Page 27 of Hopeful Cowboy

“He’s been the best inmate I’ve ever gotten from River Bay,” Ginger said.

“That’s what I like to hear.” Martin put his briefcase on the kitchen table and opened it. “Says here he’s got his brother’s son?”

“Yes,” Ginger said. “He’s doing great with him. At least he seems to be. They both seem to be eating and sleeping. Connor isn’t in school yet, so we have a rotation of cowboys and cowgirls that watch him out here.”

“Good, good.” Martin pulled out a paper. “We talked a lot last week, so if you’re comfortable with that, and you don’t have any other questions, I just need you to sign this.”

“I’m good,” Ginger said. She knew the drill. This wasn’t the first time she’d had a parole officer out to the ranch. She signed her name and added, “Should I call Nate and get him here?”

“If you would, please,” Martin said, taking a seat at the table. “If he’s as good as you say he is, this shouldn’t take long.”

Ginger nodded and stepped back to pull out her phone. She dialed Nate, and the line started ringing. And ringing. And ringing. He didn’t answer, and she got sent to voicemail. She frowned. “Strange,” she said, already dialing again. She’d only had to call him once in the past few weeks. Texting was much easier, and much less immediate, and anything she needed to talk with him about certainly wasn’t urgent.

He didn’t answer for a second time, and Ginger’s nerves heaved. “He’s not answering.”

Martin looked up from a stack of paperwork he’d pulled from his briefcase. “Should we go find him?”

“Sure,” she said, pocketing her phone. “He works in the stables. It’s not far.” She led him out of the house, trying to find something they could talk about on the ten-minute walk from the house to the stables. But her mind raced in so many different directions, she couldn’t land on any one topic.

They finally reached the stable that took her entire crew a week to paint and Ginger went down row F, where Nate usually worked. He wasn’t there. Everything was still and calm, and all the evidence pointed to the fact that he had been there. The horses had been fed; Domino’s leg had been re-bandaged. The tack was neat and polished and ready for use.

“Strange,” she said again. “This is where he should be.” She turned in a full circle, her embarrassment increasing with every moment that Nate didn’t appear.

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