Page 1 of Billionaire Lumberjack's Bargain

ChapterOne

DALTON

Vultures circling only mean one thing.

Death has come to the mountain.

Given the number of them filling the sky, gliding in effortless loops high above the forest, whatever died isbig. Likely something that drew in an apex predator, and now, the scavengers are just waiting for it to abandon the carrion before they drop in for the scraps.

Dragging my gaze from them, I swing my axe again, slamming it into the log and sending the pieces flying off either side of the stump I use when chopping firewood.

Sweat trickles down my bare back, chest, and temples, and I swipe at it with my forearm to keep it from my eyes as I return to watching the ominous birds.

Everything dies.

It’s part of life no one can run from or escape.

Especially here on the mountain.

Seeing the large, dark birds waiting to swoop in usually doesn’t bother me. Nothing more than a necessary cycle. One every animal plays a role in—humans included.

But something about their placement to the northwest of the homestead, just slightly down the mountain from us, makes unease crawl up my spine.

That’s the Bower property…

Great-Uncle Tim’s old place.

And the Bowers have a young child up there who can’t be more than four, given how pregnant the wife was when they first rented from us.

By now, they could have more little ones.

Additional targets for any number of predators that lurk in the woods, waiting for something small and helpless to be unprotected.

A shudder rolls through me that I attempt to ignore.

It’s probably nothing…

Gritting my jaw, I return to splitting wood, trying to focus on the task at hand. Doing my best to ignore both the slight ache in my back and that nagging feeling in the recesses of my mind that something might be wrong.

If it were, they would get word to us or someone in town. They would ask for help, and like always, the people of James Creek would offer any they could.

That knowledge settles my nerves long enough for me to break down half a cord of firewood to add to what’s already in the shed in preparation for the coming winter.

This beautiful, unusually hot summer won’t last long.

Soon enough, Mother Nature will flip the switch, and the icy-cold winds and snow will blanket the Adirondacks.

Anyone not ready for it will be in a very bad place—where I refuse toeverfind myself. Even if it means working through the height of this heat and humidity, breaking down the firewood and getting it stored—and suffering for it later when it comes to my back.

By the time the sun reaches its peak in the sky and I step out of the shed, the vultures have either descended or given up and moved on. And I need to check in on Pops…

The old man has been left to his own devices for too long today.

God only knows what he’s gotten into back at the cabin.

Throwing my axe over my shoulder, I duck between the shed and the barn, moving across the well-worn path back toward home.

Sunlight filters through the heavy foliage of the surrounding trees, but it won’t be thick and green for long.

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