Page 62 of The Lilac River

Time stopped.

Lily.

Holding my daughter like she was something precious.

Like we were something real.

God help me, I wanted to drop to my knees and beg time to rewind.

A hundred other lives flashed behind my eyes, ones where she stayed, ones where we raised Bertie together, ones where we never had to lie to survive.

"Thank you," I said, voice rough. “I wouldn’t ask but Gun and Wilder are out of town buying a new bull.”

"Go," she whispered. "We’ve got this."

I touched Bertie’s hair. Then Lily’s arm, quick, but enough. Enough to brand me.

Then I turned and ran.

The ride out to the west creek felt longer than usual, like the heat stretched time thin. My mind kept drifting back to the porch. To Lily’s hand on Bertie’s back. To the way my daughter looked in her arms, safe. Loved. Complete.

The guilt ate at me. Not just for what we’d lost. But for what we might never get back.

I shook it off as Brad Jenkins rolled up in his side-by-side, face redder than a rooster’s comb. Calvin Taylor, the other rancher whose land bordered ours, was already standing looking down into the creek. Like he’d be able to see the poison floating in the water.

"How’d that crap get in the creek if it wasn’t you?" Jenkins barked while getting out of his vehicle.

“I have no idea.” I wiped my forehead. "We don’t use pesticides. Never have."

He jabbed a finger at me. "They’re on your side."

"So are your damn cows half the time because you don’t keep your fences up to scratch," I snapped. "Doesn’t mean they’re mine."

Behind me, my crew was working fast. Dam bags, temporary barriers, anything to stop the leak before it flowed into neighboring fields. I’d already called Public Health. They’d test the water. Track it. But that would take weeks.

Weeks we didn’t have.

"If my herd’s poisoned?—"

"I’ll take responsibility if we’re to blame," I cut him off. "But don’t accuse me without proof. I care about this land more than anyone. We just need to wait and see what the water division say. But, like I said, it wasn’t us who dumped them.”

A hand clapped my shoulder. Calvin Taylor. Reliable as the mountains.

"I believe you, Nash," he said. His voice carried. Solid. Steady. Colorado born and bred. "You’ve always run clean. That counts for something."

Relief hit hard. Calvin’s word mattered in Silver Peaks. Especially out here where reputation was half your worth.

Brad muttered something about compensation and stomped back to his rig, kicking up dust as he peeled off.

"Keep me informed and you need help, you call," Calvin said, tipping his hat. Then he paused. "And don’t worry about Jenkins. I’d put money on someone on his ranch doing this before someone on yours.”

“Thanks.” I let out a long breath. “I could just do without the hassle.”

He moved to his horse. “Yeah, I heard Lily was back.”

I stiffened.

He just chuckled, said, "Guess that explains the smoke in your eyes." And he rode off, leaving me there in the dirt.

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