Like he didn’t fully trust her, Cowboy leapt onto the Formica counter once inside the trailer and eyed Josie intently as she pulled a plastic baggy filled with thinly sliced deli meat out from the cluster of groceries. The cat’s low motor began to rev a purr of approval.
Tearing off a little piece, Josie extended her hand for Cowboy to nibble from. “Silly cat,” she said with a smirk. “Do you think you could be a little more high maintenance?”
A raspy meow served as Josie’s answer.
She had wanted a dog. Some animal that could nap in the truck when Josie was out shoeing horses or taking ranch calls. When she had ventured down to the humane society, she’d originally hoped to adopt a blue heeler puppy that had been heavily advertised on the county’s website. Apparently, a young family of four also had the same idea. But Josie couldn’t stomach the thought of leaving that shelter empty handed. There were too many animals, not enough cages, and even less willing adopters.
No two ways about it, though, Cowboy was nasty. The Band-Aid the young volunteer sported on his left forearm was a testament to that cat’s ornery attitude. Like a sign in a warehouse that boasted accident-free days, there was a running tally on Cowboy’s cage indicating the number of times he’d hissed at, scratched, or intimidated volunteers and potential owners. By the time Josie met him, that total was a whopping 204.
“You’re the only person this devil cat hasn’t tried to attack,’’ the volunteer had sneered, noticeably done with Cowboy’s antics. “Believe me, that’s a huge compliment.”
How could she leave Cowboy to a life of solitary confinement in a metal cage knowing that information? With a heart filled with significantly more spite than gratitude, Josie signed the papers and carted the cat home in a cardboard box the staff had warned would be shredded to pieces before she even pulled out of the lot.
To this very day, Cowboy had yet to add to his tally.
Sometimes all one needed in order to let their guard down was the security of a place to call home.
Huffing a breath of frustration, Josie nearly felt like hissing as she reflected on her own sudden and unexpected lost sense of security. She needed answers from Marcie and Marty, but now wasn’t the time for that. The sun would have to set on her anger. Hopefully the sunrise would bring a new perspective.
She made surprisingly quick work of stowing her groceries away one-handed, and when she pressed the refrigerator door shut with her backside, her phone buzzed.
How long until it’s healed?
This son of a gun sure was persistent.
The arm? A few more weeks, Josie typed back with her only working thumb.
Not ten seconds passed before her phone shook again.
That’ll work. These horses won’t be ready to be handled before then, anyway. Come by tomorrow and check things out. I’d like to figure out what I’m dealing with here.
She wanted to roll her eyes, the presumptive text doing its best to turn her already simmering anger into a boil. Apparently, she’d used up the day’s ration of frustration already.
Fine. She relented, surprising even herself. Send me the address and I’ll be by in the morning. 10:00.
3
Seth
If the perfect imprint of sweat under Scout’s saddle was any indicator, the morning had already been a full one and it was barely creeping up on nine o’clock. Just before daybreak, Seth had set out to move their herd to a fresh grazing pasture, a task that typically involved at least two men on horseback, an equal number of cattle dogs, and a well-executed plan.
If his brother, Tanner, had been around, they could’ve knocked the chore out in record time. But Tanner and his wife, Amy, along with their two sons, Bobby and Colby, were with Seth’s parents in Oregon for the week. Seth had no real option but to round up what he could on his own. Sure, he’d hoped to drive all one-hundred head to their respective paddocks in one sweep—if only to impress his parents. He’d have to settle for half the herd that morning and he knew that accomplishment would be met with half the enthusiasm it rightfully deserved.
The bright side was that the bunch of cows he did manage to rotate stayed mothered up and that allowed both calf and cow to settle into their new grazing territory with minimal stress. Seth chalked that up as a win and gave that small success permission to expand within him, like a bird puffing his feathered chest in pride.
Seth had been a twelve-year-old boy the first time he’d helped his dad on a cattle drive. Back then, he had more confidence than knowledge and more opinions than experience. Seth wanted to do things his way. He’d watched his older brother and his dad work their cows countless times. Seth had it all figured out. His father, Mitch, had agreed to let him take the reins that particular day, a mistake that cost Seth a half a front tooth and all of his preteen ego. The mama cow that had been separated from her calf showed no mercy. Seth was grateful his father had been a little more forgiving.
He’d come a long way in the fifteen years since that first drive. Still, there was a nagging sense that he could always do better, and that nagging stemmed from the fact that his older brother was slotted to take over the family’s cattle business. Relegated to second fiddle when it came to an inheritance wasn’t ideal, but Seth had little say in the part he got to play.
“You did good out there, Scout,” Seth said to his horse as he swapped out the bit in the animal’s mouth for a carrot. The gelding chomped loudly on the much deserved treat. “Who says you and I can’t handle the ranch on our own?”
It was an undeniably rhetorical question. Scout didn’t have Mr. Ed’s magical talking powers, but Seth swore that horse offered a wink in agreement. Imagined or not, Seth needed that encouragement. He wanted to believe his parents had left him to tend to the ranch because they trusted Seth to look after the Ford family livelihood. But the truth of the matter was, they’d carted Tanner up to Oregon to scope out a herd of purebred, grass-fed Wagyu. When faced with a promising new business venture—one that had the potential to take their cattle company to the next level—Seth’s parents chose Tanner as their right hand man.
That certainty felt like a swift kick in Seth’s gut.
He shrugged off the disheartening thought and gave Scout a pat on the rump, sending the horse trotting into the open pasture to spend the morning grazing with Sally, the old bay mare that belonged to Seth’s mother. Pulling the saddle from the gate where it balanced, Seth tried to shake his insecurities from his head. They had the awful ability to coil into his thoughts like a venomous snake about to strike. Seth was typically a confident and capable man, but more and more it felt as though he was spinning his wheels at the ranch. He wasn’t sure if he needed a promotion, a vacation, or a really stiff drink, but something had to give.
Dust swelled around his boots as he ambled toward the shed to store his tack until he’d need it again later that afternoon. Ignoring the low rumble in his woefully empty stomach, he wiped his hands clean with his favorite bandana and stepped out of the shed just as an old jalopy of a truck lumbered up the driveway. That vehicle coughed and wheezed like it smoked three packs a day, each little gasp propelling it another foot forward until it gave one last sputter before rolling to a stop.