FOURTEEN YEARS AGO
“Justin! Get your ass out here!”
Chris Cole, retired Army Special Forces Green Beret and owner of Silo Springs Ranch, was a grumpy motherfucker, but he had a heart bigger than the state of Montana. Justin was only sixteen and grateful the man helped yank him out of a bad situation at home. He was still learning the ropes…and apparently how to get up on time. These guys got moving early; the sun was barely peeking over the mountains. Justin’s father never taught him a damn thing, except to avoid pissing him off at all costs.
Drunk piece of shit.
An emergency removal order had been issued when Justin showed up to school one too many times looking like he’d lost eight rounds in a boxing ring. The asshat who threw the punches had all of his parental rights ripped away by a judge and was now serving a five year sentence in prison. Wasn’t long enough, but good fucking riddance.
When the chief of police stopped by with Child Protective Services and asked if Chris and his wife, Claire, would be willing to take in a foster child, they didn’t think twice about it.Apparently, the Cole’s had struggled with infertility for years and had more than enough room in their hearts and their home. Hallelujah, because Justin would’ve had nowhere else to go. His mother bolted when he was just three-years-old, and his next of kin was his grandma, Maryanne. She lived in an assisted living place, somewhere in Billings, because of early onset dementia. She’d saved his hide more than once during his life, and he missed her every day. If not for Chris, he probably would’ve been transported to some city and stuffed into a home with ten or more kids of all ages and backgrounds. It would’ve been ten times harder to cope.
Justin came running out of the bunkhouse, shirt unbuttoned, scrawny as hell, still shoving one leg into the pair of Wrangler jeans he’d been given as part of his work attire. He’d insisted he work and live with the rest of the hands on the ranch. It was his only request, and his new foster parents had obliged. He wasn’t going back to school; he might as well start working toward becoming a man. He didn’t mind the Benjamins littering his pockets, either. He got paid like the rest of the bunk boys. Chris was fair.
“The sun's already crawling up, and we have shit to do out here. I know you’re tired and it’s not easy, but this is school now—you’re learning life lessons, son. That GED you just got ain’t going to get you anywhere in life. But the things you learn on this ranch will. You’re a good kid, Justin—I can see that. I don’t ever want to have to call you out again, do you hear me?”
“Yes, sir.” Justin nodded.
Like he said, Chris was a grump, but not in the way his father was. His dad was a shitbag. Chris just wanted the best for him. Behind every stern talking to, was an air of love and care. Justinrecognized it and never felt hurt, more like encouraged and motivated.
“Go saddle your horse and be ready to ride with me and the boys in ten minutes. We’ll be waitin’ for ya.”
Justin jogged into the barn for his horse. As he approached the stall, he could see them there… again. Muddy denim overalls hanging over the wooden boards, still wet from the night before. Muck boots at the end of a long trail of muddy footprints. Hell, it was aggravating. Chris had a niece that showed up every summer, or so he’d been informed. She was only six years old, so he couldn’t be too pissed off.
There wasn’t time to clean it up now. He’d have to do it when he got back at the end of the day. Unless by some miracle the little twerp decided to pick them up herself—unlikely. She was cute enough, but he’d never spoken to her. Just cleaned up her messes and dropped her mud-stained clothes off on the porch for Claire to take inside and wash.
Justin grabbed a blanket and his saddle, and threw it on the horse. He fastened all the buckles, then held the bit up to the animal’s mouth. He situated the bridle and tossed the reins over its head. One foot in the stirrup, he mounted and rode out to meet everyone like he was told.
FOUR YEARS LATER
She whizzed past him through the barn. Denim overalls, a trucker hat on her head, and an auburn ponytail hanging out of the back. She had to be, what? Around ten years old now? Damn that girl was wild. She was happy, though; he had to give her that. They’d told Justin she belonged to Claire’s rich brother, who lived somewhere clear across the country; he couldn’t remember where. She only ever stayed a few weeks. He never said a word to her. There was always work to do, and he never wanted to intrude on their family time. Claire just had a baby, and he was happy to keep things going on the ranch so Chris could spend more time with them, too.
Justin still lived at the bunkhouse with the boys, and as it was, he maintained the horses for the ranch. A couple years ago, he’d started apprenticing under one of the best farriers in Montana so he could take over and service the ranch. It was convenient that they no longer had to outsource from other places.
He had big plans. Though, he didn’t want to be a ranch hand forever. Of course, it was a good time, but sleeping on the ground, watching a herd, and cleaning up after kids who left their shit laying around the barn wasn’t his dream job. Cowboying was fun as a side gig or a hobby. What he really wanted was to have a rig and a set up of his own, going around servicing the horses of Yellowstone county. He wanted to build his own place and live off site. He wanted a family someday, and cowboying on a ranch wasn’t the way to do that.
He finished hammering the last nail into Fred’s hoof and sat it down on the ground before moving around to his front. He touched his forehead to the animal's nose for a moment, moving on to pet his ears as he stroked the side of his neck and spoke in a hushed, gentle tone.
“Good boy. Thanks for your patience today. I know I wasn’t as fast as I normally am.”
Fred jumped and whinnied as a little human zoomed past them too close. Justin had to grip the horse’s bridle as he tried to settle him down.
Didn’t that little hellion understand that she needed to be careful around ranch animals? Just the other day he’d seen her jump into the main pen with a steer named Lucifer. She didn’t know how the animal got its name, but Justin did. The damn thing had charged at cowboys enough times to put ‘em within an inch of their lives. Did she think she was going to pet it? For hell’s sake, did he need to play babysitter, too?
Steers didn’t care if you were cute with a toothy smile, some were just flat out mean. He’d bolted to the corral and launched himself over, hollering and running toward the steer while the girl scurried under the bottom rung of the gate and ran back to the house. He’d let Chris know later what happened, and he hoped she knew now how dangerous that was.
He could see her as he peeked around Fred. She was chasing a butterfly around the back end of the building, in her own little world. He couldn’t be upset about what she’d just done. When he was ten years old, the only world he’d lived in was the sand pit of his day to day reality. He couldn’t chase butterflies when he was dodging the belt buckle being hurled in his direction—sometimes even when he wasn’t looking.
Justin put Fred back in his stall, cleaned up the shoeing mess, and sauntered away to finish up the rest of his work. He tossed a look over his shoulder, just to make sure the ten year old was still safe. She was, and he said a prayer that she wouldn’t get any more bright ideas, like the one she had with Lucifer.
SIX DAYS AGO
“So, I went to get my pap smear today.”
She buckled her seatbelt as she sat in the passenger seat of her fiancé’s top of the line, latest edition BMW. The man sitting next to her raised an eyebrow and smiled.
“Oh, that's right. How did it go?”
Max put the car in drive and they headed toward their destination. He’d insisted on a new build. He wanted something untouched and squeaky clean. Blythe had always wanted a home with cozy vibes, but the man footing the bill wanted more of a palace.
