Chapter 10
Asher
The morning starts before the sun. I'm out by the east paddock with a mug of coffee that's gone cold, watching the sky bleed pale pink into the edges of the hills.
There's peace in that silence, in the hush of waking earth and cattle lowing in the distance.
I don't get many moments like this lately.
Not with the way things are shifting around here. Not with her in my head.
Sipping what's left of my coffee, I turn toward the barn. That's when I hear it. The sharp, pained whinny of a horse.
I drop the mug. It lands in the dirt with a dull thud and rolls away as I sprint toward the sound.
It's Duke. One of our oldest working horses. Strong as hell but getting on in years. He's favoring his left hind leg, trembling and wide-eyed. I slow as I approach, arms out, murmuring low to settle him. He shifts and snorts, sweat lacing his coat even in the early chill.
"Easy, boy. I got you," I whisper.
I crouch and examine the leg. There's swelling near the hock, angry-looking. Not a cut or abrasion, but something deep. A twist, maybe. A strain.
Shit.
I don't waste time. Pulling out my phone, I scroll until I find the number in my contacts.
Cade.
The new vet, who came highly recommended by everyone from the feed store clerk to my youngest brother.
He picks up on the second ring. "Morning, Walker Lake Ranch Vet. Cade speaking."
"It's Asher over at Silver Cattle Ranch. I've got a problem with one of my old horses. Swollen hock, favoring the leg, came on fast overnight while he was in his stall. Think you can come out?"
"On my way," he says. No hesitation. No nonsense. I give him directions, and we hang up.
I tap my contacts again and call Finn. He answers on the second ring.
"Everything okay?" he asks.
"Got a situation with Duke. Swollen hock, looks bad. Vet's on the way, but I could use a hand. Can you and Zach get down to the barn?"
"Be there in five," he says. I hang up and turn my attention back to Duke again, stroking his neck to keep him calm. My phone stays in my hand, just in case.
I hear the familiar sound of boots on gravel before I see them. Finn and Zach jog up just as Cade's truck pulls into the drive. They slip into the barn with practiced ease, nodding to me and settling near Duke—quiet, steady support.
When Cade arrives, I head out to greet him. He's in a dirty pickup with a toolbox in the back and a calmness in his posture that settles me even before he speaks. He's younger than I expected. Maybe early thirties. Wears confidence like a second skin.
"Where is he?" he asks.
"Stall three. Duke. My brothers are with him."
Following me inside, he crouches by the gelding without fuss. He murmurs as he examines the leg, his fingers gentle but firm. Duke doesn't flinch. I watch closely. Cade knows what he's doing.
"Swelling has localized. It could be a sprain or an early tendon strain. I'll run a flex test, maybe an ultrasound. We caught it quickly. That's good."
I nod. "Can he recover?"
Cade glances up. "If he rests, gets the right treatment, and you follow protocol to the letter, yes. Even older guys like this can make a full recovery."
I rub the back of my neck. "We'll do whatever it takes."
My brothers agree with me, and Cade sets to work. While he moves between treatments, I watch. There's a rhythm to him; it’s obvious he's done this a thousand times. The way he speaks to Duke, calm and low, the way he handles the equipment like it's an extension of himself.
"You've got good hands," I say.
He chuckles. "My younger brother says it's the first time I've ever used them for something that mattered."
I raise a brow. "That right?"
"Yeah. He plays pro ball. NFL. Always thought I was wasting potential in vet school. Guess he finally came around when I fixed his dog's dislocated hip."
The name Cade had mentioned when we first talked clicks into place.
I remember watching his brother play on Sunday afternoons.
One of those rare talents that makes it all look easy.
I remember the headlines. The interviews.
The fame. It's a strange contrast to see his brother here now, grounded, steady, and covered in horse hair and dust. It makes me think about the choices people make.
How one brother can chase stadium lights while the other finds purpose in the quiet steadiness of healing.
I grin. "That'll do it."
He smiles, just a flicker. "Animals don't lie. That's what I like about this work. You listen close enough, they always tell you what they need."
I nod slowly. That hits harder than I want it to. Maybe because I've been tangled in words lately. Words that meant one thing at night, through a screen, and something else entirely in daylight. Maybe because Kassi still lingers in the back of my mind like a half-finished thought.
We finish wrapping Duke's leg and get him settled with strict instructions for rest and limited movement. Cade hands me a packet of notes.
"Text me if anything changes," he says.
"Will do."
"Thank you, Cade," I say, voice raw. It comes out rougher than intended. He meets my gaze for a second, a flicker in his eyes—empathy, maybe, or something like it.
He loads up his gear and drives off, leaving me alone with Zach and Finn.
Zach crosses his arms and leans against the stall. "He seems solid. You trust him?"
I know he's talking about Cade. He's new to town and will have to prove himself not just to us but to all the ranchers. Next time we are in town, word will have already spread that Cade has been to our ranch, and we’ll be peppered with questions, but we will be ready.
"Yeah," I say. "Knows his stuff. Doesn't waste time."
Finn crouches beside Duke again, gently stroking his neck. "Poor guy. He'll pull through, though. He's a tough old thing."
Zach glances at me. "You good? You've been kind of... off lately."
I shrug, trying to play it off. "Just a lot on my mind."
Finn straightens. "If this is about Kassi, say so. We're not blind, Ash."
I give them a look but don't answer. Not really. Just shake my head. "Let's focus on Duke."
They don't push it, sharing a glance, then nodding. After a minute, Finn claps me on the shoulder. "We'll give you some space."
Zach adds, "Call if you need anything."
They head out, boots scuffing on the barn floor, leaving me alone with Duke.
I stay with Duke a while longer, watching him doze under the warm hum of the overhead fan. My hand rests on his side, feeling the rise and fall of his breath, the steady heartbeat, familiar and uncomplicated.
This ranch has seen so much. Seasons of growth and decay. It all moves so fast. One minute you're standing in the middle of it, full of fight and vision. Next, you're clinging to what's left, trying to make it enough.
I step outside into the daylight. The sun is full now, cresting over the hills with the kind of beauty that demands attention. I pause at the gate, one hand on the worn wood, and let myself breathe it in.
Fleeting. All of it. The strength of a good horse. The steadiness of family. The flicker of connection with someone you're not sure you're supposed to want.
I think of her. Of the way her eyes met mine yesterday, full of fire and regret.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, thumb hovering before I open the screen. No new message, just the last one she sent last night.
Sunshine: Goodnight, Bear.
The ache in my chest sharpens. I scroll down, then slowly type:
Me: Had a scare with one of our old horses this morning, but Duke's okay. Scared me, though.
It takes a minute, but then the reply comes.
Sunshine: I'm glad he's alright. He's a good one.
Me: So is his vet. Young new guy. Knew his stuff.
Sunshine: You'll have to tell me more sometime.
I don't answer. Not right away. I let the screen go dark and slip the phone back into my pocket, heart heavier than it was before.
I’m not sure what to do with that. Don't know if Bear and Asher can ever be the same man in her eyes. But I want to try even if it's foolish and fleeting.
I turn back toward the barn, toward the ranch, toward the life I know how to live. One hoofbeat, one heartbeat, and one day at a time.