Page 15 of A Mile of Ocean

“It’s a good thing I’m an outdoorsy kind of girl. I look forward to it. Goodnight, Trent.”

“Goodnight, Savannah,” he whispered as he took her chin and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “A sample of more to come.”

Maybe the crisp night air or the heat between them had her hesitating to leave him. “That’s tempting enough to stay, but it’s too soon.”

“I know.”

As she drove away, the rain stopped, the clouds rolled eastward, and moonlight and stars illuminated the driveway down to the gate. He watched her turn onto the road and couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight had marked the beginning of something profound, something that neither of them could fully understand yet.

He could almost picture his grandfather sending him a knowing wink. Without realizing it, he smiled and looked skyward. “Yeah, I thought you’d approve of that.”

Chapter Four

The reality of their loss hit hard at dawn Saturday morning as Trent showed up at the bunkhouse to make breakfast for his men. He had expected to get an earful from them because law enforcement had checked their weapons, but no one complained.

“We want to find out who did this,” Woody said. “Barrett was like an older brother to me. Duchess is like my sister. You guys are family. All of you are my family. Been that way for three decades.”

Cecil nodded. “Losing Barrett still hasn’t sunk in yet; I probably won’t ever get used to him being gone. It doesn’t matter much to me checking my rifle. I haven’t fired it for weeks. I didn’t even know Barrett had been hurt until Colt Del Rio and that new guy showed up, wanting to check our guns.”

“Colt came out to where I was in the north forty to check my rifle. But he also checked my .22 pistol,” Blake added. “I turned both over to him, no problem. Good thing neither had been fired for a month, or I might’ve spent the night in jail.”

“We cooperated with the cops,” Toby said, digging into his stack of flapjacks. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Same here,” Brock echoed. A skinny kid of nineteen and the youngest of the bunch added, “They said they was doing a background check on all of us. I told them to go ahead and check me out as long as I don’t lose my job.”

“Are we losing our jobs?” Monty asked, older than Brock by two years and had just reached legal drinking age. “I’ll take a lie detector. Last night at sunset, all of us were right here watching the Angels play the A’s. Nobody’s mentioned we got alibis.”

“He’s right,” Toby declared. “We were all here watching the game.”

Trent took a seat at the long dining table, which was made from a slab of walnut. He picked up his fork and tasted the eggs. “Not bad. Pass me those pancakes, will you, Blake?”

Blake sent the platter around the table. “How’s Tate managing?”

“Not good,” Trent returned, knowing Blake had had a crush on Tate since high school. “All of you might give Tate and Dolly some space or, at the very least, approach with caution. That goes for my grandmother. Right now, they’re devastated. Give them some time to pull themselves together before the funeral.”

“You didn’t answer us about losing our jobs,” Monty pointed out, pouring syrup over his pancakes.

“No one is losing their jobs,” Trent assured them. “And no one thinks any of you would’ve hurt Barrett. So don’t go getting your feathers ruffled over something law enforcement suspects. From now on, I’ll have a lot on my plate. But don’t ever sit around and stew over something you’re ticked off about. Come to me, and we’ll talk it out like we always have. Nothing much will change with the day-to-day operations. Keep doing what you’re doing and know we all value each other here. We always have. Any questions?”

Blake cleared his throat. “A woman was looking for you last night. Gorgeous redhead. Did she find you?”

Trent felt relieved that the men seemed back on an even keel. He grinned at Blake’s question. “She found me. She’ll be around here this summer with Tate, teaching kids to ride.”

“Sure. That’s why she’s here to teach the kids to ride,” Blake cracked. “Great cover story, bro.”

The guys around the table tittered with laughter like a bunch of girls at a sorority house. That’s when Trent realized everything would get back to normal sooner rather than later.

After breakfast with the guys, he entered the main house and noticed the phone wouldn’t stop ringing. A blur of messages kept streaming in every time Dolly let the landline in the kitchen go to voicemail.

“You think this is bad? Wait until you see the dining room,” Dolly complained. “The buffet is full of food. I’m running out of room to put stuff.”

Trent strolled into the dining room to see that friends and neighbors had dropped off food of every kind—casserole dishes lined the table, two hot-out-of-the oven quiches, an assortment of baked goods like croissants and bagels were laid out on the side table next to bags of apples and oranges, pies, and cakes.

“All this came this morning?”

“Yep, along with notes and condolences,” Dolly replied.

“Have you seen Duchess?”

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