Kyle nodded.

“Your pride or stubbornness or whatever chip you’ve got on your goddamn shoulder about your inexperience as a rancher is what led to that animal dying. It’s your fault. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. That animal was in your care. Which means you suck it up and ask for help from someone who’s been through this type of birth before if you don’t have the first clue about what to do.

“I don’t give a flying f**k if you and Celia had a big fight before you came out here. When you saw this heifer was in distress? The very first thing you should’ve done was slammed a lid on your pride and ran up to the house to ask Celia for her help. We both know Celia would’ve hauled ass down here had she been aware of the seriousness of the situation. But you kept that from her. Why? I didn’t think you had a huge male ego that doesn’t allow you to admit to a woman that something is beyond your skill set. Jesus. Don’t ever exhaust yourself to the point your inexperience kills an innocent animal when you have the chance to save that animal.”

He had no response. He felt sick.

“You are a smart guy. You don’t have to figure this shit out by yourself. Don’t let the macho attitude that comes from being a professional bull rider permeate this part of your life. You don’t gotta be the toughest one on the dirt here.”

That stung.

“You are responsible for the lives of a couple hundred animals. The only person who expects you to know everything about this…is you. That’s an unreasonable burden to place on yourself. And here’s a news flash. Even if you live to be a hundred you’ll never know it all about ranching. Listen. Learn. Ask questions. Ask for help. And quit using your feelings of inadequacy against Celia. She is your wife. Be goddamn grateful she is your wife.”

“I am.”

“Good.”

“Although it’s too little too late.”

“For that animal. Not for the rest of them. I don’t envy you cleaning up this mess. And I’m gonna go against all my previous advice and suggest you don’t involve Celia in disposing of the carcass.” Fletch propped his hands on his hips and gave Kyle an arch look. “Any other questions while I’m here?”

Kyle’s initial response was to say nope, but he bit it back. “So as far as the cleanup…I just get the tractor through the big barn door and scoop the cow into the bucket?”

“That’d be easiest.”

“And then I dump it? Where? The ground is too hard in most places to dig a hole.”

Fletch ran his hand through his hair. “I suggest you dump it in the closest pasture the tractor can get to, that’s farthest from the herd.”

Kyle remembered from a conversation with Josh that it was important to control where the coyotes would find the carcass to try to keep the nasty scavengers from the nearly helpless calves. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Let’s get her out of the equipment.” Fletch pointed to the heifer, now dead.

Fletch left, leaving Kyle to deal with everything alone.

He loaded the cow without issue. Slow going on the ice, in the dark. Each bump and skid jarred the whole tractor with the heavy weight the front end carried. After he cleared the fourth gate, he found a spot by a steep incline. He lowered the bucket and rolled her out, over the fence into the ravine. Then he headed back. Two and a half hours had passed since he’d started the gruesome journey. One final check on the mamas close to the house, and the heifers again, and he closed it all down just as the very edges of the sky began to lighten.

The house was quiet. Kyle stripped where he stood and stumbled to the bathroom. Not even the sweet scent of Celia’s shampoo roused him from the feeling of despair as he washed away the grime.

Although he was exhausted, and naked, he couldn’t crawl into bed next to Celia yet. He stared out the bedroom window, wishing he could roll the clock back twenty-four hours.

“Kyle?” she murmured sleepily.

Funny how just the sound of her voice soothed him. Filled him with a feeling of shelter. Would he break down when he told her his pride had cost the lives of two animals?

“What’s wrong? Omigod, are you hurt?” The covers rustled and her feet hit the floor.

He didn’t deserve her concern. Not after the way he’d acted today. “I’m not hurt.” On the outside. On the inside? Different story. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

But Celia wouldn’t allow him to hide. She ducked beneath the arm he’d braced on the wall, getting right in his face. “Talk to me.”

“I’m sorry.” He gathered her into his arms and held her against him.

“Sorry about what?”

“Everything. You…you deserve better than what you got from me today. I f**ked up.”

“Kyle. You’re shaking. What the hell is goin’ on? You’re scaring me.”

So he told her. Without holding anything back. Without trying to put a spin on it so he didn’t come off looking and sounding like a stubborn fool. When he finished, his face was wet. His voice was hoarse. But his conscience was nowhere near clean.

Celia stepped back, away from him. He didn’t blame her. But when she lovingly, sweetly ran her fingers down his arm to tug on his hand, he felt like an idiot again. He should’ve known she wouldn’t leave him when he was like this, no matter if he deserved it.

“Come on. Crawl in bed and let me warm you up.”

He allowed himself to be led like a child. Beneath the sheets he reached for her, resting the side of his face on her chest, his arms circling her waist.