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Gnats filled my mouth and nose as the sun beat down, reminding me of my impulsive action. No water, no hat, no protection from the heat. Not to mention the fact that I hadn’t even bothered to grab a gun. I’d be dead if I headed into the desert so unprepared. Civilian life was making me soft.

I hit the gas, standing so the motor wouldn’t bog down. Once I cleared the rim and spied the copse of trees, I knew Levi wasn’t there. The kid was probably holed up at a friend’s house drinking beer, playing video games, and ripping on parental authority.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to double-check. Levi had mentioned another spot. Had he told me where? Or had he just alluded to it? Man. The sun was frying my egg. I took a break in the shade. What had we talked about? The need for wide-open spaces. A lone gnarled tree.

Whenever I pondered life’s big questions, I liked to be where I could see for miles. Where I didn’t feel cooped up. Only one place like that within walking distance of both his house and ours.

I sped across the field. In greener years this sweeping vista had shown off the simplistic, yet spectacular prairie splendor. In spring, delicate lavender crocuses, purple rockets, scarlet globe-mallow, and wild yellow snapdragons were sprinkled throughout the low-lying meadow. But in the middle of drought, pretty flowers and green grass were scarce. Succulents like yucca and the cactus held their own even as the wind blew red dust, covering them so they were nearly unrecognizable bumps.

Land is one thing that doesn’t change. It’d been nearly ten years since I’d been on this section. The flat top of the bluff was within view. I floored it, aiming the ATV to the right, climbing the gentle slope instead of trying to spin my way to the top between two colossal boulders.

As I closed the distance, I decided if the shape my eyes locked on was indeed my nephew, I would chew him out. If he planned on living with me even temporarily, I’d have to know where he was at all times. Even times he thought he needed to be alone.

I parked the ATV and squinted at the lump in the middle of the bluff. Yep. It was Levi, all right. I shouted, “Hey, lazybones. You better have a good reason for dragging me out of the air-conditioned house.”

No answer.

Maybe he was sulking. “Levi? I was kidding. Come on. Get up and let’s head back to the ranch and we’ll talk.”

Shadows flickered across the ground. I looked up and saw the misshapen circle of birds flying above my head, heard the cawing of gleeful crows.

I ran.

But I was too late.

Levi was already dead.

He had been shot once in the head. Once in the heart.

I fell to my knees and touched his cheek. His skin felt warm. Supple. He hadn’t been out here long. A gust of wind swirled his hair, and the strands slowly floated down to conceal his face. I frantically brushed them away. I never liked it when he hid behind his hair.

I sat down hard as the finality hit me.

Oh-God-oh-God-oh-God-oh-God.

How could this have happened? How could Levi be dead? How could I possibly tell my sister her son was dead? Dead dead dead repeated in my head until I screamed to stop it.

I clasped my hands around my knees and rocked, staring in absolute disbelief at puddles of blood beneath his lifeless body. I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t do anything but rock, cry, and gape at my nephew’s rapidly cooling remains.

Time had no meaning. I probably would’ve stayed locked in my grief and shock until sunset. Shooing away bugs and predators. Hoping like hell I’d wake up and realize this was just another fucked-up combat nightmare. But the ground rumbled. Some part of my brain recognized hoofbeats. In a normal frame of mind, I would’ve panicked at the sound.

The rider brought the galloping horse under control. I didn’t look up. Instead, I slammed my eyes shut. Go away. If you’re not here, this isn’t real.

Leather creaked, sounding abnormally loud in the afternoon lull. Spurs jangled. The stirrups smacked against horseflesh after the dismount. Dust and the rank smell of horse sweat eddied around me. A shadow fell across Levi.

I heard Jake’s garbled, “No.”

My tears fell harder.

I didn’t speak. I silently begged Jake to let me fall apart out here alone. To let me temporarily get my grief out of my system so when I had to face my fragile sister, I could be strong for her. I’d always been the rock. I didn’t know any other way to be.

Tears poured down my face, blurring my vision. I wasn’t sure who I felt the sorriest for: Levi, because the last minutes of his life had been hell, or Hope, because her life would become a living hell.

Hot wind whirled over the bluff, rattling the leaves of the bushes clustered at the bottom of the ravine. Delivering the scent of sage. The scent I associated with death. I squinted at the heavens, allowing the breeze to dry my cheeks as I studied the wispy white clouds.

In that moment I realized I did know who to feel the most sorry for. The person who’d killed Levi.

I’d find them. And when I did? The “one shot; one kill” motto of the U.S. Army Snipers wouldn’t apply.

No cell service meant Jake had to ride back to the ranch to call the sheriff. I stayed with Levi. Offering explanations and excuses on why I hadn’t been a bigger part of his life in recent years. I whispered my deep regret that I’d lost the chance to get to know him better, the offbeat, tough young man Hope and Dad had loved so much.

Hope. Another wave of bitter tears choked me. Jesus. Jake better have his wits about him and not bring my sister out here. She didn’t need to see her son’s final desecration.

I stood to block the blazing sun as I scanned the horizon. The only access to this remote area was by horse or four-wheeler. Or by walking in, as I suspected Levi had.

Who had he trusted enough to bring to his brooding place?

Without moving, I glanced at the hard-packed ground surrounding Levi’s body and a few feet beyond. I didn’t see footprints, or horseshoe marks. Animal or ATV tracks. Sheriff Dawson had his investigative work cut out for him.

No way could he chalk this up to another accident like he’d done with Albert Yellow Boy.

I didn’t waste energy worrying about Dawson. Strangely enough, I didn’t plan out the best way to tell Hope about Levi. Of all the millions of words in the world, I doubted I could come up with the right ones even if I had a lifetime to prepare.

• • •

An eternity passed before the sheriff showed up. Jake led him to the location on horseback, then spurred away. Two ATVs zipped along behind Dawson, who sat astride a horse. A stretcher was hooked to the side of one machine. The other was piled high with duffel bags. Probably a body bag.

The motley group parked a hundred feet from Levi’s body. Out of respect? Or to preserve the crime scene? When Dawson motioned me over like he expected me to hold the reins of his horse, I turned away. Didn’t give a damn if it pissed him off. I hadn’t stuck around watching over Levi all this time only to be treated as Dawson’s stable hand.

Mad Dog and I were going to butt heads on this, guaranteed.

Heavy footsteps stopped behind me. Followed by the thud and scuffle of bags being dropped in the dirt. No conversation, just the flap flap flap of the nylon straps on the ATVs, the dry wind constantly beating in my ears, and the sorrow screaming in my soul.

Sheriff Dawson didn’t offer condolences. He sidestepped me, inching closer to look at my nephew’s body.

He didn’t move for the longest time. “How long have you been here?” he asked, without facing me.

“I don’t know. Couple of hours.”

“He was like this when you found him?”

No, you stupid cowboy, I shot him in the chest so he wouldn’t blow away.