Fox’s calculating eyes were on him, and Bull felt as if he was being skinned and filleted, so he gave Fox the condensed version. “Four months before the wedding, the flood came. The town had been evacuated, but I was trying to save every damn horse, sheep, cow, dog… every-fucking-thing I could. Anytime an animal drifted away, crying and whining, was like a punch to my stomach. The national guard came to save the ranchers that had refused to leave and stick it out… like me. But there was no beating that damn storm.
“When they came to rescue me, Os, and Pop, I was trying to get to Mercy. He’d gotten stranded on the roof of the toolshed and was too afraid to come back to me.” Bull chuckled gravely. “Fuck. I never remembered crying that damn hard in my life. Not even at my mother’s funeral.”
“Jesus. How’d you get him?”
“I don’t know what stupid thought went through my head—that’s how my father tells it anyway—but Mercy had helped me rescue so many animals that whole time, I couldn’t just desert him.” Bull shuddered, remembering that horrible day. “So, I dove out of that rescue boat and made it over to the shed. It was a nightmare getting Mercy through the water, and I thought we’d be all right, until he fainted.”
“Holy shit.” Fox winced. “Horses can do that?”
“Yeah. I held his muzzle up and treaded water the best I could, but I was beyond exhausted, and even in the water it felt like he weighed two thousand pounds. I’d already been battling the flood for forty-seven hours, and I didn’t think I could make it back.” Bull turned and met Fox’s intense gaze. “Os was safe on the boat with Pop, and I could hear my father hollering at him to help me… but he never did. The current started to take me, but I refused to let go of Mercy. I got my head above water a few times, and I screamed for my fiancé… but… he looked away.”
“He what?” Fox narrowed his eyes to slits.
“I guess he couldn’t watch me die. But my problem was… he wouldn’t help me survive either.” Bull took Fox’s hand and threaded their fingers together. “You don’t give up on the person you love, Fox. Never. You fight together, no matter how bad the storm.”
“Where are we going?” Fox asked with his hand still in Bull’s as he led him through the quiet backyard to a large shed that had a sign posted on the doors that read Authorized Personnel Only.
“In here.”
Fox dug in his heels at the entrance. “I’m sorry, but you’re not fucking me in a barn. I do have a bit of a cowboy fetish thing going on, but this is taking it too far.”
Bull laughed, and Fox knew he’d never get tired of that gritty chuckle. “This is where I keep the heavy farm equipment, power tools—.”
“I’m really not into the hard stuff, babe.”
Bull snorted, his eyes shimmering with amusement. “It’s where I keep all the expensive stuff, I can’t risk getting stolen.”
“You seem to have good employees. Have you had theft problems?”
“No. But some hands I hire are travelers breezing through needing to earn a few dollars for their next bus ticket.”
“Mmhmm,” Fox hummed, still not knowing where Bull was going with this. After the true confessions in the car, he thought they’d be going straight to the bedroom. But instead he was in a forty-by-sixty, drafty barn that smelled of diesel gas and freshly sawed wood. There were multiple tractors lined up along one wall, woodworking tools, and lots of agricultural machinery for plowing and tilling littering the concrete floor.
“I refinished the loft up here for when I needed to get out of the house and have some time to myself.” Bull walked up a tall flight of stairs and flipped on a dual set of switches that illuminated the vast space with soft light. Fox was amazed at the layout and the warmth seeping into his chilled body. “The upstairs is heated.”
“Damn.” Fox whistled, turning around in the large space, his gaze stopping on the large, unmade, fluffy-looking bed in the corner. “Seriously?”
Bull took his hat off and set it down on a high wing-backed chair positioned near the loft doors. He ran his hand through his thick hair, then followed as Fox walked through his personal space where he kept things that must’ve been important to him. Whenever he’d stare at something too long, Bull would clarify what it was.
“That’s my mother’s saddle.” Bull touched it gently where it hung on one of the heavy beams in the center of the room.
“How’d she die?” Fox asked quietly, hoping it wasn’t too sensitive a topic. But hell, they were already past sharing.
“Breast cancer. It was quick,” Bull muttered. “She didn’t want any extraordinary measures and wanted to die at home on her land. She was tough like that.”