Page 58 of Relentless

It was all she needed to say.

“I need your help, Mom,” he said, correcting his tone.

Maeve pulled on her aviator sunglasses and tucked her beanie cap over her ears.

“Oakleigh, let’s go.”

She took a breath and slowly forced the air through her lips, regaining control of her emotions. Following Maeve outside, Oakleigh cringed as the stinging cold air hit her once again.

Maeve saddled up the horses while Sawyer tossed Oakleigh a set of keys.

“You’re on the sled,” he ordered. “And take it slow for once.”

She would have fired back a snarky comment, but she could sense that Maeve was at her limit. Knowing that she was sensitive to harsh yelling in the house, Oakleigh was already regretting the escalation with her mother.

Discovering the sled she would be towing was loaded with tools, wire, and posts, she now understood why Sawyer had been so stern. Losing control and veering into a tree would definitely not be a cute way to go.

She straddled the snowmobile and hit the gas, following the two on horseback at a distance until they reached the far end of the East Pasture.

Oakleigh pulled the sled up close, noticing immediately that the fresh, pure white snow was stained crimson red. Steeling her nerves, she joined their side, finally laying eyes on the clawed remains of one of their prized cattle.

“It’s not one of the Slims —” Oakleigh stammered, barely getting the words out. She gulped hard, resisting the urge to add the contents of her stomach to the horrible mess.

“No,” Maeve confirmed. “Thank the Lord.” She stood to her feet, swiping the snow off her pants with her gloved hand. “But we’ll need to bring in the herd.”

“Agreed,” Sawyer said, mounting his horse. “Leave the supplies, Oakleigh. I’ll get the boys to take care of the fence and clean up.” He tugged on the reins, guiding the horse down the fence line.

The mare’s ears flattened, whipping her head toward a dense cluster of trees.

“What is it, girl,” Sawyer asked, cutting his words short as a low growl came through the brush.

The frightened horse began to sidestep, buck, and rear.

“Woah girl, woah,” he said, gripping the reins, struggling to maintain control. Even Sawyer’s prowess in bronc riding couldn’t have kept him in the saddle as the horse bucked him high in the air.

Sawyer hit the ground hard.

Stunned by the fall, he hadn’t realized his boot had caught in the stirrup. The panicked mare charged down the fence line in a flash, yanking the cowboy behind her. The soft, fresh powder did little to cushion the jagged rocks or sharp brush as he was whipped across uneven ground.

Even amid the chaos, Sawyer’s expertise was unmatched. He finally shimmied his boot free and slid to a stop facedown in the snow.

It all happened in a blink.

Arriving at Sawyer’s side, Maeve slid to her knees in the slick, icy slush.

He was out cold.

“What do we do?” Oakleigh choked out, struggling to keep pace. She gasped to fill her lungs with the sharp, frigid air.

“Get the radio, and call for Crew,” Maeve ordered. “Dump everything off the sled and bring it over.”

“You want Crew to meet us here?” Oakleigh stuttered, her mind going blank.

“That bear is going to circle back,” Maeve shook her head. “We have to get out of here.”

Oakleigh felt cemented to the ground, the familiar scene bringing back the haunting images of Crew’s horrific accident with Big Slim.

“Quick now, Oakleigh,” Maeve commanded. “Move!”

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