“I haven’t. Never opened a single message since I left Minot,” I promise, right before my gut goes into a falling spiral.
Guilt, shame, and remorse twist in my belly like something clawing its way out.
With Faulk busy in the kitchen, that’s one more innocent person I’ve dragged into this crap.
My steps feel like lead as we walk to the house.
Faulk is still there studying his computer screen when we enter the kitchen.
“Update: we’ve got ourselves a location we need to check out,” he says, looking up. “Everything’s encrypted, but there’re a few coordinates and time stamps coming up pretty often from what I’m seeing in the history. I was able to pull a few pics and examine the details. It ain’t too far from here, right near the Montana border. From Google Maps, it’s in the middle of state land, with nothing around for miles. Trouble is, I can’t zoom in too well. This place is out in the sticks and the public satellites only make a pass of those places every few years. I’ll have to drive out there to get a good look on the ground.”
“No,” Grady snaps. “You’re doing enough with this computer shit. I’ll drive out there, Faulk.”
“No, you won’t,” I cut in. “I’ll go myself.”
“In what?” he asks.
Dammit, he’s right. My face falls.
I hate this. Hate how helpless I feel.
Maybe it’s time I should give up and call Dad for advice. He’s somewhere in Africa and not always easy to reach, but I know I could get in touch with him if I need to.
He’s the only person I can totally trust besides these men to call in help. I don’t want to, though, because I know how disappointed he’ll be by what I’ve gotten into.
There’s a part of me that believes my father will understand.
Another part of me fears he’ll be furious.
I just want to make him proud of me.
That’s all I’ve ever hoped for, and this fiasco isn’t helping me accomplish that.
I’m half zoned out, too in my head, listening to Grady and Faulk tossing details back and forth like two generals strategizing a war plan.
I catch snatches of conversation about the town, the shit that keeps happening here. That’s what they call it, even if they don’t elaborate.
“I’m telling you, man, I’m not gonna be the guy to bring another flaming bag of crap to our doorstep,” Grady growls. “I’m not getting any of my friends hurt, especially you. I think having a whole tribe of goats to bail our asses out was a one-time deal.”
Goats? Huh?
Faulk bursts out laughing before his tone turns serious. “Yeah, well, whoever’s doing the driving out to that place...they’d better be mighty careful. There’s no telling what’s hanging out there, or who. Anybody playing scout needs to look like they belong in those parts, not snooping around, you feel me?”
“I know. I’ll take precautions. Maybe break out my gear and the big gun, if I need to,” Grady continues, leaning toward his friend, speaking in this low whisper I think is meant not to worry me.
It does.
All in all, their somewhat heated exchange makes me feel like crap on a cracker.
“Guys? Surely there’s a vehicle I can rent,” I pipe up when I can’t take it anymore. “What if I get one that makes me look like a vacationer? A clueless hiker checking out the area, or something...”
“Hm. I like the subterfuge idea. We’ll bring my four-wheeler along for the ride and make it look like we’re just out exploring,” Grady says before he turns to Faulk again.
I walk to the door while the two big men talk and slip outside.
Bruce should be waking up any time now. While walking to the barn, I scan the pasture, looking for plumes of dust. When I see the girls are still far enough away, I quickly run across the property and enter the barn.
Just like I thought.
Bruce is coming around, but he’s groggy and lethargic, this sleeping orange giant with lidded eyes and yawns like a backfiring exhaust. My heart goes out to him.
He’s so beautiful, and even though he could swallow a moose, he’s helpless.
He’s counting on me, and I’m counting on Grady McKnight.
Honestly, I don’t know who to feel worse for, Bruce or Grady.
Definitely not me.
I’m saving my pity party for a time when I know my favorite tiger won’t be killed.
Grady enters a short time later, and I know another spontaneous apology right now will probably be hollow. Talk is cheap with the expensive trouble I’m causing.
“The beef’s here,” he tells me, entering the storage room with a large crate. “Come on in, Tobin.”
My eyes go up at an unexpected sight.
A well-dressed man wearing a full suit follows him, a determined look behind his spectacles, carrying another large box. Either this weird little town has some really fancy butcher shops, or else the guy dropping it off is somebody’s butler.
Regardless, I leave the pen to go help them.
Grady stops me near the edge. “You keep an eye on Bruce. Tobin and I will bring in the meat, special delivery from my buddy, Ridge. His guy was good enough to bring it out here. Faulk said he’d make sure the girls keep away if they come back to the house early.”
My first instinct is to argue, but if I can smell raw meat, then so can Bruce.
He stands up with another yawn like a small hurricane, stretching as he flicks his tail and licks his chops.
I have to give these guys credit, they’re not used to this like I am.
Very few people would be comfortable carrying boxes full of dinner with a hungry tiger in sniffing range. It doesn’t take long to have all the meat stuffed in the freezer, and several fresh bales of hay carried into the barn for good measure.
Once again, I’m slayed by how much trouble Grady goes through for me, which only deepens my guilt.
The stranger, Tobin, leaves with a dramatic bow, just as mysteriously as he arrived.
A short time later, Faulk’s truck drives off, after he tells Grady he’ll be in touch soon.
Our timing couldn’t be closer.
Seconds later, the girls come racing into the yard, jabbering back and forth like little birds and laughing.
“Hey, Dad. Why did Ridge’s truck have hay in the back of it?” Sawyer asks, pulling her helmet off as her eyes go wide. “Did he drop if off here? Are we finally gonna get a horse?!”
Oh, boy.
The shimmering hope in her eyes has me looking nervously at Grady.
“No, baby,” Grady says. “I’m just busy with some renovations on the barn. You know how old it is.”
“With hay?” she asks with a snort. “Daaaad. If you’re trying to surprise us, it won’t work!”
She’s a sharp one and doesn’t miss much.
That worries me.
“Sorry to disappoint,” I say, chiming in. “But hay actually helps make deep cleaning old floors so much easier. It’ll absorb any moisture in the floor so everything can be swept up easier.”
Sawyer nods with a sigh, disappointment in her eyes.
That was close.
And it still is when Avery speaks up again.
“But, Dad, why are you renovating the barn if it’s not for animals?” she asks, her brows knit together in adorable confusion.