“Please do.”
After the call ended, Silas stepped outside. Snow had stopped falling. The sky was dark blue, and Denali’s outline rose pale beyond the ranch.
Nabid turned his head toward him.
For a moment, man and bull looked at each other across the fence.
“You were never the problem, were you?” Silas said quietly.
Nabid blinked once, then turned back toward the mountains.
Part 4
Holden Whitmore arrived in Talkeetna two weeks later without warning.
Silas found him standing beside a rented SUV in the driveway, wearing a coat too clean for Alaska and boots too new for snow. He looked tired, though he carried himself with the rigid control of a man who disliked appearing uncertain.
“I needed to see him myself,” Holden said.
Silas closed the barn door behind him. “Most people call first.”
“I was afraid I’d talk myself out of coming.”
That answer earned more honesty than Silas expected. He studied Holden for a moment, then nodded toward the north pasture. “He’s this way.”
This story touched a part of me that has hurt underneath several careers and 65 years of life. I'm 71 now. My family is a long established name there. My memories of ranching, accidents, rodeo stock, flash floods and family loss are different than the way life is lived today. This story is magnificent, thank you for sharing it. And maybe there's hope for some of us humans that just need space and understanding. It's been 40 years since I became a civilian after 11 years as a
U.S. Marine. This story and that bull have more meaning than some will ever know. Thank you once again. Job well done.