Table of Contents
As Jeremy stared at the mess of tangled, broken wires that was supposed to be a fence, he wondered how the hell his life had come to this. None of his multiple five-year or ten-year plans included working on his cousin’s cattle ranch in southern Oregon, but here he was. He tugged at the sleeves of his white and blue flannel shirt until they covered the scars on his wrists. He didn’t need the reminder, and Derek, his mentor and friend, sure as hell didn’t need to know about that part of his past.
Those scars forced him to face his cowardice. Every time he asked himself what he was doing here, all he had to do was look down and then think—that’s why. The weight of the hammer in his hand made him feel lost, reminded him just how out of his depth he was. He’d been an artist once, a painter with a bright future. Now, his fine-boned artist’s hands sported calluses instead of charcoal or paint splatters.
But never mind that. He had a job to do, which for now at least, included mending fences. Jamie, his cousin, had let him slack off for three months—now he had to earn his keep. So much to learn, though, he sometimes felt like a child. Splice the wire, indeed. How the hell was he supposed to do that? Well, I’m not a quitter, he thought, then fingered his scars again. Damn it—he’d have to move past that someday.