Chapter 5

The injured cow was cooperating better than Nathan had expected. Just a torn muscle in her front leg from getting tangled in some wire fencing, painful but not serious. He worked methodically, cleaning the wound while Lloyd held the animal steady with the practiced ease of someone who'd been doing this for decades.

"Nate," Lloyd said suddenly, his voice carrying a weight that made Nathan pause mid-stitch. "I'm gonna ask you a question, and I need you to answer it."

Nathan looked up from his work, meeting Lloyd's steady gaze. Something in the older man's tone told him this wasn't going to be about veterinary technique. "...Okay?"

"Why are you here?" Lloyd's question was direct, no dancing around it. "I got pretty good ideas about Trevor, seen his type before. War does things to a man, leaves him looking for somewhere to disappear. But you?" He shook his head. "I can't quite figure you out. I know you're running away from something, but what? You owe bad people money? Get mixed up in something illegal?"

Nathan's hands stilled on the suture, his eyes dropping back to the cow's leg. The animal shifted restlessly, sensing the sudden tension in the air. "I-I don't know if I want to answer–"

"Help me sleep better knowing why we're working together here at the ranch." Lloyd said, his voice more assertive now. Not threatening, but firm. The voice of someone who'd earned the right to ask hard questions.

Nathan felt the weight of Lloyd's authority in the bunkhouse, the unspoken hierarchy that made Lloyd the closest thing they had to a leader. He thought about the past three weeks, how Lloyd had taken him under his wing, taught him things that weren't in any veterinary textbook. The man deserved honesty.

Nathan sighed deeply, the sound seeming to come from somewhere deep in his chest. "Abusive spouse."

Lloyd's frown deepened, pieces clicking together in his mind. "Your wife beat you?"

Nathan finished the stitch he was working on, then finally looked back up at Lloyd. The moment stretched between them, heavy with the weight of truth that couldn't be taken back.

"...Husband."

The single word hung in the air like a confession. Lloyd's expression shifted as understanding dawned. Of course it was another man. That made sense of the bruises, the way Nathan had been overpowered, the careful way he moved through the world like he was always expecting the next blow.

Nathan kept his eyes locked on Lloyd's face, searching for any sign of judgment or rejection. His jaw was tense, ready for whatever reaction might come. He'd learned to read the signs of when acceptance turned to hostility.

Lloyd nodded slowly, processing the information with the same methodical care he applied to everything else. "Alright then. Well." He adjusted his grip on the cow, settling back into the familiar rhythm of their work. "Keep working, doctor."

The casual return to business was almost anticlimactic. Nathan felt something loosen in his chest that he hadn't realized was wound tight.

"Can you not tell anyone about it?" Nathan asked, resuming his stitching with hands that were steadier than he'd expected.

"Secrets are hard to keep around here," Lloyd said honestly, "but I'll try."

Nathan met his eyes again, gratitude clear in his expression. "I appreciate it."

They worked in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, the only sounds the cow's occasional shuffling and the whisper of surgical thread through skin. Finally, Lloyd spoke again, his voice quiet but carrying the warmth of someone who'd made his peace with the information.

"For what it's worth, kid. I'm glad you got out."

—

The fence line stretched ahead of them like a scar across the pasture, posts leaning at dangerous angles and wire sagging in places where cattle had pushed through. Trevor worked methodically, resetting posts while Jimmy gathered supplies from their ATV parked twenty yards away.

"Hey, can you grab me that post-hole digger?" Trevor called out, not looking up from where he was examining a particularly damaged section.

"Sho' thing, massah," Jimmy drawled back in an exaggerated Southern accent. "Anythin' else ya need from dis here veee-hicle?"

Trevor paused in his work, his hands still gripping the fence post. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?" Jimmy asked, genuinely confused as he hefted the heavy tool.

"Trying to size me up." Trevor turned to face him properly, his expression serious. "You never do that to Nathan."

"What? I'm not trying to size you up." Jimmy set the digger down with more force than necessary. "And also, Nathan's the vet, so he's different."

Trevor straightened to his full height, and for a moment Jimmy was reminded exactly why he'd been nervous around the man in the first place. "Look, I get it. I'm new, but I can keep up with y'all, and because of that, you feel threatened. You're worried that I'm gonna steal your position in the hypothetical bunkhouse hierarchy."

Jimmy paused, the tool forgotten in his hands. Something in Trevor's tone made him actually consider the words instead of deflecting with another joke. "...You're not wrong." He looked genuinely surprised by his own admission. "Also, how'd you know what 'hypothetical' means?"

"Do you?" Trevor shot back.

They both chuckled, the tension breaking like a snapped wire. Jimmy shook his head, grinning despite himself.

"You're fucking ridiculous, man." Trevor said, but there was warmth in his voice now.

"I know." Jimmy picked up the post-hole digger again, this time carrying it over without the theatrical accent. "Well, I guess you're pretty reasonable. I thought you were gonna come at me when you first got here."

Trevor accepted the tool and started working on the hole, his movements efficient and practiced. "I still can."

"Okay now, don't do that," Jimmy said quickly, but he was still smiling. "People take one look at you and they can tell you can start a problem and finish it."

Trevor paused in his digging, something darker crossing his expression. "Don't I know it."

There was a weight in those words that made Jimmy study Trevor's profile more carefully. For all his joking around, Jimmy had good instincts about people, and he was starting to understand that Trevor's intimidating presence wasn't something he'd cultivated on purpose. It was just what happened when life taught you to be ready for violence at any moment.

"Good thing we're on the same side then." Jimmy said after a moment.

Trevor looked up at him, and for the first time since they'd met, his smile reached his eyes. "Yeah. Good thing."

—

The bunkhouse was filled with the comfortable sounds of men taking a well-earned break. Ryan was sprawled across his bunk tossing peanuts in the air and trying to catch them in his mouth, while Colby and Jimmy argued about whose turn it was to restock the coffee supplies. Nathan sat at the small table, drinking water and half-listening to Teeter tell an increasingly elaborate story about a bull that had apparently learned to open gates.

The relaxed atmosphere evaporated the moment Beth Dutton walked through the door.

Every spine straightened, every conversation stopped mid-sentence. The ranch hands had learned to read Beth's moods like weather patterns, and today she carried herself with the focused energy of someone who had work to do.

Her eyes swept the room before landing on Nathan. "Come with me, pretty boy."

The command was delivered with Beth's usual authority. Not a request, not a suggestion, but a statement of fact about what was going to happen next.

All heads turned toward Nathan like he was a student who'd just been called to the principal's office. Ryan made an exaggerated "oooooh" sound under his breath, and Jimmy grinned like Christmas had come early.

Nathan rolled his eyes at their theatrical concern, but he could feel heat creeping up his neck as he stood. "Am I in trouble?" he asked, following Beth toward the door.

"You will be if you ask another question." Beth replied without breaking stride.

Nathan had never been inside the main house before, and despite his nervousness, he couldn't help but be impressed. The log mansion was everything the bunkhouse wasn't: spacious, elegant, filled with the kind of furniture that suggested generations of wealth and power. Rich leather, polished wood, and windows that offered sweeping views of the ranch grounds.

Beth led him down a hallway lined with family photographs and into what was clearly her office. The space was immaculately organized, with a large desk, built-in bookshelves, and technology that looked decidedly more modern than anything in the bunkhouse.

"I'm having a Zoom meeting with a client in five minutes," Beth explained, settling behind her desk and opening her laptop. "They've got questions about livestock operations and ranching practices. Since you actually work with the animals and have the best level of professionalism compared to the others, you're going to handle their questions."

Nathan felt a flutter of relief mixed with anxiety. Not in trouble, then, but definitely being thrown into the deep end. "I can do that."

"Good." Beth's eyes flicked to his appearance. The light brown trucker cap that had faded and changed color from weeks of sun and work, the denim jacket that showed similar wear patterns. Both pieces had become as much a part of Nathan's daily uniform as his boots. His five o'clock shadow had become a permanent fixture too, a departure from the clean-shaven look he'd arrived with. He was blending in with the other ranch hands now, though he still stood out, probably because he took better care of himself than the rest of them. "Take the hat off. You look like a ranch hand."

"I am a ranch hand." Nathan pointed out, but he removed the cap anyway, running his hand through his hair to flatten it down.

"Today you're my consultant," Beth corrected. "Act like it."

The meeting began, and Nathan found himself facing a screen full of businesspeople in expensive suits who clearly knew nothing about the practical realities of raising cattle. Their questions ranged from basic to absurd, but Nathan answered each one with the same calm professionalism he used when explaining treatment options to worried pet owners back in Los Angeles.

"What's the typical timeline for bringing a herd to market weight?" one client asked.

"That depends on several factors," Nathan replied smoothly. "Breed, feed quality, management practices. For most commercial operations, you're looking at eighteen to twenty-four months for beef cattle, but with proper nutrition and genetics, some operations can achieve market weight in sixteen months."

Beth watched from beside the camera, noting how the clients leaned forward when Nathan spoke, how they scribbled notes and nodded along with his explanations. She could practically see dollar signs forming in their eyes.

When the meeting ended forty-five minutes later, the clients were effusive in their praise and clearly ready to move forward with whatever deal Beth had been negotiating.

"I'll make you do that more often," Beth said once the laptop was closed.

"You know where to find me." Nathan stood to leave, then paused. "And Beth, I never got the chance to th–"

"Stop it right there, pretty boy." Beth held up a hand, but there was something almost fond in her expression. "Don't get sentimental with me. I got you a place here, and you keep those animals from dying too soon. This relationship is purely transactional."

She smiled as she said it, the kind of smile that suggested the exact opposite of her words. Nathan smiled back, understanding the game they were playing. Beth's need to maintain her armor, even when doing something kind.

"Understood." Nathan said with a nod, then headed for the door.

As he walked back toward the bunkhouse, Nathan reflected on how strange his life had become. Almost a month ago, he'd been hiding bruises and planning escape routes. Now he was sitting in business meetings and being called Beth Dutton's consultant.

—

Inside the stable, Nathan worked with quiet concentration as the mare labored through a difficult birth. Lloyd held the animal steady while Teeter kept a running commentary of encouragement that seemed directed equally at the horse. The birth was progressing normally, but it required patience and careful hands.

Outside, close enough to watch the proceedings but far enough away not to interfere, Ryan, Colby, Jimmy, and Trevor were supposedly working on repairing some bridles. In reality, they were more interested in observing Nathan handle the veterinary emergency with the kind of calm competence that still surprised them.

"Can't believe a guy from LA can do that." Jimmy said, watching Nathan guide the foal's emergence with practiced ease.

"Yeah, I gotta admit he's great at what he does," Colby agreed, his voice carrying a respect that would have been unthinkable during Nathan's first week.

Ryan, who was always looking for an angle, squinted thoughtfully at the scene. "You ever notice that he never showers with us? Think he's gay or something?"

"He's from LA," Colby replied with a shrug. "I wouldn't be surprised if he is."

Ryan gestured dramatically at himself. "I bet he can't risk being tempted by this prize."

"Barely garbage." Trevor commented dryly, not looking up from the bridle he was mending.

Ryan's face lit up with delight. "You guys heard that? He's joking more now." He pointed at Trevor with mock indignation. "Watch your tone, new guy. Just because you could take me down doesn't mean I won't put up a fight."

The group shared genuine laughter, the kind that spoke of growing camaraderie and acceptance.

Jimmy, who'd been thinking while they talked, suddenly straightened up like he'd solved a complex equation. "But his shower routine works well for us, though. There's five shower stalls in the bathroom: one for each of us and Lloyd. Well, only because Colby and Teeter are always saving water by showering together." He grinned at Colby, who flipped him off good-naturedly. "If Nathan showered at the same time as us, one of us would always have to wait for an empty stall."

Trevor looked at him with raised eyebrows. "You're a mathematician now?"

"Man, shut up." Jimmy shot back, but he was still smiling.

Trevor turned his attention back to the stable, watching Nathan work. There was something almost meditative about the way the vet moved. Confident but gentle, completely focused on the task at hand. When Nathan glanced up and caught Trevor watching, their eyes met across the distance.

They exchanged a smile, brief but genuine, the kind of acknowledgment that had become comfortable between them over the past few weeks. Nothing more than recognition, but somehow it felt significant in the afternoon light.

—

After dinner, the bunkhouse settled into its familiar evening rhythm. Ryan and Jimmy were sprawled on their bunks arguing about something on the television, while Colby had claimed the couch with a beer balanced on his chest. Teeter sat cross-legged on her bed, braiding her pink hair and occasionally shouting commentary at whatever was happening on screen.

In the kitchen area, Nathan stood at the sink working through the dinner dishes with methodical precision. The warm water and repetitive motions had become almost meditative for him, a quiet end to days that were often anything but quiet.

Trevor lingered at the dining table, smoking a cigarette and watching the smoke curl toward the ceiling. He'd taken to staying in the common area longer these past few days, less eager to retreat to his bunk and the restless hours that followed.

"You still got some of that tea?" Trevor asked, his voice cutting through the domestic sounds around them.

Nathan glanced over his shoulder, hands still busy with a stubborn pot. "Yeah, I'll grab it once I finish this."

"Need some help?"

Nathan turned his head properly this time, something uncertain flickering across his expression. The offer was unexpected, not unwelcome, exactly, but different from their usual polite distance. "Uh, sure."

Trevor stubbed out his cigarette and moved to the sink, taking up position beside Nathan. They worked in comfortable silence, Nathan washing while Trevor dried, their movements finding an easy rhythm. Nathan felt oddly self-conscious about the arrangement, though he couldn't pinpoint exactly why. Maybe it was just that sharing tasks felt more intimate than their usual brief exchanges. But Trevor's presence was steady and undemanding, and the work went faster with two pairs of hands.

When they finished, Trevor returned to his spot at the table while Nathan walked to his bunk. He rummaged through his duffel bag until he found the small glass jar of herbs, then returned to the kitchen area where Trevor was lighting another cigarette.

"Here," Nathan said, holding out the jar. "You can have it."

Trevor looked up, surprised. "Really? What about you?"

"I don't think I need it anymore." The words came out more confidently than Nathan had expected. It was true, sleep had come easier since arriving at the ranch, his body finally trusting that he was safe enough to rest.

Trevor nodded, accepting the gift with the kind of gravity that suggested he understood its significance. His fingers brushed Nathan's briefly as he took the jar, and he met Nathan's eyes with something that looked like gratitude even if he couldn't quite voice it yet.

"But just one teaspoon per cup," Nathan added with a slight smile. "Don't want to have you oversleep again."

Trevor let out a short chuckle, the sound warm in the evening quiet. "I'll keep that in mind."

From his corner bunk, Lloyd watched the interaction with the careful attention he paid to all the dynamics in his domain. There was something different in the way the two men moved around each other now, less careful, more natural. Like they were finally starting to trust that the other wasn't going anywhere.