Chapter 2 Joseph
two
Joseph
I've been watching this stubborn woman try to steal my prize mare for ten minutes, and I still can't decide if I should shoot her or applaud her technique.
She's good, quiet, patient, and a method that says she's had some training with animals. But she's also desperate, which makes people sloppy. I could have put a bullet in her from the barn door, and she never would have seen it coming.
Instead, I find myself studying the way she talks to Sunshine, whispering apologies like the horse can understand her guilt.
Something about that careful gentleness, even in the middle of committing theft, reminds me of myself three years ago when raiders overran my family's spread and left me with nothing but determination and a stubborn refusal to die.
When she spins around at my voice, improvised weapon in hand but shaking from exhaustion, I get my first good look at her face. Young—mid-twenties maybe. Pretty, under the dirt and desperation. Brown hair escaping from a messy braid, green eyes wide with fear and defiance in equal measure.
She's got guts, I'll give her that. Even facing down a rifle, she doesn't immediately drop the knife or start begging. Just calculates her odds, finds them wanting, and starts negotiating.
Smart woman.
Too bad she's a horse thief.
"Dead serious," I tell her when she questions my offer. "One month of honest work, and Sunshine's yours."
It's an impulse decision, the kind I usually avoid. But something about Rebecca Rennick—the way she admits to four days of walking, the mention of the Iron Wolves hitting Clearwater, the careful way she handles my horse despite trying to steal her—makes me think she might be worth the risk.
Besides, I really do need the help. Running twenty head of cattle alone is a constant challenge, and having an extra pair of hands would make the difference between thriving and just surviving.
She agrees, which surprises me more than it should. Most people would have run by now, taken their chances with the wilderness rather than trust a stranger who caught them in a crime.
Rebecca follows me to the house, Sunshine trailing behind us like she's already accepted the change in routine.
I can feel her eyes noticing everything—the solar panels on the roof, the vegetable garden, the chicken coop, the obvious signs that this isn't just a survival shelter but a working operation.
"This is incredible," she says as I lead her inside. "How long have you been here?"
"Three years. Built most of it myself." I gesture toward the kitchen table. "Sit. You look like you're about to collapse."
She does, gratefully, and I get my first chance to really assess what I've just taken on.
She's thinner than she should be, hollow-eyed from exhaustion and stress.
Her clothes are torn and filthy, her boots held together with what looks like duct tape and prayer.
But underneath the damage, there's steel.
She made it four days through hostile territory on foot. That takes more than luck.
"I'll make something to eat," I say, moving to the stove. "You allergic to anything?"
"At this point, I'll eat tree bark if you salt it."
I actually smile at that. "Won't be necessary. Got stew from yesterday. Bread's only two days old."
"Bread." She says it like I just offered her gold bars. "Real bread?"
"I trade with a woman down in the valley. She's got wheat, I've got beef. Three pounds of meat for five pounds of flour last month." I ladle stew into a bowl, add a thick slice of bread on the side. "Fair exchange in the new economy."
She takes the bowl with hands that shake slightly, whether from exhaustion or hunger, I can't tell. The first bite makes her moan out loud, a sound that does something unexpected to my stomach.
"Easy," I warn, settling across from her with my own bowl. "You eat too fast after not eating, you'll just bring it back up."
She nods but doesn't slow down much. I let her eat in silence, using the time to study her more carefully. There's something about her that says she wasn't just another settler scratching out survival in Clearwater.
"What did you do?" I ask when she finally slows down. "Before."
"Veterinary school. Three years in before everything went to hell." She tears off another piece of bread. "You?"
"Ranch hand. Worked my family's place until the Silver Creek Raiders decided they liked our land better than their own."
"I'm sorry."
"Long time ago." Though it doesn't feel like it some days. "What made you choose Clearwater?"
"They needed someone with medical training, even incomplete. I could treat basic injuries, help with births—human and animal both. Seemed like a good fit."
"Until four days ago."
Her face goes tight. "Iron Wolves showed up and took over. No negotiation, no warning. I grabbed what I could and ran."
"Smart. The Wolves don't take prisoners, don't leave witnesses if they can help it."
"You know them?"
"Know of them. They've been moving through the territory for six months, taking over smaller settlements. Usually, they just demand tribute. Half your supplies, some of your people. But lately..." I shrug. "Lately they've been less interested in negotiation."
She's quiet for a moment, processing that. "Do you think they'll come here?"
It's the question I've been asking myself since she mentioned Clearwater.
My operation isn't exactly secret—I trade regularly with Old Pines and two other settlements.
Word gets around. And twenty head of cattle might not sound like much, but it's steady protein in a world where that's worth its weight in gold. Or more, because you can’t eat gold.
"Maybe," I say honestly. "That's why I keep the herd in the back pastures, and move them regularly. Harder to spot from the main trails."
"But not impossible."
"Nothing's impossible. Just more or less likely." I lean back in my chair, studying her. "Question is, are you going to help or hinder if they do show up?"
She meets my eyes steadily. "I don't run from fights I can win."
"And if you can't win?"
"Then I run tactically. Big difference."
I find myself grinning. "Good answer."
She almost smiles back, and for a moment, the exhaustion and wariness lift from her face. She's prettier than I thought—not just pretty, but striking. The kind of woman who'd turn heads in the old world, and definitely the kind who'll cause complications in my carefully ordered new one.
But complications might be worth it, if she can really pull her weight around here.
"So," she says, finishing the last of her bread. "What exactly does one month of ranch work entail?"
"Cattle management, mainly. Moving herds between pastures, checking fences, basic veterinary care." I pause. "You ever ridden a horse?"
"Some. It's been a while."
"You'll need to get comfortable fast. Most of the work's done on horseback."
"What about predators? Not just human ones."
"Wolves, mostly. Some coyotes. The occasional cougar, though they usually stick to smaller prey." I drain the last of my coffee. "Nothing a rifle can't handle, if you know how to use one."
"I can shoot."
"How well?"
"Well enough to keep your cattle from becoming predator food."
Another good answer. I'm starting to think this arrangement might actually work out.
"All right," I say, standing. "Guest room's upstairs, second door on the right. Bathroom's across the hall—water's solar heated, so there should be enough for a shower. Tomorrow we'll see how much you remember about handling animals."
She stands too, swaying slightly. Now that she's got food in her, the exhaustion is hitting her hard.
"Joseph." She stops at the bottom of the stairs, one hand on the banister. "Thank you. For the chance."
"Don't thank me yet. Ask me again in thirty days."
"Will you regret this?"
It's a fair question. Taking in strays is dangerous because you never know what kind of trouble they might bring, what secrets they might be hiding. And Rebecca Rennick, for all her apparent honesty, is still essentially a stranger I caught trying to steal my most valuable possession.
But looking at her now, worn out but not broken, grateful but not subservient, I find I'm more intrigued than worried.
"Ask me in thirty days," I repeat.
She nods and heads upstairs. I listen to her footsteps overhead, the sound of the shower running, then silence. Probably asleep before her head hit the pillow.
I finish cleaning up the kitchen, check the simple security setup I've got around the property, and make my evening rounds. The cattle are settled in the back pasture where they're hidden from casual view. The perimeter is quiet. Everything's as it should be.