harder.
Russ drove a staple into the nearest post, then glanced at Caleb's work. “You planning to flatten that one into the wood, or would you like it to hold the wire?”
Caleb looked down and saw that the staple had folded beneath his hammer. He growled, wrenching it free and tossed it into the grass. “It would’ve held.”
“It would’ve made a fine decoration.” Russ selected another staple from the pouch on his belt and held it out. “Try this one.”
Caleb accepted it without answering The echo-repeated strike of their hammers carried across the creek, joined by the low calls of cows searching for their calves.
Russ rested his arms along the top wire and studied Caleb with the patient expression he usually saved for stubborn horses. “You frightened her, you know.”
Caleb secured the wire around the next post. “I frightened everyone.”
“And you know I was speaking about Amy, though the children didn’t look pleased with you either.”
“She shouldn’t have brought them this far from the house.” Caleb tested the wire with one hand, though he already knew it was secure.
Russ shifted his weight against the post. “She took them walking through the cottonwoods, which hardly sounds reckless.”
“Whoever cut the fence could’ve still been nearby,” Caleb insisted. “Making it dangerous.”
Russ watched him for a long beat before asking, “Did you ever tell Amy about the danger?”
Caleb turned toward him, frustration stirring because he already knew where the conversation was headed. “She didn't know enough to recognize the danger.”
“Exactly,” Russ said. “She couldn't recognize a danger nobody bothered to explain.”
Caleb gripped the fencing pliers a little harder. “You think I should've filled her head with every rumor drifting through Copper Bend?”
Russ pushed away from the fence and brushed the dust from his gloves.
“I think you should've told her enough to keep herself and those children safe. You left her responsible for Noah and Maggie, then expected her to make the right decision without giving her the facts. She grew up in a town with books, Amy, not cattle rustlers and cut fences.”
Caleb looked across the pasture where the creek cut through the grass. “She could've turned back when she saw the cattle.”
“She did better than that,” Russ replied. “She stopped Noah from crossing the creek and kept Maggie close while she figured out what she'd found.”
Caleb knew Russ wasn't accusing him unfairly.
He was pointing at the truth Caleb had been trying to outrun ever since he'd barked at Amy. Amy had acted with more sense than many people raised around cattle, yet he’d greeted her with anger because fear had taken hold before reason could reach him, and the memory left a sour taste in his mouth every time he replayed it.
“I just wanted to keep them safe,” he grumbled.
Russ’s expression softened, though his voice remained firm. “Then you’d best learn the difference between protecting a woman and making her sorry she tried to help you.”
Caleb looked down, avoiding Russ’ eyes, and began winding the spare wire into a coil. "Whoever cut that fence knew where it'd do the most damage."
Russ gathered the bent staples into his palm. "That's what worries me."
“If Amy or the children had come upon the man responsible, we might be having a different conversation.”
Russ crouched to collect the discarded staples. “And a horse could throw one of them tomorrow, but I doubt you’ll forbid them from going near the barn.”
“That isn’t the same!”
“A snake could be hiding beneath the porch steps, but I don’t see you tearing the house apart.”
Caleb gave him a hard look. “Fine. You’ve made your point.”
Russ rose, the faint crease beside his mouth suggesting he disagreed. “I’ve made part of it, which is all a man can manage when you’re this determined to argue.”
The wind moved through the tall grass along the creek, bending every stem before allowing it to rise again. Caleb watched the motion, and tried to push away the memory of Amy’s startled face when he’d demanded to know why she’d brought the children so far.
Russ followed his gaze. "You saw them standing there and imagined what could've happened."
Caleb kept coiling the wire silently, though his hands slowed.
Russ rested his hands on the fence. "I've seen you angry plenty of times. That wasn't anger."
Caleb gave him a sidelong look. “How long have you been saving that line?”
“I considered holding onto it even longer, but the situation seemed urgent.”
A reluctant breath of amusement left Caleb, though it faded as quickly as it came. “I don’t need a lecture.”
"I figured you'd argue either way, so I might as well do it now."
Caleb finished the coil and tied it up with a short length of wire. Russ’s humor carried no cruelty, which left him with nowhere to direct the anger still stirring inside him.
Russ glanced toward the ranch house in the distance. “Amy’s been here little more than a month, and the place already feels brand new.”
Caleb reached for the hammer he’d left beside the post. “She’s worked hard.”
“That’s a poor way to describe it.” Russ took off his hat and brushed dust from the brim. "The children don't scatter every time you walk into the yard anymore. Maggie's started smiling again, and Noah's talking instead of glaring at everybody who comes near him."
Caleb looked toward the distant roofline. Smoke rose from the chimney, fading into the pale afternoon sky.
“She’s done nothing except help since the day she arrived,” Russ continued. “You hid the children from her, gave her a house half-buried beneath neglect, then had the gall to be surprised when she stayed and made herself useful.”
He pressed his lips together in irritation. “I didn’t ask her to fix anything.”
“She didn’t do it because you asked.” Russ settled his hat back into place. “She did it because she cares, which seems to be the part giving you trouble. And I’m sure you haven’t thanked her for it.”
Caleb opened his mouth to remind Russ the fence had been cut and the children had been standing yards away.
The words stalled. Russ already knew that, and none of it changed the way Amy had looked at him.
He saw Amy beside Buttercup in his mind, laughing after the cow swept her tail across Amy’s shoulder.
He remembered how carefully she’d listened while Noah explained the proper way to strain fresh milk, treating the boy’s knowledge as valuable rather than childish.
Maggie had begun reaching for Amy’s hand without hesitation, and the house now carried laughter through rooms that had been quiet since Jonah’s death.
Amy had even managed to turn bedtime into an adventure when Caleb had only tangled it into tears and frustration.
She'd protected the children the way he'd trusted her to, and instead of thanking her for bringing them home safely, he'd left her carrying the blame for a crime neither of them had seen coming.
“I know,” Caleb said, his voice rougher than he intended.
Russ studied him before giving a slow nod. "That's a relief. I was running out of ways to say the same thing."
Caleb gathered the tools and started toward the horses. “You should rest when we get home.”
“I might, provided you don’t frighten Daisy with all that brooding.”
The ride back to the ranch felt longer than the distance should’ve allowed. Caleb let Daisy choose an easy pace while the sun lowered over the cottonwoods and shadows stretched across the yard. The longer it took to reach the house, the longer he could put off facing Amy.
Buttercup grazed inside the smaller corral, and smoke drifted from the kitchen chimney. Maggie’s rag doll rested on the porch swing with one cloth arm hanging toward the floor. The familiar scene should’ve eased him, yet the cut wire still gleamed in his thoughts.
He left Russ near the bunkhouse and led Daisy into the barn, where he removed her saddle before rubbing the mare down. She leaned into the brush with a contented sigh, unconcerned by fences or men who used fear as an excuse for anger.
Caleb lifted the saddle and carried it toward the tack room, but a faint sound from the loft stopped him near the doorway.
Someone was trying very hard to cry without being heard.
He lowered the saddle onto its stand and looked toward the ladder. “Noah?” he called, trying to keep his voice as gentle as possible.
The loft remained quiet, though the silence felt deliberate.
Caleb slowly climbed the ladder and found the boy wedged between two bales of hay near the corner where Jonah used to repair harness leather during bad weather. Noah had drawn his knees close and buried part of his face against his sleeve.
When he noticed Caleb, he wiped his eyes with an impatient swipe. “I’m fine.”
Caleb recognized the falsity in those words because he’d spent most of his life using them whenever the truth felt too dangerous to admit.
He sat on an overturned wooden crate several feet away, leaving enough distance for Noah to decide whether he wanted company or not.
Dust floated through the fading light from the loft window, settling across the hay and the worn floorboards.