Chapter 9 Havoc
Havoc
By the time I reach the farmhouse, the whole place feels wrong.
Too quiet.
Too tense.
Aspen is standing in the yard, arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying to hold the world together.
Dylan is beside her, gripping Buddy’s collar.
The dog isn’t wagging.
He’s staring toward the mountain.
I step out of the truck.
“What happened?”
Aspen turns toward me, and for a second, I see the fear she’s trying so hard to hide.
“He’s gone,” she says. “The back door was open. The pasture gate too.”
My brain shifts gears instantly.
Search mode.
“How long?”
“Maybe twenty minutes.”
That’s good.
That’s very good.
Still close.
Still findable.
Wolf pulls up behind me in his truck.
Saint, Trigger, and Rylie roll in seconds later.
Aspen’s eyes widen slightly as the vehicles arrive one after another.
Men stepping out.
Moving with purpose.
Quiet.
Efficient.
Like they’ve done this a thousand times.
Because we have.
I turn back to her.
“Does he usually head somewhere when he wanders?”
She shakes her head.
“Sometimes he thinks he’s going to the barn. Sometimes he thinks he’s walking to town.”
Buddy suddenly pulls against Dylan’s grip.
Hard.
His ears are locked toward the tree line.
Dylan looks up.
“He smells Grandpa.”
Wolf kneels beside the dog.
“You think he can track him?”
Buddy whines and pulls again.
“That’s a yes,” Saint says.
I look at Aspen.
“Does grandpa respond to his name?”
“Harold,” she says quickly. “Harold Gray.”
I nod.
“Alright.”
Then the old rhythm slides back into place.
Command.
“Wolf, you take the west trail.”
“Saint, sweep the ridge.”
“Rylie, stay with Aspen and Dylan.”
They move instantly.
No hesitation.
No questions.
Aspen watches them go, something like disbelief crossing her face.
“You guys… do this a lot?” she asks quietly.
I glance toward the mountain.
“Something like that.”
Buddy lets out a sharp bark and drags Dylan forward.
“He’s got something!” Dylan says.
I glance at the kid.
“You want to help us find him?”
Dylan nods so hard his hair flops.
“Yes.”
“Then you stay beside me the whole time, understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
Aspen hesitates.
Fear flashes in her eyes.
But she looks at the mountain.
Then at me.
“I’m coming too,” she says.
I shake my head immediately. “No.”
My chest tightens. “He’s my responsibility.”
“And it’s my search.”
Dylan’s voice breaks behind me. “Mom… he’s lost out there.”
That does it.
She stepped forward, her voice shaking—but firm.
“Dylan already lost his father,” she says. “I’m not letting him lose his grandpa too.”
Silence falls.
I studies her.
She doesn’t back down.
Because this isn’t about being brave.
It’s about being a mother.
“I’m going,” she repeats. “For him.”
Her eyes flash.
For a second I think we’re about to argue.
Then Buddy pulls again.
Harder.
Whining.
Aspen exhales slowly.
But her voice drops to steel.
I study her for a moment.
She’s exhausted.
Grieving.
Overwhelmed.
And still standing there ready to climb a mountain for an old man who isn’t even related to her by blood.
Tank would’ve loved her. He did love her.
I sigh.
“Stay close,” I tell her.
Then I turn toward the trees.
“Alright,” I say.
“Let’s go find Harold.”
Buddy bolts forward.
And the Rangers move out behind him.