Page 21 of Blood Sweeter than Honey

“Oh, don’t look at me like that! It’s for the greater good! Remember?”

With a maniacal cackle, the portal seals shut, and thanks to whatever she’s poisoned me with, my consciousness abandons me moments later.

GIDEON

TERRENEAN REALM

With two well-placed fingers, my sharp whistle pierces the air.

“Come on, boy.”

Trigger, my beautiful half-beauceron mutt, lifts his head from a nearby bush before he bursts into a run to catch up with me as I urge Juniper into a gallop. Dark thunder clouds rumble in warning. It’s gone from clear skies to an impending thunderstorm in a matter of minutes, and I reckon I’ve got less than an hour—and about a hundred acres to cross—to get my cattle safe and sound in their barn before it pours. Some of which are the retired dairy cows and stud bulls I buy back, or cattle rescued from slaughter, who move a little slower than the rest; so I send out my three ranch hands to corral the retired cattle, while Trigger and I herd the rest.

As soon as I bought this land, I offered Beau, Levi, and a few of the other SEALs cattle shares and a plot on my ranch if they’d help me run it. When Levi and Beau both retired a few years later, they took me up on my offer.

The final piece to our little quartet is Gertie–the cowgirl who was a rather unconventional addition to our little squad two years ago. She knows more about ranching than I do, havinggrown up on one–not that she ever talks about the hundred-million-dollar mega-ranch she calls home. She knows just about every trick of the trade there is and has single-handedly saved my ass from having to file for bankruptcy because I ran head first into this with nothin’ but a hope and a prayer.

A thrill swells in my spirit as Trigger and I race across the hilly terrain of my mountainside pastures. I love this land with all of my heart; have poured my soul into it, to the point of registering it as an agricultural reserve to keep it protected from being destroyed by urban development. In return, this land and all the animals I get to care for onKincaid Cattle & Agricultural Reservehave repaid me tenfold by filling in nearly every fissure of my tattered heart.

Nearly.

The only part that remains empty is the woman-shaped hole in my chest. And while I’ve had a number of opportunities presented to me, there hasn’t been a single woman that seems to fit that space. In the depths of my soul, I could feel they weren’t for me and I’m far too scarred to invest myself in someone for the sake of not being alone. The fact that I may never meet this person, and very well might die alone is a bitter pill that I’ll begrudgingly swallow.

Secondsbefore we reach the barn, the skies finally weep. We’re soaked from head to toe, but it does nothing to dampen the fulfillment this place, this land, and these animals give me.

After filling the troughs, giving my bovine friends a thorough check to make sure no one’s injured or over-exerted themselvesin our rush, and giving Juniper a few extra juicy apples on top of her dinner, I leave Beau, Levi, and Gertie to take care of the rest while Trigger and I make our way back to my cabin.

When I grab the hose near the back door, his tail wags so furiously it makes his whole body sway. Tossing a bit of his oatmeal and aloe shampoo on his coat, I scrub all the dirt and mud off of him before hosing him down. Trigger chases the jet of water and snaps wildly at it—his favorite toy.

Stomping into the mud room, I begin to towel him dry at the same moment my landline rings. I’ve missed the call by the time I reach the phone and discover I have seven missed calls from Harlan, my small town’s sheriff, and a text message that sends my heart running for my throat.

Need you to come down to the station ASAP.

GIDEON

It takes me damn near two hours to reach Sheriff Harlan’s office, thanks to the downpour. Apparently, the matter is sodelicatehe couldn’t give me any details about it until I showed up in person. Which meant the whole ride here, my gut was twisting itself into knots as my mind conjured the worst.

Someone’s gotta be dead.

I have no idea who, because the only people I’d call friends are safe at the ranch, and the only blood relatives I know are gone.

Sheriff Harlan Clayton is standing at the front desk talking to his secretary, Deedee, when I burst through the door. Both gazes snap in my direction, and their relief is palpable at the sight of me. It only makes me more nervous.

Emblazoned with a gold sheriff’s badge, Harlan tips his Stetson at me in greeting as he pulls a gnawed-to-shit toothpick from his mouth. “Appreciate you comin’ all this way. Hope that storm out there didn’t trouble ya none.”

I have too much tension in my body to reply properly, and I’m not pleased with the fact he refused to tell me what the fuck is going on, forcing me to stew in anxiety for the last two hours.With a grunt, I follow him behind the counter and into a hall that leads to a singular interrogation room.

A room I’ve sat in on more than one occasion.

He stops in front of the interrogation room door, lifting both his hands in a placating gesture as his voice drops to barely above a whisper.

“Now look, I know this is a big ask, and I know you like to keep to yourself up on your ranch and all, but I just… I couldn’t really think of a better option.”

My chest is about to explode from the weight of anticipation, fear, and not-knowing what the shit is going on.

“Christ almighty, Harlan, would you just spit it out already?”

Harlan scrubs a hand down his face. “I found a woman lyin’ on the side of the road right beside Agamemnon National Reserve.”

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