Vinny was a gentle guy, but he was upset and could react if Marshall startled him. Patting the horse’s belly, he knelt next to Jack, his heart in his throat. The man was laying deathly still, his complexion ashen. His head was turned to the side, and his eyes were closed. Peaceful.
Emotion clogged Marshall’s throat.
Worry clouded his mind, not wanting to confirm his suspicions.
With a trembling hand, he reached to press two fingers to Jack’s neck, where his pulse should be.
A shuttered breath caught in Marshall’s throat. It was a good thing he hadn’t eaten breakfast. It wouldn’t have stayed down. His worst fears had become reality.
Marshall shook his head and backed out of the stall, trying to think of the best way to remove the horse without disturbing the scene. Pulling out his phone from his pocket, Marshall attempted to call emergency services, but his brain was short-circuiting. His fingers hovered over the number, sense slowly returning.
Somehow, he made one of the most difficult phone calls of his life.
The first responders were on the way, but there was no saving his friend.
After hanging up, he dialed Evan, wanting to get him back from the fields. He needed his best friend’s help.
“Hey,” Evan answered on the first ring. “Did you find anything?” Marshall swallowed, wondering how one communicated such a discovery, how to explain that he had found Jack, and he was no longer of this earth. He cleared his throat, no words, only fast breaths coming out. Marshall clutched his hand to his chest, willing his body to function.
He had to be strong. For Jack. For Edith. All he wanted to do was faint. He couldn’t catch his breath.
“Tell me where you are, I’ll find you,” Evan said, not even waiting for his response.
Marshall could only shake his head as his eyes filled with tears.
“Jack’s dead.”
CHAPTER 31
The horses were put out to pasture as the police came to inspect the scene. Hardly able to look at the body, Marshall hadn’t gotten a great look at the stall and his mind reached for memories of details that might help him understand what happened.
“Do you think he died of a heart attack or something?” Colette asked, sliding a glass of whiskey across the kitchen island. They were in the kitchen of the main house, waiting for the police to finish their investigation and let him know what the hell happened.
He had so many questions.
“Maybe,” Marshall swallowed the amber liquid, enjoying the burn as it tumbled down his throat. “It all happened so fast.”
“Poor Edith,” Colette said with a frown as she swallowed her own mouthful of whiskey. “I’ll go see her when the police are done with us. Does she have any family that can come help her?”
His gaze was focused on the glass as he shook his head. The Ellises didn’t have family close by. For years, they’d been each other’s whole world. A weight rested on his chest so heavy that he wasn’t sure how to breathe. Life and death were part of life,especially on the farm, but he never expected it to happen to someone who seemed ageless and invincible like his mentor.
“Fuck!” Pain squeezed in his chest, and he swiped his blue plaid shirt sleeve across his eyes. He had to keep the tears at bay, at least until he was done with the police. How would everyone else on the ranch keep it together if he was losing his shit and weeping like a baby? He pushed down the overwhelming sense of loss and collected himself with a deep, trembling breath. It wasn’t time to break down. Not yet.
Colette watched him, eyes wide and intense, as though she was trying to figure out how to help him. Wordlessly, she walked around the kitchen island and wrapped her arms around him. He stiffened at first, not wanting to lose control or crumble. The sensation of her body against his, the sweet scent of her surrounding him, seemed to give him permission. With a sniff, he buried his face in her neck and squeezed her as his life depended on it.
How had this woman he had known for barely a month become so important to him? Through no more than one night of pure heaven, her touch blazed a path to his heart, and when she tugged on the connection, he followed the pull. No resistance could keep him from baring his soul to hers.
“He was one of my best friends,” Marshall sobbed. “He saved me when I was in a dark place.”
As he soaked her shirt with his tears, she pulled him in tighter. “And I know he loved having you in his life. You were like the son he never had,” Colette spoke softly, her hand rubbing his back in slow strokes.
“If I had been working, he might have been saved,” he stuttered, choking on the words as they came out. “Maybe he would have been on his sofa with his wife, safe. Instead, he died alone.” Marshall swallowed, trying his best to fight the wave ofemotion overwhelming him. It was too much. The pain was like nothing he had ever felt. Suffocating. Crushing.
“You can’t know that,” Colette said, cupping the back of his head as he breathed heavily in her arms. “It’s a tragedy. No one is to blame.” The moment of comfort was shattered by a knock at the door. Marshall turned his back to whoever was there, wiping his face once more with his sleeve as Colette went to open the door.
“Hi, Officer,” her quiet voice spoke behind him.
After a few deep breaths, Marshall was composed enough to turn around. “Hey, Bobby.” Sympathy radiated from the police officer’s eyes. Bobby Dean was a fixture around town, settling neighbor squabbles and issues ranging from wandering cattle and random sprees of theft that happened in waves in small towns. His thumbs were looped in his belt as he strode to pat Marshall on the back.
