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He snorted and shook his big yellow head, as if to say, “Like you could do anything else?”
I considered that I might talk to my horse too much and decided to get back to work. We jogged along the fence line, until I noticed how loose a couple of the wires had become.
When I reached the broken remnants of the wires, I cursed under my breath and climbed off Jesse. Using some tools and spare wire I stored in my saddle bag, I quickly mended the fence. Jesse nibbled grass behind me without a care in the world.
I walked to his side and put my left foot in the stirrup. When I had swung myself halfway on, Jesse shot out from under me and nearly dumped me on my ass.
“Whoa, boy,” I ordered and squeezed my reins.
He spun around and turned a wild, blue eye to the fence I’d just fixed. I almost didn’t believe my eyes. The same wires were cleanly cut in two pieces.
“What the hell?” I wondered.
After several minutes of calming Jesse down, I climbed off and fixed the wires. Again. My hands shook the entire time, which made the process even longer, much to Jesse’s discomfort. I worried about what could cause such a reaction from him. Grumpy and moody were definitely in his wheelhouse, but not skittish.
The next time I climbed on, he stood patiently. I hoped that meant he’d recovered from whatever frightened him and, frankly, me. I thought about what could've caused it, but my mind came up empty. The harder I tried to consider it, the less clear the truth became.
I pushed the thoughts aside and figured I probably just wasn’t as good at fixing fences as I liked to believe. The ride back to the main barn was peaceful. The fresh air steadied me, as did the familiar sights of rolling hills and green forestry. Cows grazed and ambled about their business. The sun peeked through trees and warmed my skin. A gentle breeze tousled my hair but didn’t blow violently enough to toss off my brown hat.
As I reached the main barn, I had finally convinced myself that everything was fine—until I noticed the open gate that had once held the cows meant to go to the sale tomorrow.
The pen was now empty.
I face-palmed myself and turned Jesse around. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed the extra fifty cows in the larger pasture. I wasn’t one to miss such a big detail, nor had I ever failed to lock a gate. I prayed I could corral the cattle once more before Nathan noticed.
I doubted the old man would fire me. I’d worked for him since I was fourteen years old and made much bigger mistakes in the last five years.
Doesn’t mean I’ll get out of stall-cleaning duty.
“Walker!” a gruff, familiar voice called. “What the hell is going on here?”
I groaned and turned Jesse around. Nathan charged down the hill so quickly, I worried he might take a tumble. On top of the hill, the barn’s metal roof glowed from the slowly setting Sun. Already, the temperatures dropped. If I didn’t get those cattle soon, I’d be working in the bitter night’s cold and have a hell of a lot harder job on my hands.
When Nathan finally reached me, I got off my horse. His rants were always lengthier if he didn’t get the satisfaction of peering down at me when he gave them.
“I just can’t find decent help anymore,” Nathan grumbled.
He crossed his behemoth arms over his unnaturally broad chest and prattled on about how I was more trouble than I was worth. The lines of his aged face were even harsher than usual from his scowl. We stood in the gateway of the empty cow pen for more than five minutes. I was shocked the old man had enough breath in his body to talk for so long.
“Hey, boss,” Sawyer called from up the hill, near the main barn. “Maybe you ought to let him go catch the damned things, then continue? That way, you get two gripe-fests instead of one.”
While Nathan grumbled to himself, I mouthed, “thank you” to Sawyer. He winked at me, though I had to squint to see him clearly. The Sun drooped even lower on the horizon. Before Nathan could continue, I hopped on Jesse and took off for the cows. Sawyer climbed on his own horse and followed me.
Just like that, our fight from the other night was forgotten.
“Thanks, man,” I said. “You really saved my ass back there.”
Our horses jogged alongside each other. Sawyer’s mare, Rosy, was a burly thing with a temper, but Sawyer cared for her like most people did their children. I’d always thought that was why girls fell so easily for him—they assumed they’d get treated as well as his horse. They were wrong.
At least he has girlfriends, I thought. It was more than I could say for myself.
“No problem,” he said with an easy grin. “That’s just the kind of friend I am. Are you all right, though? It isn’t like you to do dumb shit.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Sorry for stealing your thing.”
*
Freya
