Pushing thoughts of the past and of Stormy aside, I fire up the engine and roll out onto the dirt track, ready to get this long day underway.
The animals in the pastures have been rotated, fed, and checked—morning routines done. I’d made my usual stop at the campsite, making sure everything was running smoothly. The campers are content with no complaints, no urgent needs, and thank God, no maintenance issues at the shower block. I do not want another repeat of last week, when the drains were clogged with … I don’t even know what. Seriously, what are these people doing in there? At least that’s one less disaster on my plate today.
I pull up at the stables where I’m set to meet Jensen this morning. His truck is already here, and I park alongside it. Stepping into the barn, the scent of hay and horses wraps around me. It’s the scent of my childhood, and it reminds me of a time when life felt simpler, before it began grinding me down.
Kit is on his way out, rucksack slung over one shoulder, ready for school. He works most mornings before heading off, a little bit of a rogue but always dependable. He was 14 when I first met him, caught him stealing bread from a store in town. Instead of turning him in, I gave him a job. His family’s situation isn’t good. They’re lovely people but struggling. His dad left, his mom drinks too much, and as the eldest, Kit shoulders some responsibility of his younger siblings. I understand that feeling—carrying the weight of something bigger than yourself.
Since Dad passed, this place has been mine to keep afloat—my responsibility. Helping Kit find his footing was the least I could do. He’s a good kid, and I don’t want to watch him fall through the cracks before he ever gets the chance to build his life.
Buddy races ahead nudging Kit’s knee, hankering after affection. Kit crouches, scratching him behind the ears before rising and shrugging his rucksack higher. “
Hey, Ford,” he says. “I’ve done all my jobs and Jensen’s through there with Star, so I’m gonna go wait at the house.”
He’s in the same year as my youngest sister Harper, and I drive them both to school each morning.
He makes to walk past, but I reach out, ruffling his blonde hair as he tries but fails to duck away, grumbling and attempting to fix it. I pause, frowning at the sticky residue on my fingers. “
What’s going on here?” I ask, rubbing them together. “Is this … hair wax?”
“What?! NO,” Kit blurts out, but the sudden redness creeping into his cheeks betrays him.
I’ve never once seen this boy use product in his hair, and now that I’m looking closer, I can see he’s made more of an effort today all around. His clothes look … chosen rather than thrown on. And is that aftershave?
I arch an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look.
“Who’s the girl? Or boy? Come on, spill.”
Kit freezes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” he says, too quick, too defensive, pushing past me toward the door.
I smirk, shaking my head as he rushes past.
“Yeah, yeah. I believe you. You can go, by the way,” adding the last part sarcastically, though he’s already halfway to the doors. “I’ll be there in ten, stay out of trouble!”
I can’t see his face, but I know he’s rolling his eyes.
“Yes, Ford,” he mutters, dismissing me with the kind of casual irritation only teenagers can master.
I turn toward the stalls, heading to where Jensen is tending to Star, our pregnant mare. We hadn’t had her long when we discovered she was carrying. She’d been rescued from a rough farm a few towns over, neglected and in bad shape. But sadly, that’s pretty much the story of every animal we bring here.
Inside the stall, Jensen is packing up his equipment. He stands, almost as tall as me, his brown skin catching the morning light through the slits in the wood. His eyes, just as deep, just as dark, soften when he sees me and he steps forward, giving me a solid pat on the shoulder.
“She’s looking good,” he tells me. “Everything seems to be progressing well. About a month now, and she’ll be ready.”
I exhale, tension easing from my shoulders. “Great, thanks Jensen.”
These animals … they mean a lot to this place. To everyone here. Mom and Dad started with just the campsite and a handful of livestock, but as the years went by, they kept finding more. Animals desperate for a second chance. One by one, we brought them here, until the place was more than just a ranch; it was a sanctuary. A home. Somewhere they could finally live free, without fear or suffering. They keep me busy; that’s for damn sure. It’s no wonder I’m stressed all the time. I don’t understand why people act surprised when I’m grumpy, it’s practically a job requirement at this point.
"I’m heading off now," Jensen says, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "Got a few jobs over at John's place this morning."
He shoots me a knowing side-eye as he bends to pick up his things, and I make no effort to hide the displeasure on my face. "Don't give me that look," he sighs. "You know it's my job."
Ugh. John. I can’t stand that man. His arrogant son, Will, too.
Their sprawling ranch sits on the far side of town, and they treat animal rescue like some twisted competition, racing to get there first whenever a farm goes under, snatching up whatever livestock needs saving like they’re prizes to be won. He calls it rescue, but that’s a joke. John doesn’t saveanimals. He uses them, pumping out milk, eggs, profit, whatever he can squeeze from their bodies. In his eyes, chickens, and cows are nothing more than production machines. He swears he treats them well, but anyone with half a brain knows the truth—there’s no such thing as humane treatment in an industry built on exploitation.
I try not to think about it too much. If I did, it would eat me alive. But every time I see him hauling off another animal—another life that’s already been through hell—only to be shoved into a different kind of suffering, it makes my blood boil.
