Page 26 of More Than This Land

Luke remembered that day with a grin. They’d processed two hundred head in record time, and the celebration afterward had lasted until sunset.

“Things change.” He headed toward the barn, needing movement and one last look at the hay to verify his count yesterday.

“They do.” Caleb followed. “Question is whether we’re changing them or if they’re happening to us.”

Graham’s voice carried across the yard. “Truck coming up the drive.”

Finally. His shoulders pulled back, and a quick turn brought a small yellow pickup into view. Tom Martin. Tom climbed out, followed by his wife and two teenage sons.

“Morning, boys.” Tom’s handshake was firm and warm. “Thanks for having us.”

“Glad you’re here. Boys ready to work?” He shook hands with each of them.

“Yes sir.” Both teenagers nodded, eagerness written across their young faces.

More trucks arrived over the next thirty minutes. Each arrival eased the tension in Luke’s chest, but he couldn’t stop his mental counting. Couldn’t stop comparing to past years.

By six forty-five, seventeen people milled around the corral area. Less than half of last year’s turnout.

Noah joined Luke near the chutes, propping one booted foot on the bottom rail. “Could be worse.”

“Could be better.” Luke grabbed a clipboard with the day’s assignments.

“Could be what we deserve after spending a year making people feel unwelcome.” Noah gripped the top bar and twisted his gloved hands around the worn metal. “Can’t expect them to show up when we’ve been showing them the door.”

The crunch of teeth grinding together brought a spike of pain he ignored. “I get it, Noah. I messed up. You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

“Not trying to remind you.” Noah bumped their shoulders together. “Just saying maybe this is rock bottom. Means the only direction left is up.”

Tires on gravel snagged his attention, then held it when he recognized Claire’s sedan, followed by Mom’s SUV.

His pulse jumped into the rapid flare that only ever came when he raced across the fields on horseback. The thrill and excitement never failed to make him feel better. Why did the sight of Claire climbing out of her sedan wearing jeans, boots, and a flannel shirt that looked borrowed give that same experience. She’d pulled her hair back in a practical braid and left her glasses behind. No business casual polish today. Instead, she walked toward him like she belonged here.

He rubbed the heel of his hand over the pressure in his chest, willing the emotions down where they belonged.

Mom walked beside Claire, talking and gesturing toward the main house where they’d set up the meal area. Claire nodded and pulled a notebook from her bag.

“Well.” Graham snorted from Luke’s other side. Hadn’t his brother gone off with the Martins? He must have missed him coming back. A firm poke in Luke’s shoulder knocked him into Noah. “There’s the real reason you’ve been staring at the driveway like a lost puppy.”

Heat crawled up Luke’s neck. “I have not.”

Noah grinned. “Yeah, you have. It’s too funny.”

“Am not. I mean, it’s not.” He shook his head, but the motion did nothing to shake off his muddled thoughts.

“You should go help them.” Caleb joined them at the panels and poked him just like Graham had only harder.

“They’re fine.” He forced his attention back to the clipboard.

Graham snorted. “Go. You’re going to be useless watching the house instead of the cattle.”

“I’m not—” Luke started.

“Go.” All three of his brothers spoke in unison.

Face burning, he shoved the clipboard at Caleb and headed toward the house, his brothers’ laughter following him across the yard.

He found Claire and Mom in the main house kitchen, surveying supplies. Aluminum pans covered every counter. Mom’s industrial-sized coffee maker gurgled in the corner. The scent of cinnamon rolls baking sent his stomach into a hearty rumble.