Never doubted you for a second.
We move on to the next trough in a different pasture. As I shift the gear, uneasiness pricks my nerves. My eyes drift around the pasture, at the fence in the distance, but I come up empty. Still, the place feels…off.
I think about the latch on the gate and how it was left unlatched. At the holes in the fence line. The way my gut twisted at the troughs being lower than they should be. It’d been hotter than usual this time of year, but it still shouldn’t have been that low. It felt like someone had drained some out. Not completely, but enough to be noticeable. As if they’re sending a message.
Water contamination flickers at the edge of my mind. It wouldn’t take much for someone to mess with the water. A tossed chemical or foreign object. Enough to make animals sick before anyone realizes what’s happening. Sick cattle are detrimental to a business like ours.
But I keep my worries to myself. I informed the farmhands to be more vigilant, to keep an eye on anything that seems off. Even if they don’t think it’s anything big, if it stands out to them, report it.
My eyes dart over to Grandpa. He’s at peace with the business he helped Dad build. I won’t worry him with my concern, not when I don’t know if I’m right. He’s earned time to retire, to relax and not worry about the shit going on.
“When are you going to make an honest woman out of her?”
I swallow hard, choking as the saliva gets caught in my throat. “Jesus.”
His eyebrow quirks, waiting.
“Little soon, don’t you think?”
He tsks. “When you know, you know. You’re not getting any younger.”
I mull over his answer as the last trough fills, and water slaps against the rubber sides in a steady rhythm. I don’t get a chance to reply before my phone buzzes in my pocket. On the second buzz, I damn near drop the hose as I race to dig out my phone.
“Calm down, Son,” Grandpa shouts.
But I can’t, because this is a call. And a call means something bad. My stomach flips as worry fills my veins. What if he found Wren?
My jaw tightens as I glance at the screen.
“What is it?” I ask my farmhand, knowing if he’s calling, it’s for something bad.
“Sir…” He clears his throat. “I-I was…uh…”
“Take a deep breath and fill me in,” I grit out.
Daniel swallows hard. “I was working the south pasture like you asked, and the fence…it’s cut again.”
I take a deep breath, pinching my nose between my fingers.
“There’s more, sir.”
“What?” I snap, patience abandoned.
“You’re gonna want to see this.”
I glance toward Grandpa. He’s a few steps away, taking a sip from the hose.
Daniel rattles off his location in the field, and I nod along. Anger thrums, causing my limbs to shake. I don’t take well to people messing with what’s mine. First, Wren. Now, my farm. Motherfucker has a death wish, and I’m the Grim Reaper.
“I’m on my way,” I hiss.
I end the call and slide my phone into my pocket before shutting off the hose. My pulse ticks loud enough I worry Grandpa can hear it.
“Sounds like trouble.”
I shake my head. “Just a fence.”
“Boy, I didn’t make it this long by living with my head in the clouds.”
