13
Darana
I need five minutes. Just five. Either that, or someone needs to slap me so I have an excuse to lie down. But I only need five minutes.
That’s what I keep telling myself as I cross the backyard, dodging metal buckets, tools, and a horde of workers rushing back and forth with urgency in their bones.
Birdsong Hills is writhing like a wounded creature that refuses to kick the bucket, and I…
I’m the poor little boss who has to keep barking orders like the iron sergeant I am.
Even though inside, I feel like bursting into tears.
I wonder how much longer I can keep this circus going before it slips through my fingers.
But there are moments when a girl needs to catch her breath if she doesn’t want to commit murder. And my outlet has long ears, a surly face, and a temper that puts the Tasmanian Devil to shame.
“Let’s see…” I murmur, carefully sliding open the wooden latch on the corral. “What a scene you caused last night during the storm, huh, you rascal?”
Angus snaps his head up the moment he sees me.
The damn donkey stares at me with those dark eyes that gleam with a perfect mix of innocence and mischief.
He takes a couple of steps across the straw, snorts, and presses his wet snout right into my hand.
He knows full well I’m carrying contraband in my pockets—the clever little rascal.
“No way, sweetie,” I scold him, holding a finger right under his nose. “First come the cuddles, then the bribes. You know the drill by now, and you’re such an opportunist.”
I move closer slowly, savoring these seconds of peace that are worth their weight in gold.
As soon as he’s close enough, I scratch him behind the ears.
Angus leans toward me with a deep sigh, closing his eyes and letting his ears droop in a sign of surrender.
He’s an emotional blackmailer on hooves, but he suits me just fine.
Because the warmth of his coarse fur anchors me to the ground and makes me forget—even if just for a minute—the apocalypse waiting out there.
“Good thing Ricky brought you in before you got the idea to munch on those cables the wind had blown down,” I add in a whisper. “Otherwise, you would’ve been fried today. And don’t look at me like that.”
The animal snorts loudly, shaking his head as if he understands me.
“Yeah, yeah, now you’re playing the saint,” I continue, giving him an affectionate pat on the neck. “As if I didn’t know you’re a walking public hazard, Angus.”
I pull a good chunk of green apple out of my pocket and offer it to him in the palm of my hand.
He snatches it up with lizard-like speed, making me burst out laughing.
His big teeth gently brush against my skin as he licks his lips, savoring the juice.
In here, with no one watching me, I can just be Darana.
A worn-out woman looking for a corner to hide in amid the chaos.
“Hey, Angus…” I whisper, resting my forehead against his for a second. “Tell me the truth, even if it’s just with a bray. Do you think I’ll be able to get this place back on its feet again? Because if not…”
The pact of silence goes out the window with the door’s shrill creak.
“Well, well, boss…” Ricky’s teasing voice comes through right away. “If I got half the pampering that big-eared donkey gets, I’d have those perimeter posts driven into the ground in record time.”
I pull away from Angus at the speed of light, as if I’d been caught shoplifting at the supermarket. I clear my throat, yank my hat down over my eyes, and glare at him before the kid can even blink.
Yeah, I’m such a charmer.
“Cut the chatter, Ricky,” I snap, turning around with my most unfriendly expression. “And get to work with that hammer—those fences aren’t going to go up by magic.”
The kid raises his arms in a gesture of peace, but not even a storm could wipe that mischievous little smile off his face.
“Got it, boss. But let’s be honest: Angus looks better this morning than all of us put together. Do you want me to get him something?”
“No, I told you to get to work,” I snap. “And tell the crew to drink cold water every twenty minutes. With this heat coming in after the storm, the last thing I need is for someone to pass out.”
The kid walks away with three posts on his shoulder as if they weigh nothing, whistling an Australian tune. I wait until he’s a few yards away before pointing at the donkey.
“Not a word about this to the scientist, is that clear? Don’t go making friends with her.”
Angus lets out a snort that sounds like, “Pay up with an apple and shut up.”
· · ·
I step out of the corral, and harsh reality hits me again. Orders fly through the air like bullets, peppered with the occasional curse when a hammer blow lands where it shouldn’t.
But there are my people. My team. The Birdsong Hills rescue patrol.
Near the main sheds, Maddie is supervising as the guys drape dry blankets over the horses, who are still a little skittish.
“Slow down—you’re going to make them even more nervous than they already are!” she shouts at them authoritatively. “Talk to them calmly and pet them. These animals are worth more than all your salaries combined, so watch it.”
Across the courtyard, Joyce wades through the mud, holding a gigantic tray that defies the laws of gravity, piled high with meat pies and jars of iced tea.
“Come on, everyone, dig in!” she roars. “On an empty stomach, not even God can put up a fence in this country! And I don’t want to see anyone slacking off—I know you all too well!”
At the end of the central aisle, a sharp, dramatic whinny demands my immediate attention. As soon as Byron sees my head pop through the gate, the damn animal starts stamping his hooves on the ground.
“I’m coming, relax, I’m coming…” I murmur, hurrying over to his stall.
Byron greets me by snorting, elegantly shaking his jet-black mane, and turning his back on me. The horse keeps up the act of being offended for two seconds, but eventually gives in, stretching his neck upward with his eyes half-closed.
“You’re very brave, champ. No storm can stop you.”
Byron snorts over my shoulder, nudging me gently with his wet muzzle—which, in his language, means he’s spared my life. If it weren’t for my animals, I think I would’ve completely lost my mind this morning.
The smell of spiced meat and flaky pastry makes my stomach growl. And for a second, amid the commotion, I think we’re going to make it through this.
“I’m going to grab a drink, and then I’ll come back to you. Okay?”
I walk toward the center of the courtyard and then freeze in my tracks.
Perched on a makeshift platform attached to the back of a truck, surrounded by toolboxes and exposed wires, are Camila, Kira, and Ethan.
They’re covered in grease up to their eyebrows, dripping with sweat, and have mud caked onto their boots, but they move like a team of surgeons.
Camila is half-buried in a fuse panel, frowning, her hair pulled back, with smudges of grease on her cheek that—damn it—look ridiculously good on her.
She’s talking a mile a minute while pointing at the tablet screen; Kira is splicing a wire with a pair of pliers; and Ethan is watching her as if he were looking at the cowgirl reincarnation of Nikola Tesla.
“No, hold on there, Kira!” Camila yells to be heard over the noise of a generator. “That terminal goes to the secondary circuit breaker, not the main one. Ethan, pass me the multimeter.”
“At your service!” Ethan replies, handing her the device. “Hey, this is amazing. I’ve never seen a climatologist tinker with a rural transformer with such ease.”
Kira bursts out laughing, wiping the sweat from her forehead with her forearm.
“It’s not amazing, Ethan—this is a one-way ticket to the hospital. But if anyone can get the power back on in this damn place before darkness swallows us up, it’s Bennet. Right?”
“Stop flattering me, Kira,” Camila protests, though a half smile creeps onto her face. “I’m just the one here trying to make sure we don’t spend another night by candlelight. Darana needs the pumping system running right now if she doesn’t want the animals to die of thirst.”
I shouldn’t be looking at her. But I can’t help myself. I watch her over and over, challenging my own eyes to look away. But seeing her up there, wrestling with the wires to save my power supply, leaves me with a silly flutter in my stomach.
“Try to hide it a little—you’re drooling.”
I spin around and see Joanie leaning against the wooden railing. Her latex gloves are hanging out of her pocket, she has a Band-Aid on her neck, and she’s got that viper-like look she always wears when she wants to rub salt in the wound.
“Are you done checking on the injured calves?” I ask, crossing my arms defensively.
“They’re all disinfected and on antibiotics,” she replies with a weary sigh. “A couple of cuts from the flying metal shards, but nothing a little time won’t heal. What about you? You look like a ghost—it’s scary, Calloway. Well, like a ghost who’s completely transfixed, staring at the platform.”
I feel my ears start to burn and pray that the sun will hide the flush spreading across my face.
“This place is a total mess from top to bottom, Joanie. I’m not transfixed—I’m figuring out how many hours of work we have left. I don’t have time for nonsense.”
“Yeah, right, the damage assessment…” she scoffs, leaning toward me with a most impertinent little smirk.
“I’ve been watching you from the porch, Darana.
You’ve got your eyes glued to Bennet like she’s the last glass of water in the desert.
If you keep this up, you’re going to end up causing another short circuit. ”
I let out a sharp laugh, drawing on every ounce of Calloway pride left in my body.
“You’re way off base, Joanie. The only thing between that woman and me is a score I’ll never forget for the rest of my life.
That ‘scientist’ left us all high and dry ten years ago without looking back.
She didn’t give a damn about divorcing Elijah and breaking his heart into a thousand pieces because she was in a hurry to find a different kind of life away from here.
I really hate her, and all I want is for her to finish installing her damn climate sensors and get the hell back to her city. End of story.”
Joanie fixes me with those analytical eyes of hers and, of course, doesn’t buy a single word of my rant.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s so obvious how much you hate her,” she says with such sarcasm that I feel like drowning her in the trough.
“That’s why you almost sent that guy at the bar to the hospital the other night.
And that’s why you’ve been staring off into space for the last ten minutes.
Save that ‘enmity’ story for someone else, sweetheart. ”
I clench my teeth.
“I was defending the honor of this place,” I retort.
“Sure, sure,” Joanie interrupts, giving me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “That resentment is going to blow up in both your faces before the week is over. It’s not hate you’re feeling, Calloway, and you know that better than anyone. But hey, keep your head held high while the sparks fly.”
I look back at the truck bed. At that very moment, Camila sits up, wipes the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, and turns toward the yard. Our eyes meet across the distance. One. Two seconds. I look away abruptly, cursing myself inwardly for having looked.
Joanie lets out an amused snort beside me, turning back toward the animals.
“Oh my God, Darana… You’re screwed. Like, really screwed.”
“Screw you, Joanie,” I snap at her, though I’m seething on the inside.
I’m left alone in the middle of the yard.
Angus pokes his head over the corral fence, letting out a hoarse bray.
I stroke his muzzle automatically, staring at nothing in particular, feeling my heart pounding against my ribs.
What a mess. Joanie’s a loudmouth, but worst of all, my pride won’t let me admit she’s partly right.
Camila Bennet is back to drive me crazy, and I haven’t the faintest idea how to defend myself against her without both of us blowing up.