Page 30 of Love Me Fierce

“Everett,” she answers, sounding pleased. “Logan’s out in the barn. Do you need me to go fetch him?”

This afternoon, Mom picked up Logan and I’m sure by now he’s deep in barn chores with Dad.

“No, I’m on my way,” I answer, keeping one eye on my rearview. “Sepp already call you about lending the cabin to a friend of ours?”

When Linden dropped out of high school, he and I foraged building materials while he sketched out an idea for a cabin on the east edge of the property. It took a year to build and the help of a family friend in the construction business, but completing it was the beginning of a turning point in Lind’s life. It’s rustic but cozy, with a simple kitchen area, woodstove, and a loft. It’s even somewhat private, which was Linden’s goal back then.

“Sepp’s coworker, Vivian, right?” The hinges on the back screen door squeak, like she’s coming in from outside. Probably to monitor whatever she’s got in the oven. Now that she’s only teaching half-time, she uses her extra energy to bake.

“Yes, and her seven-year-old son, Mateo.”

“Wonderful. I’ll get out there and put sheets on the bed and get your dad to bring up dry firewood.”

“I can do that,” I reply.

“Think they’ll want to join us for supper?”

It would sure be a nice way to end what I’m sure has been an ordeal for Vivian, but I’m not going to assume that’s what she wants. “Maybe. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

“All right. I’ll make plenty, just in case. And I’ll cut up some watermelon. Sounds like everyone could use a snack.”

Mom has no doubt read the situation. I say goodbye and continue past the intersection that leads to Finn River Ranch, the exclusive members-only residential property and resort run by the St. Claire family. After we skirt the edge of town, the lake shining in themuted evening sun below us, we cross the bridge and the road climbs up a gentle rise.

My parents own fifty acres of benchland prairie where they run a small herd of heifers, bordered by Saddleback Mountain to the east and Bitterroot Canyon to the south. I turn up Ruby Gulch, ascending through a band of aspen turning gold mixed with tall spruce, making sure Vivian is still behind me, then turn up our driveway.

I follow the gravel drive along the split rail fencing toward the house complex, pausing at the gate to enter the code. Once we’re through, the farmhouse with the river rock chimney shaded by tall aspens comes into view followed by the detached garage with the apartment above it next door. Behind them is the horse pasture, barn, and beyond that, framed by Saddleback Mountain, is the prairie dotted with dad’s herd. Leading to the right, along Grouse Creek, a narrow dirt road curves out of sight to the cabin Linden and I built in a shaded grove of aspens. I’ll show it to Vivian later, after supper.

Compared to some of the newer properties like those inside Finn River Ranch, Ruby Gulch isn’t fancy, but it’s home and where all my good memories of growing up begin.

Vivian parks next to me.

The hounds come racing around the house, no doubt alerted by the kick of gravel from our approach, barking and wagging their tails. I step down to greet them, then quickly remove my vest and duty belt and lock up my service weapon in the trunk. I’ll change clothes later.

Mateo’s eyes turn anxious when he sees the dogs. I squat down behind him and offer the dogs my hand. “Let them sniff you. It’s their way of saying hello.”

Tentatively, he puts out his fist.

Libby wags her tail and gives him a soft lick, then Chip steps closer, poking his nose under Mateo’s arm and licking his shirt.

Mateo’s giggle is like a ray of sunshine. “Hey, that’s my armpit!”

Vivian crouches down, too, and gives each dog a quick pet on their heads.

“You like watermelon, Mateo?” I ask him, standing up just as Sepp pulls in, his music blaring.

“Uh huh,” Mateo replies, the fear gone from his eyes as he takes my hand.

The touch of his palm in mine makes my chest tighten. It’s no small thing to feel trusted, and I soak it in as we walk to the porch.

Vivian falls in next to me, and I brace myself for her to object to me holding her kid’s hand. Or maybe she’s too frazzled to notice.

I smile down at Mateo. “How about puppies? You like those too?”

Mateo gazes up at me with a look of awe that soaks all the way into my heart. “What puppies?”

“Dad’s black Lab Bertie has six of em. They’re out in the barn.”

“Can we, Mom?” Mateo asks, leaning past me to look at her.

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