Page 35 of Sweet Surprise

An expression of understanding took over his son’s face, and Mason nodded, his attention returning to the land in the distance. No doubt scanning for those wild horses.

They crossed into the northwestern section of the ranch, the landscape as flat and dusty ahead as it had been behind them. Carson pulled the Jeep to a stop near a fallen tree. “We’ll park here. There’s a section of fence several yards ahead that needs fixing. From there, we’ll set up the telescope.”

“You can draw or look for the horses. Whichever you prefer.” Jess hopped out of the Jeep. “I’m going to help Carson with the fence. Or at least try to.”

“You’ll do fine. Mom used to work with Dad before any of us were born. The trick is to learn how to string barbed wire without losing a finger.”

Jess gave him a look.

“Kidding,” Carson said with a laugh. “Mostly.”

They gathered their supplies—Carson’s tools, a small cooler with lunch, and Mason’s all-important optical equipment. The walk was pleasant, with Mason charging ahead then doubling back every few minutes to report on interesting rocks or lizards he’d spotted.

“There’s the fence.” Carson pointed to where a section had fallen, they suspected all of this recent damage was thanks to the newly migrated horses.

Mason immediately set up his position, unzipping his backpack, the binoculars around his neck, the telescope nearby. A deep frown for a young boy formed between his brows. “I don’t see them.”

“You keep watching.” Carson smiled. “Give us a heads-up when you spot them.”

For the next half hour, Carson showed Jess how to remove the damaged wire and string a new section. She was a quick learner, and he found himself enjoying her determination to master each task, but more than that, he simply enjoyed her company. Anyone would think that having to spend all day, every day, with a person would begin to wear thin, but so far, every minute of time with Jess had become very special to him.

“Out of curiosity,” Jess pulled her hand out of the glove and sucked on a pricked finger, “what happens if a ranch hand gets hurt out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“All ranch vehicles are a bit of a combination of tool shed and first aid station. Usually we have enough supplies nearby for a minor incident.” He pulled her hand away from her mouth and looked at her finger. “Give me a second.”

She stuck the finger back in her mouth.

“Here we go.” From one of his sacks, he pulled out some antiseptic ointment and a Band-aid. “This will fix it up.”

Her gaze softened as he tended to her finger. “Not bad for a real estate developer.”

Carson smiled at her, wishing he didn’t have to let go of her hand. “Once a rancher, always a rancher. We all keep our hands in the family business, and deep down, we all love it at least a little.”

Staring at her bandaged finger, she frowned. “What happens if someone is really hurt?”

His mind scurried back to when they’d found their mother trapped in the barbed wire not that many months ago. “We thank God for cell phones. Alert fellow hands. But in a pinch, there are line shacks scattered all over the property.”

“Line shack?”

“Small cabins, really. The hands use them when they’re working far out and need shelter from an unexpected turn of bad weather. Sometimes a small injury might require holding up for a bit until help can come.”

“Like ranger stations?” Jess wiped her forehead with her forearm.

“Exactly. There’s one not far from here. When we finish up, I’ll show you. Not that we expect to put you to work, but it doesn’t hurt to know where they are in case of emergency.”

The rest of the repair job went quickly. To Mason’s chagrin, no horses appeared, but he had a great time drawing a bird that seemed to be delighted to stay perfectly still and pose for him. After a simple lunch of sandwiches and fruit, Carson drove them to a small, weathered cabin standing lonely in the middle of nowhere.

“This is one of the oldest ones.” He shoved the door open wide. The cabin was simple—one room with a small wood stove, a basic twin bed hewn from ancient two by fours, some shelves with canned goods, an ancient table with two chairs, and a large mound dead center of the cabin with a dirty sheet tossed over it. “What the heck?”

“I’m guessing this is not part of the standard stock?” Jess moved to stand beside him.

“No.” Pulling back the old sheet, he froze. “That son of a—” he caught himself, glancing at Mason. “This is impossible.”

“What is it?” Jess grabbed hold of his arm.

“A hay baler. And not just any hay baler.” Carson pulled the tarp away completely, revealing a gleaming piece of machinery. “This is one of the custom balers Dad ordered right before he died. We thought Ray had sold it off with the other equipment he stole.”

“Could there have been a mistake?” Her hand on his arm, her voice came out very low.

---