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Brutal Heir (Billionaire Heirs #2) Chapter 19 54%
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Chapter 19

Ezequiel

I trudge through the thick mud, feeling it seep into my boots, numbing my toes. Meanwhile, the heat of the day chips away at my strength. The cow’s pitiful mooing reaches my ears, making me quicken my pace. I have to get closer, but, with every step, the mud’s suction-like grip slows me down.

The cow’s desperate eyes plead with me for help, and I can feel my heart wrench in response.

I curse under my breath, my frustration mounting. I wish I had brought more help with me, but Addler gave the cowboys the weekend off, leaving me to deal with the ranch on my own. That leaves me with only one person I can call.

With a deep breath, I pull out my phone and dial Addler, hoping he’ll pick up. The phone rings a few times before he answers.

“What?” he answers, sounding annoyed.

“Got a cow stuck in the mud,” I say, my voice tense with worry.

There’s a pause on the other end. “Ah, damn.” I can almost hear Addler’s regret at sending everyone out for the weekend. “Where?” he asks curtly.

“The Stagecoach,” I reply, wiping sweat from my forehead with my sleeve.

“How bad?” Addler asks curtly.

“I don’t know how she ended up this far in,” I say, frustration mounting. “She’s been struggling and she’s about worn out.”

“I’m on the way,” Addler says, and I can hear him moving in the background.

“Grab the trailer,” I manage to throw in while he’s still on the line. “I came out in the quad so I could search farther out.”

“Got it,” he replies, then hangs up. Relief washes over me, knowing help is on the way.

I turn back to the cow, feeling helpless. She’s still stuck up to her belly in the mud, and I can’t leave her like this. With a deep breath, I trudge back to the quad, my heart heavy with guilt and worry. I hope Addler doesn’t take his damn time.

As I wait for him to arrive, I try to think of a way to help the cow. I know I can’t move her on my own, but maybe there’s something else I can do. I pace back and forth, my mind racing to come up with an idea.

I go back to the quad, searching the saddlebag for a strap. I pull it out and unroll it. Eying the distance, I realize it’s not going to be long enough. Still, I have to try, so I fight through the mud to get back to the animal.

As I struggle to secure the strap around the cow’s midsection, I confirm it’s not long enough to lift her out of the mud. “It’s not gonna work, girl.” I tug and pull at it, but it won’t stretch any farther.

My frustration mounts as I know we need something longer to get the cow out of this predicament. I go back to the saddlebag, pulling out a couple of thick bungie cords.

With renewed determination, I grab the end of the strap from on top of the mud and pull the cord through it before heading back to the quad. By now I’m starting to feel the burn in my thighs. Man, I’m going to feel this tomorrow.

I struggle to put the clip on the back of quad then get on and turn the key. The back tires slip, going into the mud. Now I’m slipping, trying to move slowly, to avoid hurting her further, but she cries out in pain as I pull the strap tight.

I freeze, feeling guilty for adding to her suffering. The clip pings as the strap snaps. “Fuck.”

I shut the quad down and sit there for a moment, feeling defeated. I reach for a water bottle, unscrew the cap, and take a long drink of the cool water, feeling it quench my thirst.

My gaze falls on the cow again. She must need this more than I do. After being stuck in the mud for so long, she must be dehydrated.

Without a second thought, I head back toward the cow, water bottle in hand. As I approach her, she looks at me with tired eyes, her mooing pitiful, her mouth covered in mud.

“We’ll get you out of here, girl.” I try to soothe her with gentle words and a soft touch, but I know that she needs more than just my comfort. With one hand on the water bottle and the other on the cow’s head, I pour the water into her mouth, one sip at a time until the bottle is empty. She drinks it down eagerly, and I feel a sense of relief knowing that I’m able to help her in some small way.

I take a deep breath, trying to come up with a new plan to rescue the cow. Time is ticking. I stay by her side, offering her comfort and support, keeping her company as we wait for Addler to arrive.

The sun beats down on us, and sweat trickles down my back. But I don’t mind the discomfort. At this point, I’ve sweated out most of this morning’s anger. Maybe it’s just what I needed to get over this shit.

Now I have to figure out what to do about Sage. Which leads me to something else I can do. I reach for my phone and shoot off a message.

“Get me everything you can find on Sage Donohue.” I include her phone number and email.

I get back a simple reply. On it .

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