Page 101 of Sweet Like Whiskey

I can hear Colton behind me as we race back toward the trails. I have to slow once we reach the forest’s cover, both for safety and because it’s gotten far too dark to see. I come to a stop, waiting for my brother to catch up. Once beside me, he pulls the headlamps out of his saddlebag, handing one over.

“You really think he would’ve gone out on his own?” Colton asks.

I don’t even have to consider it. “Yes.”

For that little girl? He would’ve gone in a heartbeat.

The damn fool.

I shake the thought loose immediately, hating it. Hatingmyselffor even thinking it. Ash isn’t a fool. He’s just a heartstrong man who would have wanted to help, who wouldn’t have thought of the dangers to himself above those to that little girl.

“If he’s not all right…” I say, shaking my head, unable to even think it.

My brother zips up the saddlebag. “He will be,” he says, flicking on his lamp. “C’mon. If we didn’t pass him earlier, he must be on another trail. Let’s try the northwest end.”

With a nod, I turn on my lamp, and the two of us take off. We shout occasionally, calling out Ash’s name, stopping to listen for a reply. There is none.

No answering call. No Shorty. No Ash.

We scour the black and yellow trails along the northern border of the woods. Follow them west toward the mountains. We ride along the blue trail and then the orange.

An hour later, my worry has reached a pinnacle. We called back home with the sat phone to check in with my mom, but no Ash. A few other ranchers followed us out, but we haven’t crossed paths with them, either.

When we come to a fork, Colton and I stop to regroup. We’re each a little breathless, both from the riding and all the shouting. The horses have got to be tired, but they won’t complain. They’re used to hard work. And we won’t push them past their limits.

“Thoughts?” Colton says.

I look down the two diverging trails. One leads straight west toward the mountains. The other veers south, back toward the cattle pastures.

“Fuck, I don’t know,” I admit.

“We’ll try one and then the other,” Colton says. He turns Clementine toward the southern trail when we hear something. A bray. “Is that…”

Both our heads swing toward the trail that leads west, our headlamps dimly lighting the path. I swear I hear a bell, and then…

“The Darling Donkey,” I realize, my pulse jumping. “Ash is that way. He’s gotta be.”

“You don’t know—Jack!”

“Stay with the donkey,” I call back to Colton, already taking off down the western trail. “If I don’t find Ash, the donkey will lead you there.”

My brother swears loudly. When Starlight and I pass the donkey on the trail, he turns and trots after us, but I don’t slow, knowing Colton will stay with him like I asked, even if he doesn’t like it. I shout Ash’s name, straining my ears, trying to listen past the pounding of my own heart. I stop after five minutes, shout, wait, listen. We go on.

We ride another ten minutes down the trail when I think I hear something. Starlight and I slow to a walk, and I listen.

“Ash?” I shout.

Again, I hear it. A faint call. I urge Starlight on, and when we come around a bend, my heart nearly falls to my feet.

Shorty.

Alone.

Starlight and I rush forward, and the moment we’re close, I swing off his back, jogging a few steps to slow my momentum. “Ash?” I shout again.

“Down here.”

I whirl around, sweeping my headlamp over the area. “Keep talking,” I say loudly. “I don’t see you.”

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