Jake continued to pet the dog, who looked at him with both pain and hope. What asshole would shoot a dog? Jake tried to keep his anger in check, because both the dogs and horse were likely to pick up on his agitation and get nervous.
“You’re a good boy,” Jake told him. “Good, good boy. We’re going to get you fixed up right quick, I promise.”
Mateo arrived only moments later and dismounted. “What happened?” he asked, his face filled with the same concern that Jake felt.
“I thought he was a cow lying in the grass,” Jake said, motioning to the four other cows standing under the tree only a few feet away. “Found Timber instead.”
“Damn,” Mateo said. “I should go with you; you might need help with him.”
“Is the roof done?”
“Not yet, but—”
“Finish the roof,” Jake said. “The storm isn’t going to wait for us. Plus, someone needs to bring these four lazy cows back to the herd.”
Mateo wanted to object, but nodded and said, “Okay, I’ll meet you at Baldwin’s when I’m done. Shouldn’t take longer than thirty minutes.”
“Thanks,” Jake said.
“Want me to help you get him on the saddle?”
“No, I think he’ll be nervous up there, and I don’t have anything to safely secure him.”
“All right. If you see anything weird, you radio me, got it? I’ll be right there.”
Mateo used his horse to urge the four cows back toward the herd and the run-in.
Mateo was more than twice Jake’s age and had started working for the Whisper Creek Ranch more than a decade ago, around the time that Jake’s little brother, Bobby, was born. Jake generally deferred to the more experienced ranch hand, but this time they had too much to do and not enough time. Over the last year that Jake had taken on more responsibility on the ranch, he had grown into his role. It’s why he planned on postponing college.
He wanted to be a vet. But they couldn’t afford it, and even if they had the money or he could get a scholarship, he couldn’t leave his mom for so many years. He’d take classes at NCTC in Gainesville, a good two-year college, focusing on classes that would help him be a better farmer and a better businessman. They also had an equine program that sounded interesting, and Jake loved working with horses. He could go to NCTC and work on the farm at the same time. He’d think about vet school down the road.
Jake glanced toward Baldwin’s house; a pale shape barely visible across the fields. Home lay in the opposite direction, beyond the pasture and crops. Had Timber been trying to get help? Heading toward their house—or to Uncle Travis’s, who lived just across the road from them?
“Smart boy,” Jake murmured. He tilted his water bottle, and Timber lapped it up, tongue flicking weakly.
They’d have to walk. Jake patted his thigh. “C’mon. We’re going back to your house.”
Timber followed, limping but determined. He wasn’t bleeding anymore, which was good—if he were, Jake wouldn’t have let him walk. But he was holding his own.
Something tickled at the back of Jake’s thoughts.
Why hadn’t Baldwin come looking for Timber?
Baldwin loved this dog—fondly calling him his shadow since both his daughters had moved to Dallas. One married, the otherstill in college. His wife had left the family years ago. Jake hardly remembered the woman, except for her perpetual sour expression and harsh voice.
He’d trusted Baldwin once. Jake’s dad and Baldwin had talked about the McKennas’ expansion plan, and Baldwin opened his fields to their cattle for grazing when they needed the extra space. They shared water rights to part of Whisper Creek, a stretch of which formed the boundary between their land. Baldwin wasn’t a farmer—he showed horses. He didn’t need all his acres and had long ago promised that when the McKennas could buy him out, he’d sell to them.
The McKennas needed Baldwin’s property because it was rich in nutrients, having lain fallow for so long. Plus, they shared a large border, which made that plot a natural extension of the McKenna land.
Then Verdacorp had come calling. And Baldwin had sold tothem, not the McKennas.
A dishonorable man, Jake thought. A man who couldn’t be trusted to his word, which was something Jake’s father had lived by.
A man is only as good as his word, son. Remember that.
His mom still talked to Baldwin; Jake avoided being in the same room.
The closer they got to the farm, the more Jake’s sense of unease grew. The only sound was the wind whistling through the trees. Then, as the house came into view, he saw the front door gaping open.
