Page 79 of Sunrise & Serenity

He huffs out a short laugh, even as he stays focused on what he’s doing. The cow jerks again as Holden cuts the final strand, then it’s free, scrambling upright and stumbling before it bolts toward the herd in a burst of frantic movement.

Holden stands and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, watching the herd as they move away from us.

“Will she be okay?” I ask.

“Should be. She’ll limp for a day or two, but she’ll be all right.”

A stronger gust of wind buffets us, and both horses snort and stamp their hooves. Holden looks up again, his jaw flexing. In the time it took to free the cow, dark clouds have swallowed up much more of the sky. “Herd’s heading for higher ground, and we need to get back soon too.”

Thunder rolls again, louder this time, as if to underscore his point.

He crouches beside the fence, where the wire hangs loose.

“Can you fix it?” I ask.

“Enough to keep something else from getting caught.” His eyes find mine. “Can you grab that wire?” He nods toward a section dragging on the ground.

I step forward, glad to be of some help.

“Careful,” he says. “Don’t wrap it around your hand. Here, use this.” He pulls one of his gloves off and tosses it to me.

I tug it on. It’s far too big, but at least it offers protection from the bite of the wire.

“Okay, pull it tight,” he says.

I brace myself, digging my feet into the ground, and lean back slightly, keeping the wire taut as Holden twists it into place with quick, practiced movements.

Wind tears across the pasture, this time whipping my hair across my face. When the horses whinny, I shoot them a look, hoping they won’t run away and leave us here.

“Don’t worry about them, they’ll stay put,” Holden says, as if he can read my mind.

The wind gusts again, and the wire shifts suddenly in my grip. Faster than seems humanly possible, Holden catches my wrist before the wire snaps back toward my hand.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he says, thumb brushing the bare skin of my inner arm. Not teasing, just steady, calming.

I swallow once and tighten my hold, trying to focus on the task instead of the way he called me sweetheart—like it slipped out without thought.

Together, we pull the section tight, and he secures it to the post, then tests the tension. “That should hold. You can let go.”

I release the wire carefully, then remove the glove and flex my stiff fingers.

The wind has picked up even more, and the scent of rain is impossible to ignore.

Holden presses one hand against his shoulder, but he drops it quickly when he catches me watching.

“Are you okay?”

His gaze flicks to mine. “I’m fine.”

The response is too automatic, too rehearsed. I consider pushing, but in the distance, lightning arcs across the sky, followed by a sharp crack of thunder.

His expression shifts. “We need to move.”

I reach for Cozy, preparing to mount, but Holden’s suddenly at my side, lifting me high enough that I can sling my leg over the saddle. If the movement strains his shoulder, he doesn’t let it show. Before I can say anything, he’s already turning toward Whiskey.

Just as he mounts, the first drops of rain hit me. It’s not a gentle rain, either. It’s cold and wind-driven. Holden glances up at the sky, then in the direction of the ranch, his expression assessing.

“We need to pick up the pace,” he says, bringing his horse closer. “You know how to stay on at a trot. This’ll be easier, but faster. Just sit deeper in the saddle and let Cozy move. If you need to, hold on to the horn. She’ll follow Whiskey, okay?”