“Later.You girls be safe.”He kisses his wife’s cheek.“Try not to drive like a maniac please, Lemonade.”
“No promises,” Lemon says, but the joke is lost because this kind of warning from Cash can only mean one thing—dead cattle or dead ranch hands.
In the stable, most of the horses are saddled and waiting to get on with the day’s work, but my brothers and the rest of the ranch hands stand around gossiping like old ladies.This is becoming a habit.
“Wade, Wyatt,” I shout.“Get your asses over here.”
“What’s going on, brother?”Wade says.
“Probably just trying to get on with the day so he can go see his woman.”
“Shut the fuck up.”I say and then look at Cash.“What’s this about?”
“I went out for an early morning ride, and there’s been another poisoning.North pasture, twenty head, at least.Longhorns, this time.”
“Fuck!”
“We gotta get Rhett on the phone.I’ll have him meet us by the North gate.”
“We’ll see you there.”
I head for Blinkin’ Impressive’s stall and put her rope halter on, then I lead her to the cross-tie bay and tether her, because she can be a moody lady when you don’t woo her properly.I follow a curry comb over her back with a wide brush, and clear off any debris from her stall.Then I throw on her pad and make sure it’s lined up with the center of her back before hoisting her saddle.She bows her head to my back with an indelicate snort.Her way of saying I stink like a drunkard, I suppose.“Oh, it’s like that is it, Miss B?”
She stomps her hoof as I smooth a hand down her shoulder, reach under, and wrap the front cinch.I snug it up by pulling on the top strap, taking out the slack, until the buckle locks.Then I buckle her back cinch and give her a couple sturdy pats on her rump.
We’ve done this dance a million times since I was a teen, though normally I come equipped with carrots or treats.She whinnies as if she’s mad at me.
“I know, I know.I’ve been spending too much time away, huh?”I take off the rope halter and bridle Miss B, and then I press my nose against hers.“Whadda ya say we go for a ride?”
I lead her from the stall and head out into the overcast Autumn day.Pulling my cell from my pocket, I call Rhett.
He answers on the third ring.“West, I was just about to call you.”
“You got news for me?’Cause I’m looking at twenty more dead.”
“Jesus.”
“Someone is poisoning my cattle, Rhett, and I wanna know who.”
“I’m gonna head out your way with a team, give me an hour, and we’ll collect samples, but I’d rather not have this conversation over the phone.”
What the fuck?“Meet us at the north gate.”
“Will do,” he says and adds, “West, it might be best to keep this under wraps for now.Need to know only.”
“Got it.”
I hang up and my phone chimes with a text from Daisy.
Baby Mama: I thought you’d appreciate this.
Daisy’s posted a picture of Waylon, wrapped in a little white blanket covered in cowboy hats.He’s sleeping peacefully.Above his head, taped to the side of the hospital bassinette is a colorful nameplate that reads: Waylon West Moore.
I sigh and tap the picture and hit the heart emoji, and then I slide my phone in my thigh holster and hoist myself into the saddle.I feel guilty for not replying properly, I feel guilty for not being by her side today, but Ranch life doesn’t let up.Right now, I need to focus on the problem at hand.Who the hell would want to ruin us like this?I can only think of one family that wants to see us fail, but surely, they’re not this stupid?
“Walk on,” I say to Miss B.
***
