Page 9 of For Him

The most piercing of blues. A blue I’d never forget set beneath the strongest brows.

“YOU!” I said, and a small smile briefly caressed his face.

“Hey there,” he replied, studying me.

I remained silent for a moment, simply staring at the swirling ocean cobalt irises surrounding his pupils.

He brushed his hand over the sleeve of his gray Carhartt coat and then spoke, “I wondered if you’d recognize me or not. You seemed a bit frenzied that night.”

“I think the lack of light should’ve been the reason you’d wonder that. I barely saw anything but your eyes and surprisingly decentmustache.” My gaze caressed his features, wanting to soak it all in. Every trimmed facial hair that coated his wide set jaw, a large scar that ran beneath his left eye, down across his cheek towards the lower corner of his face.

The moment my eyes rested upon the thick scar, he swunghis face away and pulled the hat lower on his head.

“It’s nice to officially meet you, Mr. Duke,” I softly said, oddly drawn to this quiet man.

“And you, Doctor Mayn,” he answered and glanced my way just momentarily before returning his gaze towards the hills in front of us. His thick hands, covered in worn leather gloves, adjusted the deep green wild rag tucked around his neck. He propped one foot up on the bottom rail, his spur ringing out.

“So, where are we headed?” I asked, and his turquoise eyes came towards me once more.

“The valley that I assume the heifers drifted towards is over yonder. It’s warmer there this time of year,” he answered, pushing off of the rail.

“Then why didn’t anyone find them until a couple weeks later?” I asked, following him through the pen and towards a Razor that was parked along the dirt road.

“Are you accusing us of being negligent?”he snarled in my direction, ripping open the passenger door for me and crossing around the front of the vehicle.

“No.”

“Then why’s it matter?” He pulled himself into the driver’s seat as I buckled myself in and shut the door.

“Because I’m trying to understand how they got poisoned,” I replied as he turned the key over and the engine roared to life.

“You are accusing us.”

“Am not!” I shouted. That got hot fast.

“Then it don’t matter!”he snarled back, whipping the side-by-side around and slamming it into drive. We were tearing up the side of the mountain before I had time to reply, and I quickly latched onto the handles as he ripped in and out of the trees, higher and higher up. We were no longer following any sort of pathway as we dropped down a hill and emerged into a very small valley.

Weston rammed the Razor into park and killed the engine as I stared at the open space around me. I hesitated, afraid to ask another question, but one was bubbling up beneath the surface.

“This isn’t a usual pasture area?” I quietly questioned.

“No. Not enough space for the whole herd. Plus, it’s quite far out from where we can keep an eye on the cattle. But the biggest reason we don’t use it for grazing land is the wildlife that frequent here. Quite a few cows have been killed in this meadow within an hour of them escaping because of that.” He paused and pulled himself out of the Razor. “Most of the usual spots the cattle run to were empty when we went looking after the two heifers first disappeared,” he shortly replied.

“And you didn’t look here since they were more than likely already dead,” I mumbled, climbing out of the vehicle.

“Obviously,” he snapped and didn’t even glance my way as we began wandering the open meadow. It was a beautiful, small glen with a brook that softly bubbled along the edge. I could feel the temperature difference here, like he’d said; it was warmer, despite the snowflake I watched flutter to the ground.

One single, thick white frozen flake of water settled onto the ground next to the very plant I was looking for.

I tilted my head, suspicion rising within my stomach. This locoweed was all but dried up, as if it had been cut and placed here deliberately, notgrowing from the ground.

“Mr. Duke?” I called out, crouching down and picking up a stick. Hoof prints were thick in the mud around this small pile oddly, like the two heifers had nowhere else to go and been forced to eat it.

“You found it,” Weston breathed out beside me, squatting down to join me.

“It’s odd though. It doesn’t look like it was growing here. See this?” I pushed the stems around with the stick and they easily moved, not ripping from the ground or disturbing any soil.

“As Cassidy probably said, we don’t let locoweed grow here,” he sharply said and stood up, placing some in a plastic bag from his pocket.

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