Page 25 of A Mile of Ocean

They continued their tour, passing the mechanic’s and blacksmith’s shop, Trent’s office, and the bunkhouse, where he introduced his men to their security team.

“Just make sure you don’t shoot any of us,” Blake cautioned. “I’m usually working the north pasture where the cattle are. I often go back and forth all day to the barn and stables.”

“This is a good idea,” Hawk said. “We probably need to know each man’s whereabouts on the property while they go about their jobs.”

“They work hard during the day, eat supper and breakfast inside the bunkhouse, and sleep here each evening,” Trent explained while showing them around. “They each have their own bedroom, a rec room, a mess hall, and shower facilities in the bathroom.”

“It works like a firehouse,” Cecil said. “We take turns cooking our meals. We eat, sleep, and depend on each other twenty-four-seven.”

“We get holidays off and vacation time,” Woody tossed in. “But the six of us almost feel like our job is a holiday, mostof the time. We get to work with animals, ride horses, and get free rent and board. We’re usually a happy bunch. That is, until Friday night.”

After each man had recited their duties and what part of the ranch was their responsibility, the tour ended where it began by returning to the main house where his grandmother and Tate waited in the parlor.

With sharp and discerning eyes, Duchess assessed the newcomers with a mix of curiosity and trust in her grandson’s judgment.

“Duchess, this is Eli Hawk and his team, Lincoln, Slade, and Drum. And my sister, Tate Callum,” Trent said by way of introduction. “These guys are on the clock beginning now. The goal is to keep us all safe.”

Tate shook hands with each man. “I usually start my day in the haybarn and end up feeding the mares between eight-thirty and ten o’clock. You can usually find me there in the middle of the property dubbed Painted Heart—that’s where the name came from for the foundation because we started by trying to save five Indian Paint ponies from a herd in Wyoming—anyway, all our rescued mares are now located in the heart of the property.”

“Trent showed us Painted Heart,” Lincoln said. “Not that I could find it again in the dark.”

That earned him a glower from Hawk. “You wouldn’t happen to have a map of the entire spread, would you, with each section clearly marked?”

“You didn’t hand out maps?” Tate asked her brother. “We have several in Granddad’s study. I’ll go make copies for all of you. The map breaks up each section of land and notes whether it’s used for horses or cattle. But only the property’s northern edge is used for cattle, so it’s fairly easy to remember.”

“Welcome to chaos,” Duchess stated, spreading her arms wide. “It shakes us up when there’s a nut out there with a rifle. I hope you’ll find everything you need. If not, don’t hesitate to ask someone. Dolly Hinton is our cook and housekeeper. She can tell you where to find anything if I’m not around.”

“Thanks, ma’am, for your hospitality,” Hawk replied respectfully. “Thank you for having us. While three of us are in the field, one person will always be at the house if you need them. We’ll use the main house as our base. We’ll keep in touch with Trent and the bunkhouse, maintaining radio contact with them throughout each night. But right now, we’d like to change clothes, get back outside, set up our equipment, and do our reconnaissance before nightfall.”

“By all means, make yourselves at home.”

While the four men went upstairs to change, Savannah pulled Trent aside to say her goodbyes.

“I enjoyed tonight very much. I like your family.”

“I’m glad. Call me when you make it home and let me know you got there safely. Okay? Will you do that?”

“No need to worry about me, Trent,” Savannah said softly. “But I will absolutely call you to say goodnight.”

Trent drew her closer, lightly kissing her lips, taking a moment to draw strength from her presence. “I’ll walk you out.”

“I wish we could go somewhere and be alone, don’t you?”

“When this is over,” Trent maintained as he watched her get settled in her SUV. As she drove down the driveway, the stress of the day’s events suffocated him like a wool blanket on a hot day.

He angled back toward the house, where Hawk and his team stood wearing not jeans but camo tactical gear with bulletproof vests. They were already hard at work setting up their surveillance equipment. The sense of urgency wasunmistakable. But Trent couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope. These men were professionals, and their presence promised a semblance of security that had been absent since the murder.

Inside the house, his grandmother busied herself with preparations for Barrett’s funeral, her calm demeanor steadying the household. She was a pillar of strength, a testament to the resilience that had seen the family through countless hardships.

As daylight faded, Tate handed out the maps while Dolly bagged snacks and poured coffee into four separate thermos bottles for Hawk and his team, preparing them for the long night ahead. “You need anything else? The kitchen is never closed around here.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Drum said, taking his thermos.

“Who’s staying behind?” Tate asked. “At the house tonight?”

“I am,” Slade acknowledged with a raised hand. “I’ll set up in the sunroom at the back of the house.”

She decided that the man looked positively at home in his chosen field. His steely demeanor and intensity were the epitome of professionalism. But something about his decision to remain on the ground floor didn’t feel right to her.

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