Part 4
Owen turned toward the house. “Any sign she went across the road?”
“Not so far.”
“I’ll be there.”
Ranger was at the truck before Owen reached it.
Rain swept through on the short drive to Eldren, then passed, leaving the yard dark and slick. Grant stood beside the holding lot with a tag list. Tess was at the utility vehicle, a cap pulled low and mud across one knee.
She met Owen at the open gate and handed him a nylon halter.
“She’s worn this. Might give him something to start with.”
Owen crouched beside the post. The hook hadn’t snapped. The post had twisted enough that pressure against the gate could lift the chain free. Beyond it, the herd had churned the wet ground into an untidy spread of hoofprints.
He moved beyond the deepest mud. Ranger waited, alert now in a way Owen hadn’t seen often lately.
A strip of bent grass ran away from the main disturbance.
“Looks like one peeled off here,” Owen said. “East.”
“Toward the drainage,” Grant said.
“Or the trees.” Tess looked beyond the field. “She won’t get across the lower ditch. The upper crossing is the way through.”
Owen glanced at her.
“I’ve been getting calves out of that field since I was sixteen,” she said. “There’s a cut above the old pump track.”
“Check it with the utility vehicle.”
She was moving before he finished. Grant stayed with the herd and the faulty gate.
Owen offered Ranger the halter. They’d adapted old search exercises to ranch problems over the years, though it had been a while since the dog had needed to do more than find a person in a pasture.
“Find her.”
Ranger nosed the halter, dropped his head, and went through the opening.
Owen followed without crowding him. The dog worked across the churned ground, lost what he wanted, doubled back, and found it in the grass. For a couple hundred yards, he moved steadily.
Then the trail reached hard ground where summer feed trucks had packed the soil smooth.
Ranger checked left. He came back and tested the other side, lifting his muzzle into the wind.
Owen waited. He could hear water ticking from branches behind him. He kept his hands loose and let the dog work.
At last Ranger moved north, toward a narrow break in the brush.
An engine sounded ahead. Tess came along the pump track and stopped beside them.
“Nothing below,” she said.
“He’s turning north.”
“There’s an old stock trail behind that rise.”
“Where does it lead?”
“Into the grove.”
Owen climbed into the passenger seat. At his signal, Ranger jumped into the back.
Tess turned carefully on the wet track, then drove with enough speed to cover ground without letting the ruts choose their direction. At the fork, she took the left branch.
“I’d have picked the other one,” Owen said.
“You’d be looking at an irrigation trench.”
“When did that go in?”
“Before you bought Veylan.”
He nodded. “Left it is.”
They stopped above the trees and went the rest of the way on foot. Ranger found the line where the grass narrowed, and his pace became more purposeful. Tess stayed back, watching Owen instead of calling to the dog or trying to point out possibilities.
Owen stepped aside when Ranger checked a cluster of willows. Tess stepped aside with him.
The heifer stood in a sheltered pocket of green, chewing. She lifted her head when they appeared, looked at all three of them, and resumed her meal.
Tess planted her hands on her hips.
“Well. She’s clearly suffered.”
“May need counseling,” Owen said.
Ranger fixed the heifer with an intense stare.
“You’ve found her,” Owen told him. “Don’t try to explain yourself.”
Tess laughed, then went ahead to open the upper gate.
Bringing the heifer back required patience. They gave her room, using their positions rather than noise to keep her moving. Ranger stayed where Owen placed him. Tess handled the gate, then brought the vehicle around when the track widened.
Grant met them at the pasture entrance. This time, his count matched the list.
Another shower struck before they could finish. They hurried beneath the barn roof, where rain rattled loudly enough to interrupt conversation. Grant went out again to check the temporary chain while Owen crouched beside Ranger and worked a twig from the fur beneath his collar.
Tess wiped her hands with a shop towel.
“He enjoyed that,” she said.
“He’ll claim a full day’s wages.”
“He knew exactly what you needed.”
Owen rubbed the dog’s neck. “He likes a clear job.”
“So do you.”
Owen looked up. Her expression held no joke.
“Usually,” he said.
A horse shifted in a stall behind them. Wet leather and hay scented the barn, and water poured from the roof edge into an old trough outside.
“I haven’t watched you work together like that before,” Tess said.
“Not much reason to anymore.”
“Worth it, judging by his face.”
Ranger leaned harder into Owen’s hand.
When the shower ended, Owen helped Grant fit a more secure chain. Tess drove toward the house to finish a client’s payroll. Owen heard the vehicle turn the corner while he held the chain steady for Grant.
He hadn’t once asked Grant whether Tess was right about the land.
On the drive home, Ranger sprawled across the rear seat, tired and satisfied. Owen slowed through a shaded curve where rainwater still shone on the road. At the next junction, he followed the route Tess had used without needing to reconsider it.
The days shortened. Before the last week of October was over, Owen was arranging his outdoor jobs around the remaining light.
Behind the barn, he worked through seasoned pine, splitting and stacking until his shoulders warmed beneath his shirt. The work asked a simple question and accepted a simple answer. Set the round. Find the grain. Swing.
Ranger lifted his head before the pickup reached the yard.
Owen recognized the engine, too.
Tess parked beside the barn with a folder and two cups in a cardboard holder. Ranger rose to greet her.
“You’re shameless,” Owen told him.
“He’s polite,” Tess said. “You could study him.”
She handed Owen the folder first. He’d finally admitted that a pair of fuel invoices might be mixed in with veterinary paperwork and a warranty for a saw he no longer owned. Tess had sorted them.
Then she gave him the coffee.
“Delivery service now?” he asked.
“Only for the difficult accounts.”
He took a drink. She surveyed the woodpile, the stack beneath the lean-to, and the rounds still waiting.
“Are you expecting an especially long winter?”
“Always safer to have extra.”
“You could barricade the drive until spring with this much.”
“Hadn’t considered that.”
“I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
They talked about Grant’s improved gate latch and a client who’d found half a year’s receipts in a tackle box. Owen suggested charging him storage fees. Tess said she’d settle for legible dates.
Then she grew quiet.
Owen leaned the maul against the chopping block. Tess looked toward the house, where the kitchen window reflected a thin strip of afternoon sky.
“Do you ever get tired of being the only person here?” she asked.
“I’m not the only person. I have a dog who thinks he owns the place.”
“I meant someone to share it with.”
He looked at Ranger, then down at his coffee.
“Hard to compete with him. He’s a good listener.”
“He’s listening for food.”
“Still counts.”
She gave him a small laugh, but her eyes stayed on his face. Owen felt the conversation approaching a place where humor might no longer get him out safely.
“Any sensible woman would pass on a man like me,” he said.
Tess lowered her cup.
“You didn’t count me…”
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