He took another sip of coffee and closed his eyes briefly with a quiet sigh.
One of the mares pushed her nose into his shoulder again. Sage scratched the animal’s nose automatically, the motion easy and practiced.
Law leaned against the fence beside him, sipping his own coffee while the morning slowly brightened around them.
Eventually, when the cup was empty, Sage hopped down from the rail and leaned his hip against the fence beside Law.
Among the animals, something softened in him. The sharp watchfulness Sage usually carried eased, replaced by a quiet brightness that showed up rarely and disappeared quickly.
“You had horses growing up?” Sage asked.
“No,” Law said. “But we had dogs. Mostly shepherds. Smart animals.” He paused a moment. “My mom loves cats, so there are always a few running around too.”
Sage nodded, absently tracing the rim of his empty mug with his thumb.
“One of my foster homes had a cat,” he said after a moment.
Law didn’t miss the casual way the statement slipped out.
Not defensive. Just matter-of-fact.
Like owning one had never been an option worth discussing.
“Well, you’re making up for it now,” Law said.
“Yes.” Sage’s mouth tipped slightly at the corner, and he moved closer to lean against the fence beside him. “You’ve got a big family, right?”
Law nodded. “Oldest of six.”
Sage whistled low. “That’s a lot of chaos.”
Law huffed a quiet laugh. “You learn quickly how to get loud or get out of the way.”
He took a sip of coffee. “My dad was a retired general. Could’ve put us on base, but he wanted us somewhere steady. Bought a house outside Knoxville. Several acres. Nothing fancy.”
“Still sounds busy.”
“It was.” Law smiled faintly. “Five younger siblings meant somebody was always fighting, playing ball, or breaking something. Mom kept us all in line somehow.”
Another quiet moment settled between them as the sun climbed higher, turning the distant mountains pale gold.
Law glanced toward the ranch road.
“Ready to go get him?”
Sage’s head lifted immediately.
The spark in his eyes came alive fast.
He smiled.
“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”
The drive across the ranch was short. Morning had begun stretching across the valley by the time they left the main house, pale sunlight spilling over the Nevada hills and burning the last of the cool from the air. The gravel road wound past the barns and lower pastures, cutting through stretches of sagebrush and open field that still held the quiet of early morning.
Sage lasted about twenty seconds in silence before reaching over and turning on the radio.
He scrolled through the stations with quick taps until something bright and upbeat burst through the speakers—guitars, drums, and a singer who sounded aggressively cheerful for that hour of the morning.
