Page 5 of His Last Nerve

Fuck.

Fuck.There, on the side of the heifer’s head was a gash. Blood was oozing from it, and flies had started to make their claim. I looked to Beau, leaning forward on his horse, chewing his gum. That fucker always had a piece of gum in his mouth, a trick to keep him away from chewing tobacco. I jerked my head to the herd and the rest of the cowboys.

“I gotta put her down. Go tell Jigs,” I called.

He nodded once and trotted off on his horse, Ranger beside him.

I looked back down to the animal, rubbing her thick neck. “It’s alright, momma. It’s over,” I said, pulling out my pistol. I stood and pointed the gun at her head. “Sorry, girl.”

I fired.

The gunshot echoed across the valley and like I expected, it spooked the herd. Thankfully, my boys had that handled. I found myself staring down at the animal, wondering what the fuck happened. It could have been wolves. She was heavily pregnant and that made her an easy target. She could have run into a tree or been taken to the ground. Who the hell knows.

Nature doesn’t show mercy, even to the ones creating life.

No one is safe from nature’s wrath.

A shoved my gun back into the holster and Beau came back with Ranger. Once I was mounted, he asked, “What do you think happened?”

My jaw tightened and I looked over at dead calf. “Wolves would be my guess.”

“We hunting?”

I pondered his question, my mind drifting back when my father would send me and Mason out to scout for wolves. Hundreds of nights, it was just us two, under the stars, protecting Hallow Ranch.

That was the way Pop wanted it.

Unfortunately for him, not everyone gets what they want.

“Yeah, I’ll put the twins on it tonight,” I answered.

“You’re the boss,” Beau replied. “The bitch gone?”

A small smirk formed on my lips. My cowboys hated Caleb’s mother and for a good reason, too. She was the one who nearly destroyed this ranch over a decade ago. That woman is vile and the only good thing she ever gave anyone was Caleb.

Our son was born from toxicity.

My boys say it’s a miracle he has a good soul. That boy’s soul was made of rainwater, pure, untouched, directly from heaven above.

“Yeah, she is,” I answered, adjusting my hat.

“Thank fuck for that,” he muttered, sitting up on his saddle.

I didn’t comment. There was no need. Any words spoken about Cathy were usually a waste of breath unless my son was involved.

“Let’s get the herd moved,” I ordered, kicking my feet as Ranger took off. The rest of the morning was spent bringing this half of the herd down to the pens.

The afternoon sun was not letting up.

Again, no mercy.

Especially for a cowboy like me.

Hours later, I was putting my hat on as I stepped out of the barn when a hunter green Dodge Ram barreled down the drive stretching between here and the house. I pulled out my bandana from my jeans and wiped the sweat from my neck as the driver hopped out from the vehicle.

It was Carson, the owner of the ranch next to mine. I lifted my chin to the man in greeting.

“Howdy,” he called out to me. He was wearing a black pearl snap and blue jeans with a cream gallon hat—new from the looks of it. A smile was plastered on his face that made my stomach twist.

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