The mountains rose all around him, stretching their jagged white-capped peaks toward an endless blue sky. Nearby, a herd of elk foraged in the snow, a hawk wheeling overhead. Everything was so beautiful, so peaceful, so quiet. He and Nate had spent the day driving hay out to snowbound cattle and seeing to the horses. Despite the near-constant ache in his thigh, it had felt good to get physical. Lifting hay bales and trudging through deep snow had gotten his heart pumping and filled his lungs with fresh mountain air. He’d felt alive again, strong. But the best part about it had been working side by side with Nate. And still something felt . . . wrong. Javier thrust the feeling aside, refused to let himself go there. If it hadn’t been so cold out, he’d have gone back inside to grab his guitar. He’d been playing a lot since getting wounded. Something about it cleared his mind, helped him focus, gave him an outlet for whatever was gnawing at him.
