Easton’s phone as I placed a hand on the cowboy’s head for support. His hat had fallen beside us with his grief.
“Take him home. We’ve got a whole team here working on a game plan. He needs to rest or he’s going to make himself sick. I’ll keep him posted. I swear it.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
Although I had no idea how I was going to convince Easton to stop searching.
I hung up and gave Easton a minute to pull himself together. On his feet again, I gave him back his phone and hat. He glanced in both directions down the dark road looking lost.
“Let me take you home.”
He shook his head, but when I touched his arm, he focused on my face. “There’s a whole team of professionals on it now. If Percy is okay and he’s out there, he’s going to go to your house, right?”
Pressing fingers into his eyes, he nodded. “Yeah. Probably.”
I held out a hand. “Then let’s go wait for him.”
Easton’s frantic race calmed for the first time in hours, and he searched my face, confusion in his dark eyes. “Why are you still here?”
I didn’t have the words to explain because it wasn’t something I understood. Two days ago we were ready to kill each other, now this?
Shrugging, I searched the dark landscape for answers. “I thought you could use a friend.”
His fingers slipped into mine, drawing my focus back to his face. “Your hands are cold,” he said.
“I know. Not sure if you noticed, but it’s fucking freezing out here at night.”
He chuckled, but it was sad. “I guess you get used to it.”
I gave a tug and encouraged him to follow me back toward the farmhouse. We’d been running on fumes all night. He needed rest. I needed rest. Hopefully news would come in soon.
The sky was growing lighter on the horizon as we approached the house. Dawn was still forty minutes away, but it was possible to make out shapes in the distance where they had been nothing more than murky, impenetrable shadows earlier. The mountains loomed as dark silhouettes in the distance, surrounding us on all sides. There was beauty in the calm darkness of the countryside, something I’d never acknowledged before now. It was so different than living in a city where bright lights and traffic were a twenty-four-hour occurrence. Life didn’t slow down like this. Ever.
At the house, Easton headed for the front door. My intention was to ensure he went inside before returning to the lodge for a couple of hours of sleep. But my feet followed after him, so when he halted dead on the front stoop, I smacked into his broad back, grabbing his waist for balance so I didn’t stumble over.
He darted his gaze around the pasture and stables nearby, squinting and frowning. His eyes were alert.
“What’s wrong?”
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” I turned, scanning as well and straining to listen.
Easton moved me out of his way and crossed to the fence by the yard. I followed, taxing my ears but not hearing anything.
“I swear I heard somethin’.”
“Like what?” I was convinced lack of sleep was catching up with him.
Easton shook his head. “Like a … I don’t know. A whine?”
We both stood quietly and listened. When a full minute passed, I opened my mouth to tell Easton we should go inside when I heard it too.
Far in the distance. Not a whine but more of a howl.
“Is it a coyote?”
“No. They sound different. That’s like…” Easton frowned, then his whole body went rigid. “Fuck. That’s Logan.” He whistled that piercing sound he used when he called his dog. “Logan!”
The howl sounded again.
“Where is it coming from?”
Easton spun and cocked an ear, then he took off like a shot, running toward the trailhead we’d ridden through earlier in the day. I followed and was glad I wasn’t out of shape because Easton was tearing a fast clip into the dark.
“Logan!” He whistled again and called his dog repeatedly, encouraging him to respond so we could follow his cries.
I wasn’t religious, but I said a small prayer there was nothing wrong with his dog because after spending all night trying to find Percy, Easton’s heart couldn’t take another blow.
Following his dog’s wounded cries, Easton veered off the trail, racing through the underbrush and over rocks like a professional, not slowing down in the least. Even in the dusky pre-morning light, the man was solid on his feet. I did my best to keep up, but