Page 5 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

Maybe it’s for Camille and her son—or Pops.

Either way, I have to deal with it.

There isn’t anyone else who can…

“I’ll go up there and check on them.”

Sheriff Wilson releases a little grunt of confirmation. “Let me know if I’m needed up there.”

“Will do.”

I return the handset to the cradle and stare at Pops’ desk.

The normally immaculate, polished surface is cluttered with various papers in apparently no order, instead of properly filed away like they always have been within the drawers Pops always keeps locked.

That’s changed, too.

A physical manifestation of whatever’s happening in his head.

What’s going on with you, Pops?

Besides chaos…

I release a heavy sigh and climb to my feet, pushing the chair back under the desk where it was. He may remember how he left it, and he can’t know I was in here without him. Or he might not remember at all…

Which would be worse?

An ache blooms in my chest, and I rub at it as I step back into the living room, listening for any signs of him inside, but he hasn’t moved from his spot on the porch.

I quickly throw together a sandwich for him and bring it out, setting it on the small table between the two chairs. “Here you go, Pops. I’m going to head over to the Bower property. Make sure everything’s okay.”

He raises his gaze to meet mine. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“The vultures…”

His brow furrows. “Oh, right.” He nods slowly. “Good thinking.”

“I’ll be back, but it might not be before dinner.”

Pops pats me on the arm. “Be careful, kid.”

The same words he has said to meeveryday somehow hit differently today.

He’s always worrying about me as if I’m still that little boy, and he seems completely oblivious to the fact that he should be worried abouthimself.

“I always am, Pops.”

I squeeze his shoulder before I step down off the back porch and head out toward the barn. Apollo neighs from inside his stall when he sees me coming, his head bobbing in his excitement because I haven’t been by since before the sun came up.

“Hey, buddy.” I rub his neck, and he leans into my touch, eager for what he can already anticipate is coming. “Let’s go for a ride.”

He prances as I lead him out to saddle up for the ride to the Bower property.

It would be easier to take the truck and drive but far faster to take the direct route through the woods on horseback, which also allows me the opportunity to watch for any signs of what might have drawn the vultures in earlier today.

I mount and tug gently on the reins, directing him to head across the mountain in a northwesterly direction.

The closer I get to Uncle Tim’s old place, the more a familiar scent lingers in the air underneath that of the smoke from the cabin the Bowers now live in.

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