THE FENCE BETWEEN THEM
The Broken Fence
The first thing Kaia Storm noticed about Garrett Callaway’s ranch was that the fence was perfect.
Almost perfect, anyway.
The posts along the eastern boundary stood straight beneath the pale morning sun. Every wire had been tightened properly. Every corner post had been reinforced. Even the old cedar rails near the creek had been replaced with fresh timber.
It was the kind of fence that told a person something about its owner.
Careful.
Disciplined.
Unwilling to leave a problem unfinished.
Which was precisely why Kaia found the broken section so irritating.
She pulled Rain to a slow walk along the boundary, her dark mare stepping carefully through the tall spring grass.
The damaged fence ran nearly forty yards along the place where the Callaway property met hers. Three posts had fallen, and two strands of wire had sagged almost to the ground.
Her cattle had already discovered the opening.
So had Garrett's bulls.
For nearly three weeks, Kaia had watched the situation become progressively worse.
She had sent two letters.
The first had been polite.
The second had been considerably less polite.
Neither had changed anything.
Kaia stopped Rain and looked across the boundary.
Garrett Callaway's ranch house stood in the distance, surrounded by cottonwoods and low hills. Smoke rose lazily from the chimney.
She narrowed her eyes.
"Of course," she muttered.
She had come expecting him to be out somewhere working.
Instead, he was home.
And somehow that made her irritation worse.
She turned Rain toward the ranch.
She was halfway there when she heard hoofbeats behind her.
Kaia stopped.
Rain's ears flicked backward.
A moment later, Garrett appeared over the rise.
He was riding a dark bay gelding, one hand resting loosely on the reins.
He wore a faded brown hat, a dusty work shirt, worn leather gloves, and the expression of a man who had learned long ago that silence was often safer than conversation.
Garrett heard the hoofbeats before he turned.
And when he did turn, Kaia watched something move across his face.
Surprise.
Recognition.
Then something guarded settled over his features like a door closing.
She brought Rain to a stop ten feet away.
"Miss Storm."
His voice was low and controlled.
The kind of voice that didn't waste itself on unnecessary words.
"Mr. Callaway."
Neither smiled.
"I sent two letters."
"I received them."
"And yet..."
She let the sentence hang.
Garrett's jaw tightened.
"The fence is still broken."
"I know."
"Your bulls have been visiting my herd without an invitation."
"I know that too."
Kaia stared at him.
He stared back.
Spring wind moved between them.
"So you received my letters," she said.
"Both of them."
"And you decided they weren't worth answering."
"I was going to repair the fence."
"When?"
He glanced toward the sky.