“Yeah,” Cade agrees.
“We’ll post a deputy to patrol the ranch gates for a while. But Cade….” His voice drops, heavy. “You need to amp up security.”
“I know.”
CHAPTER 29
cade
By the time Sarah finishes the necropsy, seals the samples, tags what’s left of Ranger, and makes the calls to have the carcass hauled off to the state lab, it’s morning.
The floodlights cut out one by one as the sun rises over the east ridge, painting the pens gold like nothing bad ever touched them.
Dodge looks like he’s worked three roundups back-to-back—I doubt I look any better. The hands crashed in the bunkhouse, which is a good thing, because today’s going to be a long one.
Sarah, I can tell, is running on fumes. Her braid’s half undone, eyes shadowed, but she won’t quit until every last animal in the pens has been checked.
“Dove, you look like hell,” I tell her.
“And here I thought you’d say I look like Miss USA,” she clips. “Now, if you’re tired, go to bed. I intend to finish my job, and I don’t need your help anymore.”
Dodge and I had helped her with the necropsy—passing equipment, holding lights so she could see.
I know how vets work but watching Sarah do it so efficiently makes me puff with pride, even if it was on my bull.
When she opened the rumen, the smell of kerosene hit like a punch, and I was glad she made us wear facemasks. She collected tissue samples from the liver, kidneys, and rumen lining to send to the state diagnostic lab. Then she had us collect feed and water samples from the pens, under her watch, which she said would be compared against the stomach contents.
“How can we help?” Dodge asks instead of arguing.
“Why don’t you both go do what you normally do at”—she flips her wrist to check the time—“five in the morning.”
“I’m usually havin’ a cup of coffee,” Dodge chimes. “Boss, too.”
At the word coffee, she perks up. “I would kill for a cup of coffee.”
“I think we’ve had enough killin’ for the day.” My attempt to lighten the mood falls flat—there’s nothing that can make today better.
“Too soon,” she mutters.
“I’ll make some coffee in the mess hall and bring it down here,” Dodge offers.
“That would be good,” I say gratefully.
With Dodge gone, I step into the role of Sarah’s assistant.
Lucky for us, the bulk of the herd’s down in the southpasture—close to two hundred head spread wide across the grass.
What we’ve got up here is just the critical bunch: six bulls, including Thunder, plus maybe thirty head of weaned heifers and yearlings—the ones I like to keep close, where I can keep an eye on them.
By the time she’s done running her stethoscope, checking the water, and marking feed bins, the sky’s turning from dark blue to bruised-purple, and we’re both wrung out.
I’m bone-tired, body heavy as lead, but wired awake in the way rage and grief won’t let you sleep. The only thing keeping me upright is Sarah.
Dodge brings coffee. I suggest we drink it on the porch. I know Sarah won’t go inside my house. I hope she’ll change her mind, as it’s completely renovated and is no longer the same house where….
We wash our hands at the outside spigot with the soap Tillie keeps filled, mostly because she doesn’t want me walking in as filthy as hell.
We’re barely seated when the front door opens.
