10
Shane
“Juniper!” I shout across the large field, my voice growing hoarse with effort. It’s barely sunrise, and Stanton and I have been out looking for our lost ward for hours already. My heart pounds in my chest and my lungs burn, but I don’t care.
She’s more than our ward, I admit miserably. She’s the woman we’ve come to cherish.
Nearby, my brother is scouring a line of trees, looking to see if Juniper sought refuge there last night.
I grimace as I imagine what state we might find her in. Will she be an icicle? Will she be blue with frost, her fingertips a deep purple or even black? I clench my fists, anger beginning to resurface. I’m going to kill whoever did this.
But just as quickly, I take a few deep breaths, knowing that it’s more important to focus on finding Juniper than it is to think about all the ways her tormentors will pay.
“Anything?” Stanton’s deep voice calls out from the trees.
I scan the horizon once more, and then shake my head dejectedly. “No,” I growl.
My brother’s big form comes into view, his expression harsh with agony.
“Let’s head east a bit, off-road. Something tells me they didn’t leave her close to any known path.”
I nod at Stanton’s logic and try to embrace his easy calmness. But inside, I’m enraged.
We climb into the truck and roll the windows all the way down, not caring about the bitter cold. We need to listen for sound of Juniper, and to be able to scan the fields clearly. But all I can think about are these desperate circumstances, and a tightness lodges itself in my throat. Is she still alive?
As we drive along in the dim morning light, Stanton grows even more quiet than usual.
“What is it, brother?” I ask, sensing that this silence is different from his usual taciturn ways.
Stanton looks out the window as he speaks, his eyes roaming over every of clomp of dirt and every half-hidden shadow.
“If something happened to Juniper,” he says quietly, “I don’t know what I would do.”
I glance sideways at my usually reserved twin, noting the intense emotion in his voice and his tightly wound body.
The truth is, I’m in exactly the same state. Juniper is more than just a woman we like. She’s the woman we love.
Love, I turn the word over in my mind, marveling at its essence. While we’re both in our mid-thirties, neither Stanton nor I have ever been in love. We’ve dated and we’ve had partners, sure, but never experienced the passion and deep attachments that come with the real thing.
I pull off the gas and roll to an easy stop. Stanton looks at me suddenly, his normally bright eyes hard and glassy with tears.
“We love her,” I rasp dejectedly. “It’s clear as day.”
Stanton nods, his face a reflection of mine. “We do,” he growls, his expression tortured. “And now, what if we’ve lost her?”
Fuck, even the thought is unbearable. Pain lances through my heart, and jaw tight, I start driving again, speeding up ever so slightly but still slow enough that we can skim the fields around us for the woman we love.
“Sarah said they left her near the eastern tree line. But that line is fucking massive,” Stanton’s growls, his eyes sharp like a hawk as he looks for signs of tire treads or Juniper.
“I’m going to throttle her when I get back,” I rasp.
“Juniper or Sarah?” my twin asks.
“Both!” I almost scream. “I’m going to take whoever did this and…!”
My brother stares daggers at me.
“Keep it together,” he rasps. “This isn’t the time. We’ll figure out what happened later, and dole out whatever punishment is needed. But right now, we need to find our girl.”
I jerk my chin angrily, emotions boiling up in my chest as I replay last evening’s conversation over again in my mind. Stanton and I were reviewing paperwork, when there was a tentative knock on our door near midnight. What the hell? Was it Juniper, asking for a few hours of unbridled passion? But instead, there was a mousey girl at our door. Crying, Sarah relayed what had happened. I couldn’t make sense of most of it because her words were so broken, but the essence was clear: our girl had been dumped somewhere yesterday, and was likely freezing to death at this very moment.
Stanton and I set out immediately, bundled up against the freezing temperatures but to no avail. Now it’s morning, and there’s still been no sign of our curvy girl. In the back of my mind, I knew that in all likelihood, she’s already dead. Too long in these harsh conditions is a certain death sentence.
“Let’s head elsewhere,” Stanton says roughly. “She’s clearly not here.”
I turn the truck and begin picking my way around large, ready to be baled haystacks. There’s nothing abnormal about them. The huge, golden pyramids gleam gently in the morning light, fifteen foot tall sentinels watching the ranch silently. But then Stanton lets out a yell. I slam the brakes and glance at my brother.