Page 13 of Live for Me

My boss looked up to the sky, reaching back to adjust his hat. “Five calves,” he repeated.

“Where do you want to move the herd?” Lawson asked, closing his saddle back and grabbing his reins before turning his horse to face the herd.

“Move them to three.”

“This is Sheriff Bowen,” Chase answered on the fifth ring.

“What took you so long?” I asked, shooting Denver a look.

“Beau? What’s going on?” he demanded.

“Need you to call Forest Ranger Dipshit and have him send a team out here,” I told him.

Chase sighed. “Beau, you have got to stop calling him that.”

“I don’t have to do anything, Bowen. We have a dead calf, and I spotted a grizzly on the property a few days ago. We think he’s looking for a female.”

“Fine. I’ll give Paul a call, but when he gets out there, could you do me a favor? Be fucking nice to him.”

“Cowboys aren’t nice to assholes,” Denver said from beside me, watching the herd still.

My lips twitched. “You get that, Chase?”

“I hate both of you,” he said before hanging up.

“He’s in a mood,” I said, putting the phone away.

“Always is this time of year,” Denver rumbled, looking down the carcass.

My eyes followed his. “You want me to take care of it?”

He shook his head. “Leave it. Maybe the damn thing will come back for seconds. The body is only a few hours old.”

Denver moved away then, heading to the herd, and I remained still, staring down at the blood-soaked grass. Life and death. It was a constant cycle, never ending.

Swallowing, I looked over the mother, who still hadn’t moved despite the herd slowly being shuffled away from her. Her eyes were on her baby, her ears twitching. Sighing, I turned Spirit to face her and slowly guided us to her. She didn’t flinch or run, remaining perfectly still.

“I’m sorry, mama,” I said to her, Spirit circling her.

My chest still ached as I lassoed her, and led her out of the field, leaving her baby to rot beneath the sweltering summer sun.

“Hey Beau!” Caleb shouted from the front porch swing, waving a thick book in his hand.

I gave him a half-smile, jerking my chin. “What are you reading, kid?” I asked, closing the distance to the porch, stopping at the bottom step. Valerie needed help with the kitchen sink and Denver was dealing with the Ranger Dipshit still, so he sent me back here to help her out.

“ReadingThe Book Thief,” he answered, opening the book up again.

I lifted my brows. “Really?”

Caleb’s brows furrowed as he read a page, nodding. “Yeah, I have to do a report on it by the end of the summer.”

The front door opened to reveal Valerie, who wore a lilac sundress with tiny white daisies on it. Her green eyes were bright today, her long, dark hair twisted back, leaving a few strays hanging around her face as she beamed at me. Despite the light in her eyes, I could still see the sadness flickering within them. The third anniversary of her mother’s death wasapproaching and every year, the woman who lit up Denver’s world dimmed a little. “Hey, Beau.”

I tipped my hat to her. “Hey, Val,” I murmured. I looked around her, searching for the wild, adorable toddler I’d come to love so dearly. “Where’s NJ?”

“She’s napping—finally,” Val said, laughing a bit. She looked over to her stepson, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh. You’ve already started, Caleb?”

He looked up from his book. “I wanted to get it done and get the essay out of the way. There’s no sense waiting until August to start,” he told her, sounding more and more like his father than ever before.

---