Lexie sent the single word before the news sank in, doubling her over like a body blow. Callie dead? How could that be? She wasn’t sick. She wasn’t old. It couldn’t be true.
Lexie barely remembered her own mother. From her early childhood, it had been Callie who’d tucked her in at night, Callie who’d brushed her hair, read her stories, driven her to the bus stop, and helped her with her homework. Callie who’d done everything a mother would do except give birth to her.
“No!” She wanted to scream the word at the top of her lungs. First Jack, then her father, then Shane’s terrible injury, and now this.
Fighting tears, she carried the bag of Shane’s things up to his hospital room. She didn’t want to burden him by falling apart, but he’d always been able to read her.
“Tell me,” he said.
Sinking onto the chair when her legs failed to hold her, she told him what little she knew. Toward the end she broke down. Leaning over the edge of the bed, she pressed her face against his shoulder. Her body quivered with sobs.
“God, I’m sorry, Lexie.” He stroked her hair. “You already had too much to deal with. Now this. I wish I had some way to help.”
“It’s not just me . . .” Lexie spoke between sobs. “Tess didn’t say how Callie died. I have the feeling it was something awful.”
“You need to go home,” he said. “You need to go now.”
“What about you?” She raised her head. “What about the transfer to Tucson?”
“I’ll be fine. Brock’s arranged for helicopter transport. I didn’t ask for his help, but this will save me a long day of lying in the ambulance on bumpy roads. I couldn’t say no.”
“That’s great.” Lexie forced the words. Brock again—and she could only imagine what helicopter transport from Pueblo to Tucson would cost. The man was fighting her for control of Shane’s future, with a whole arsenal of weapons she would never possess. All she could offer Shane was her love and a lifetime of challenges.
But she had to let him be the one to choose.
She pulled away from him, stood, and placed the things she’d brought for him on the chair. “These are to go with you,” she said. “Make sure—”
“I’ll be fine, Lexie. Your sister needs you. Just stop mothering me and go.”
“All right, I’m going.” Stung, she gathered up her purse and forced herself to say what needed to be said. “One last thing. You’re right about my mothering you. And I’m not going to do it anymore. You need some space while you get strong and figure out your life. While you’re in rehab, I’m going to give you that space. If you don’t see me or hear from me, you’ll know why.”
“Lexie—”
“No more. We’ve both said enough.” She leaned over the bed and gave him a quick kiss, then turned and walked out of the room.
Struggling against waves of emotion, Lexie took the elevator to the hospital lobby and strode outside to the truck. For now, Shane would have to fight his own battles. It was time for her to go home and face whatever awaited her there.
* * *
The Jensens, father and son, showed up with their bull that afternoon. Named Gadianton after a Book of Mormon villain, he was old and surly with a bad hip. But Alma Jensen claimed he’d been a great bucker in his time and could still satisfy the ladies.
“We’ll see. I’m holding back my end of the bargain until I know for sure.” Tess had taken the grief and shock of Callie’s death and locked it into a black box while she dealt with other things, like this bull. It was a skill she’d mastered with far too much experience.
“Go ahead,” she said. “Back up to the pasture gate and turn him loose. Let’s see how he does.”
Jensen’s son backed the trailer up to the open gate. When the big, black bull stumbled on the way down the ramp, Tess’s heart sank. But once he caught the scent of the cows, who’d been herded away from the gate by the two boys on horseback, he came to full attention. His head went down and forward. His upper lip curled. Lowing his intent, he trotted toward the cows. Soon enough, it became clear that, although the old boy had a hitch in his gait, he knew how to make babies.
So far so good. Tess could only hope she’d made the right choice. Spring calving would tell the tale. “All right,” she said, dreading the next step. “Let’s go look at the yearlings.”
The yearling bulls and heifers had been herded into the paddock. Alma Jensen sat on the fence, looking them over for a good twenty minutes. The more time he spent, the more Tess’s spirits drooped. The man was a good judge of animals. He wouldn’t just pick the biggest or the flashiest and call it good. He would choose the best one—the brother of Whirlwind and Whiplash.
And that was exactly what Jensen did.
Tess cursed her own sense of honor as the young bull was loaded into the trailer. To hell with doing the right thing. She should have hidden him in the stable or with the beef cattle. Lexie had predicted what would happen—and she’d been right.
The only good thing that could come of this would be the hope of getting some quality calves out of old Gadianton.
As the trailer disappeared over the pass, Tess reopened the black box that held the awful circumstances of Callie’s death. She’d been able to get word to Lexie, telling her as little as possible. But there was no answer on Val’s phone. She hated delivering tragic news by text, but that might be her only chance to reach her unpredictable sister—unless Val had lost her phone again or change