Page 136 of All We Carry Home

Phantom was doing well at Mountain View Stables in Virginia, and their head trainer wrote to me often about his progress. That was the only involvement I could allow.

Anything else was too painful.

I missed Warren. I still loved him. I wondered what life would have been like if circumstances were different. What if I hadn’t said goodbye to the other man who had saved me?

I shook the what-ifs away.

The past month had been rough enough with Keith’s trial. I hadn’t attended except the time I was required to testify. Warren had been a witness too, but our paths never crossed.

The little boy from next door, the teen I’d once envisioned as my future, would be in prison for at least twenty years with the possibility of parole. The jury took into consideration the threat against my life and Keith’s actions to protect me from his father, but the dozens of witnesses and reports of his behavior in Pomona had worked against him.

Keith’s family property had gone to auction, and the horses had scattered to Arabian breeding facilities across the country. I didn’t know anything about the new property owners. No one knew, not even Betty with all her town connections.

The neighborly feud was over. Ater all, there wasn’t a true Birkstrom or Merrick left on these lands.

The end of a bloody and terrible story.

Branches snapped under my boots as I walked the worn path. The smell of pine floated around me and soothed my soul.

A little under an hour later, I reached the platform and scaled the ladder as the hints of black sky turned to dark blue. I set the Bible and dog tags on the platform and flung the bullet casing into the distance. It would no longer haunt me.

It was October. In early November, Warren would win the election for his Senate seat. A new era would begin.

The sunrise passed before my face, but I only thought of him.

God, I give you my pain and regret and my yearning for Warren.

I crossed my legs and pressed my face into my knees. I would never be free of loving him, but I couldn’t fight it. Like Gramps had said, I needed to release it, give it to God. Each day, anew.

Until maybe one day, it wouldn’t hurt so much.

Warren

The air was brisk, not like the summer months in the high desert.

I carried wire cutters, a hammer, a fence post, and my thick leather gloves to the edge of my property to repair a gap in the barbed wire I’d noticed a few days ago. It happened to be along the part of the fence line that I shared with my new neighbor, and I didn’t want to add to her plate.

The sun had just risen, but Beacon’s Bluff blocked the full impact from my side of the fence.

I set about the task, pounding in the metal post to reinforce the section of barbed wire some deer or elk had twisted. The noise echoed through the hills, but I focused on not smashing my thumb with the sledgehammer. I wasn’t as skilled as Eddie when it came to this stuff.

I had finished the last of the wire when soft footsteps drew near.

“Warren?”

I looked up at Eva’s voice. My heart tripped all over itself, like I was some teenage boy staring at his longtime crush. If she was out here this early, that meant she was catching the sunrise. That was a good sign.

“Where’s your horse?” I asked, looking for Acorn. “Did you fall off?”

Her hair was unbrushed, wild and windswept, her face clear of makeup and her eyes wide. She was even more beautiful than I remembered. I wanted to jump the fence and sweep her into my arms.

“I didn’t ride out here,” she breathed. “I walked. What are you doing here?”

“Fixing my fence.” I motioned to the wire.

“Y-your fence?”

“The property went up for auction.” I wiggled my eyebrows. “I got it for a steal.”