Page 40 of Wildest Forever

Dragging my duvet back over my head, I force my eyes shut and try and fall back to sleep but it is no use.

I have spent an hour tossing and turning and finally decide to call it a day. Sitting up, I stretch and then toss the covers from me as my feet touch the thick carpet beneath me, toes scrunching as I glance over my shoulder and see the sun still shining.

Summer in Montana is my favorite, but it doesn't last as long as I needed it to.

The winters are harsh and long.

The days seem darker than light, and the work feels ten times harder.

Pushing from the bed, I make my way to the bathroom to splash my face and brush my teeth before I make my way downstairs.

It's quiet and I know I am the only one awake so I make a start on the laundry before I put a fresh pot of coffee on and keep it warm.

Opening the fridge, I raid it to find something to make a nice breakfast for Pacey and pops. Placing all I need from the fridge on the worksurface, I move to the small pantry cupboard that sits over the back of the kitchen and sigh when I see the egg house empty.

Closing the door softly, I walk across into the small hallway and open the closet and grab my trench coat, wrapping it around my slender body as I unlock the front door and the crisp morning air fills my lungs.

Wrapping the coat around me a little more, I close the door behind me and duck out. The skies are pink, the trees softly dancing in the summer breeze. The air smells sweet, the sound of the narrow stream that runs behind the ranch trickling. Dusty will already be with the horses, the heifers are over the hill and we have two cowboys sitting up top overnight watching them, while Dusty takes the day shift.

The sound of my rubber boots crunch over the loose stones as I make my way to the coop, glancing over the rolling green hills and see a couple of the geldings out and grazing.

We really wanted to get Bonnie—our piebald cob—foaled this year, but I just can't see it happening, unless Pacey can make it work, plus it's cash we don't really have spare. I know you have to put in to get back but the pot is running on empty and we can just about keep our heads above water with the ranch.

Business has dropped and I have no idea where the hell we are going to go from here.

We used to be a cotton mill ranch, but my pops pulled away from that once my grandma died and went to the cattle auction. Came home with eight... that eight is now thirty.

But it's continuous.

Buying, breeding, selling.

The want for meat is dwindling in these parts of towns and we haven't made it out of Montana yet, it doesn't help that wehave the Riveras in the next town along, they always have first refusal of any sales, if they don't want it, they pass it along to us.

This is why my pops has paired me and Pacey together. Not only for the ranch, but for the connections that Pacey has.

Livestock Agent turned Sheriff; he also holds a well-known name. Everyone knows the Riveras.

The good, the bad, the ugly.

It didn't matter.

They were still who you wanted on your side.

If we were going to war like my pops thinks, then he has chose a good army to take us into the depths of it.

Slipping open the lock on the pen, I lift it up and see my hens sitting all cozy.

“Hey girls.”

Roost, the rooster shakes his feathered wings before stretching his neck and strutting himself out of the coop and I know he is about to do his morning call.

He shouldn't even be in here. He is normally in the little coop with the hens that I want to have chicks, but the little shit does what he wants.

He rules all.

Slipping my hand beneath them, I check for eggs and then peep the box that hasn't been collected in a couple of days and fill my wicker basket up before slipping out the coop and closing the small gate.

I wish I could have them more free roaming, but what with the foxes and wolves, I can't deal with the heartbreak of waking up and seeing them mauled.

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