Page 21 of Combust
“…we let them range a bit more this time of year, so they can choose the best forage,” Dane was saying as they rode past thirty or forty head of peacefully grazing Galloway cattle. They were a heritage breed that Cade hadn’t seen very often. “And move them every two or three days, so that they’ll only take off twenty-five to forty percent of the grass height in a particular area.”
Cade nodded. He was familiar with the principles of rotational grazing, thanks to his experience working for the Barenbachs. It made for a heap of extra work on the rancher’s part, but it helped preserve the diversity of the plants growing in a pasture, and permitted them to grow back faster, producing higher productivity, especially in arid areas.
As they rode up into the hills, Dane continued to describe the sustainable ranching practices that he and his family had implemented over the past twenty years.
Cade listened closely, though he felt intoxicated by the clean, fresh air, and the scents of rolling, grass-and-sagebrush covered hills with a backdrop of rugged ridges and peaks.
This here’s a genuine paradise for a bear shifter,he thought, taking in the spectacular views surrounding him. He could hardly wait for his first day off. He planned to let his bear out to roam these acres and explore them on four paws.
It stirred.I want to stay.It sounded a bit plaintive.
Cade found himself nodding.Me too, buddy. Me too.
Winter was clearly on its way to these mountains. The tops of the ridges and the high peaks beyond were already capped with snow.
He guessed from this point on, that line of white would creep down the steep slopes with every storm, until it reached the valley floor, blanketing the river bottom pastures with fluffy snow and freezing the creeks and rivers.
It had been a long time since he’d lived in a place with a snowy winter. He was looking forward to it.
As they gained altitude, the horses following a narrow dirt trail at a steady walk, the open sagebrush pasture land gradually vanished, replaced by a forest comprised of pine, spruce, and fir. Scattered patches of snow lay in the shadier spots, sparkling in the noonday sun.
“Our family’s Christmas tree grove is just ahead,” Dane said over his shoulder as the trees closed in around them. “The family always heads up here on Black Friday to cut trees. We make a day of it, with a picnic and everything.”
Cade grunted in response. He fuckinghatedChristmas, with all of the bad memories and the old but still wickedly potent grief it stirred up.
He hoped fervently that his provisional status meant that he wouldn’t be forced to participate in whatever holiday festivities the Swansons decided to hold.
I’m only the hired help, after all. Not a real clan member. And not family.
They rode on for another few minutes, the trail winding steadily up-slope.
The patches of snow grew wider and more frequent, glittering expanses pierced here and there by the dry brown stalks of last summer’s grass and wildflowers.
Then the trail came to an end in a clearing. The snow here was dirty with rust-red mud. It had been trampled by booted feet, lots of ’em, crisscrossed by tire tracks that looked like they’d come from a whole fleet of ATVs.
Dane halted his horse. Cade reined in his own mount beside his new boss.
“They’regone?” Dane asked, sounding shocked. His gaze swept the clearing from one end to another. “Allof them?”
That was when Cade noticed the rows of pale, freshly-cut stumps poking through the muddy-stained, churned-up snow.
“Looks like Christmas came early forsomeone,”he commented dryly.
Chapter Seven - Provisional
Dane frowned at the comment, his mouth drawn tight into an unhappy line. Cade decided to keep his trap shut before he caused offense his very first day on the job.
“My brother Evan mentioned that the Forest Service has been seeing more poachers lately, of various kinds,” Dane said, finally. “Looks like we need to add Christmas tree poaching to the list.”
Cade shot him an incredulous look. “Folks around here rustleChristmas trees?” It sounded like a bad joke.
Dane blew out a sigh. “Prime Douglas firs, like the ones we had growing here, fetch top price in the city,” he explained. “Christmas tree poachers can rake in a tidy sum, especially since they’re getting the trees for free by stealing them.”
Okay, so maybe not a joke, thought Cade.
Aloud, he said, “But it’s only the beginning of November! Christmas is still a ways off. Who the hell is gonna buy and decorate a tree this early? Besides the stores and malls, I mean,” he added.
He’d noticed that Christmas shopping season was starting earlier and earlier every year. At this rate, people would be hanging their stockings right after the Fourth of July.
