2. Bryn
TWO
Bryn
I wasn’t what most people would describe as sociable.
Yes, I was friendly. I could carry a conversation. The issue was what the conversation was about.
The topic was usually frogs.
Since I was a little girl in Ireland, I’d been odd.
My parents knew it. My whole extended family knew it.
I was the girl who felt compelled at all times to reach out and grab anything that moved: mice, rabbits, lizards.
When I was seven, my mother had screamed to high heaven when I brought in a lizard and insisted that his name was George and that he was going to live with us now.
After a great deal of fuss, she’d finally relented.
George—who I later learned was a girl—ended up having her babies in a terrarium in my room. George’s progeny still lived with my younger sister in Dublin.
Meanwhile, I’d gotten myself to Florida as quickly as possible for my undergraduate degree in Biology, because that was where I understood there to be the most dangerous and grabbable animals.
A research job between undergrad and graduate school miraculously resulted in only one dangerous snake bite.
After that, I’d decided that maybe frogs were more my speed.
Specifically, the cliff chirping frog.
The frog currently held in a container in my lap, now that my pack was in the back of Stetson’s truck.
“So your family—” I started, looking over at him. “You all live on this land?”
Stetson shook his head. “Too much family for that, but…me and two of my cousins, plus two other on and off. My cousin Forrest and his wife Willa used to live on the property, but they recently got their own place in town with their daughter.”
“And the other cousins?”
“Gage and Millie live in the main house with their three kids; Wyatt and Haven have been adding onto a house near the barn. My cousin Sawyer lives in town with his wife Daniela when they’re not workin’ on movies, and my little cousin Dakota when he’s not doin’ rodeo—”
“You can’t be real,” I cut him off.
Stetson snorted. “What?”
“You’re an actual cowboy,” I said. “With…” I looked out the window, then, and my jaw dropped. “You actually raise longhorns here?”
“You didn’t notice when you were trespassing?”
“I was looking at frogs,” I said. “Not cattle.”
“Fair.”
“How many?”
“Hundred eighty head, give or take.”
I twisted around to look through the back window, past Buck in the back seat. Longhorns stood scattered across the pasture, horns catching the light.
“I”ve never seen one up close,” I said. “Only Bevo at the football games. They’re beautiful, but…scary.”
“They’re for show, mostly. Longhorns are tough. Handle the heat and the scrub better than most breeds.”
“You know all their names?”
“Not a one.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “None of them?”
“Cattle aren’t pets.” Stetson glanced down at my frog. “What’s the frog’s name?”
“I haven’t named it,” I replied. “Naming it implies I’m keeping it.”
“Why wouldn’t you keep it?”
“Because it needs to go back to its family,” I shrugged. “This is a critically small species. And…I only have room in my heart for George.”
Stetson frowned. “Boyfriend?”
“No,” I snorted. “George is a lizard I caught when I was a child. I’ve been raising her offspring ever since—ten generations now.”
He pulled into a gravel drive, dust rising behind the truck. Buck sat up, ears forward.
“So no boyfriend,” he said.
“Ex. Recently.”
“Recently recently?”
“Last month,” I said, plastering a smile on my face. “But…why do you ask?”
“Just don't like the idea of a man letting his girl go off into the middle of nowhere alone.”
I laughed out loud. “Thank goodness I had a cowboy with a gun to save me!”
He scowled. That seemed to be his typical mode of existence. “Actually, though. Could’ve gotten stuck out there and drowned.”
“I’m sure I would have found some way out.”
“Confident,” he huffed. “Dangerous thing to be when you’re in land you don’t know.”
He parked in front of the main house—a picturesque ranch home with cedar posts, a wraparound porch, and a dog bed tucked in next to a porch swing. He got out without a word, then opened the door for me.
Glanced down.
Saw I was bleeding through my sock.
“I’m carryin’ you in,” he said. “Won’t take no for an answer.”
“I’m fine.”
“Foot’s a mess.”
“Thank you, but really I’m—”
I clutched my frog to my chest as he pulled me out by the waist and slung me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Didn’t say a word; I was too stunned to speak, quite frankly. Buck jumped out of the car after me, and I watched his tail wag in delight at my misfortune.
Then we were through the door, the whole space alive with movement and sound.
First thing I heard was the happy shrieking of a baby—then another one.
Then a woman’s voice, then footsteps coming toward the door.
We turned left in the entry, into a kitchen with a table covered with large styrofoam puzzle pieces, and Stetson put me down on a chair.
I was still getting my bearings when a woman with brown skin and curly black hair came into view, her belly swollen, another baby on her hip.
“Who’s this?” she asked.
“Millie,” Stetson nodded. “This is Bryn Donnelly. She was trespassing out at the creek and got hurt. Haven around?”
“Willa and I are on babysitting duty today while Haven and Wyatt tend to the cattle, but I can give her a call,” Millie said. “But…do we need to call the police—?”
“I wasn’t trespassing,” I cut in. “I’m a biologist—I was looking for frogs.”
A little girl rocketed out from behind Millie like she’d been summoned. “FROGS?!”
“Yes, frogs!” I confirmed, nodding vigorously. I put my cup down on the table. “Do you want to see?”
The little girl raced forward, the woman—who I assumed was either her mother or her aunt—letting out a hapless, “Bea, wait!”
It didn’t work. The promise of frogs was too tempting to ignore.
The adults went about their business, but I was also distracted at that point, given that there was a person here with nearly as much enthusiasm as me. I opened the lid carefully, just a centimeter or so, and looked inside. The frog was jostled, but fine.
“He’s a Holt Creek Chirping Frog,” I whispered to the little girl, who was rapt as she looked inside.
“Holt!” Her eyes bugged out. “That’s my name!”
“That’s right—because your family named the creek he lives in.”
“Is it his real name?”
“Not officially. I made it up.”
“Why?”
“Because nobody knows if he has a real name yet. I have to prove it first.”
“Prove what?”
“That he’s not like other frogs.”
Bea considered this. “He looks the same as other frogs.”
I shook my head. “He’s smaller and makes a different sound. See—this is a normal chirping frog—” I imitated their call. Bea laughed. “And he makes one more like this.” I then imitated the other call.
“That sounds the same.”
“Fair enough. I’m not very good at frog noises, I guess.”
“Try it again.”
I did. Same result.
“Nope. Not good.”
“You have a future in peer review.”
“What’s peer review?”
“A group of people who tell you you’re wrong for a living.”
Millie set the other baby down in a bouncer by the counter and came over, one hand braced on her back. “Bea, let the lady breathe.”
“She’s showing me frogs.”
“I can see that.” Millie looked from me to the frog. “So is this just an intellectual exercise or is there a reason for it?”
“It’s for the water rights,” I said—then paused, narrowing my eyes at them. “Wait…is it you all doing this? Because if it is, I would love it if you’d hear my case for why we need to protect the spring upstream—”
“Someone’s petitioning for the water rights?” Stetson cut in.
I looked between him and Millie. “You…wait. You didn’t know?”
Millie shook her head as Stetson paced closer to me.
“Explain,” he said.
“There’s a filing.” I set the frog down and sealed the lid again, then I reached for my phone. “Public notice, groundwater district. Someone’s inquiring about the spring up past the north fence..”
“Who?”
“An LLC. That’s normal at the inquiry stage.” I found the photo and held it out. “I thought this was something you must already be dealing with you, since I assume you use that water for the ranch…?”
Stetson took the phone and read over it, Millie leaning in to look too. Bea tugged on my sleeve, eyes fixed on the frog.
“Can I have him?” she whispered.
“Maybe I’ll bring some back for you after my quest is finished,” I whispered back.
“Can I come—?”
“It’s fuckin’ Arlo again,” Stetson cursed.
“Language,” Millie hissed, as Bea’s eyes went wide and her hand went out. Stetson growled in response, but jammed his hand into his pocket and pulled out a quarter like he kept them ready.
“Who’s Arlo?” I asked.
“My dad,” Stetson growled. “He tried the land once…now he’s after the water.”
The door opened and we were joined by yet another person from what I was realizing was a truly massive family—this time, a girl who couldn’t be more than twenty-five, carrying a medical kit.
“Stetson bring another stray woman home?” she asked.
“This time she’s a frog scientist rather than a cult escapee,” Millie said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Wow,” the blonde said as she set down her kit in front of me.
I turned in my chair so she could get a better look.
“You must be Haven?” I said.
“That’s me. And you are…?”
“Bryn,” I offered. “The aforementioned frog scientist.”
Haven crouched, unzipped the kit, then took my foot in her hand without asking.
“This needs a couple stitches,” she said. “You up to date on your tetanus shot?”
“Yep.”
“Good.” She paused and turned it toward the light. “Might scar. Hope that’s okay.”
“I truly don’t care.”
Haven got to work, swapping the wound. I kept my eyes off it; I could play brave for the little girl’s sake at least, especially given that she was now fixed on the wound instead of the frog.
“What did you do?” she asked in that adorable little voice.
“I got stuck in some mud,” I said. “Your Uncle Stetson helped me.”
“Uncle Stetson is too cranky to help strangers,” Bea laughed.
He didn’t comment; was still looking at the document on my phone.
“First stitch,” Haven said. “Hold still.”
I held still. It hurt more than expected, but I kept my mouth shut.
A little tear rolled down Bea’s face. “That looks so gross,” she whispered.
“Bea!” Millie said. “You should go find Willa and your cousin—”
“I want to stay with Bryn,” Bea protested, planting herself and making it clear she would not be moved.
“If you don’t watch the stitches, I promise I’ll tell you some more frog facts,” I said. “Would you like some more?”
Bea nodded.
The adults remained distracted.
And I started reciting frog facts, wondering what kind of family drama I’d just stumbled into.