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Nothing.
I rolled over.
Grabbed the phone.
Saw Hank's name.
Immediately answered.
"You okay?"
The old rancher sighed.
The sound alone told me everything.
"Gout."
Damn.
"You need me?"
"Already answered your own question."
I sat up.
Pulled on a shirt.
"How bad?"
"Let's just say if my knee gets any bigger, I'm naming it."
That earned a laugh.
Even from me.
Barely.
"Stay put."
"Wasn't planning on running a marathon."
Twenty-five minutes later I pulled into the ranch.
The boys were already there.
Which surprised me.
Until I realized why.
The feed truck sat sideways.
Half blocking the driveway.
One gate stood open.
A calf was running through the front yard.
And somebody was yelling.
