Claimed by 3 Mountain Men (Silver Ridge Mountain Men)

1. Hank

1

HANK

A s I walk through the forest, a gnawing unease grips me.

Something isn’t right. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach.

Dad’s got that look again, the one that says he’s been running the numbers in his head all day and they’re not adding up. Ben’s over by the truck, loading up the last of the chainsaws, his broad back glistening with sweat under the afternoon sun.

“We should head back,” I say, staring up at the heavy gray cloud looming overhead.

Some instinct is telling me that we need to get the hell out of here.

Now.

My earliest memories are of these towering pines and the sound of axes biting into timber, the scent of fresh-cut wood mingling with the crisp mountain air. Dad taught us everything – how to judge a tree's age by its rings, how to fell it safely.

How to survive out here.

“You know,” Dad starts, his voice gruff, “if JT were here, we’d have this done by now.” Jesus Christ. Here we go again.

“I know,” I mutter, glancing down at my watch.

We’ve got thirty minutes of daylight left.

Ben, JT, and I, each carved out our roles in this family business. But JT’s the one Dad wants to run everything.

Except, he left three years ago and hasn’t been back.

I glance over at Ben. He doesn’t say anything, just keeps working, but I can see from the way his shoulders tense up that he’s not happy. This isn’t the first time we’ve heard it, and it won’t be the last.

“JT’s got a knack for this stuff,” Dad continues, more to himself than to us. “Always knew how to handle the crew, keep things running smoothly.”

“Yeah, well, JT’s not here, is he?” I say, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. “We’re doing just fine.” I start walking over to the truck. “Let’s load up and get home, alright?”

Dad sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, Hank, I know. Just… these contracts, they’re getting tougher. More competition out there. Could use his head for numbers.”

Ben finally turns around, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “We’ll manage, Dad. Always do.”

I nod in agreement, even though I can feel the frustration bubbling up inside. It’s not like we don’t miss JT too. He’s got that charm, that leadership that people just naturally follow. But he’s off doing his own thing, and we’ve got to pick up the slack.

“Dad, come on!” I holler, waving my arm. “Shut the damn saw off and let’s go!”

I hear it then.

A heavy, strange snapping sound followed by a terrible, guttural scream.

“Dad!” My scream echoes through the eerily silent forest, raw and panicked.

A massive broken log had fallen from the trees above, crashing directly down onto him. Thick, red blood pools from the injury in his head, running out onto the cold, wet earth.

Ben drops the chainsaw and sprints towards us. Deep lines of concern etched on his face along with fear. We’re both terrified. I’m already at Dad’s side, my hands trembling as I press them against the gash on the back of his head.

Blood is everywhere, and it’s bad – way worse than anything we’ve seen before.

“Ben, hurry!” I shout, my voice cracking. “He’s losing too much blood!”

Ben reaches us, his face pale and eyes wide with terror. “We need to get him to a hospital. Now!”

I nod, trying to keep my voice steady, but inside I’m screaming.

Dad’s breathing is ragged and gurgling, each gasp a struggle. His eyes meet mine, and I see the pain, the fear.

“Hank,” he manages to say, his voice weak. “Take care of the family. Protect...protect the land.”

“We will, Dad, but you’ll be okay,” I choke out, tears blurring my vision. “Just hang on. Stay with me, alright?”

Ben and I lift him as gently as we can, but it’s clear he’s fading fast. We get him into the truck, and Ben takes the wheel, speeding down the dirt road towards town. I keep a firm pressure on the wound, my mind racing.

All my clothes are red, soaked through with his blood.

Hold on Dad, just hold on. I say to myself silently, like a mantra.

But as the truck barrels down the road, I feel Dad’s hand go limp. I look at him, and his eyes are closed, his breathing has stopped. Panic surges through me.

“Dad! No, no, no!” I shout, shaking him, but he doesn’t respond. “Ben, he’s not breathing!”

Ben’s face twists in anguish, and he presses the gas pedal harder, the engine roaring. “Hold on, Dad. Just hold on!”

Minutes later, the truck screeches to a halt outside the ER, and Ben and I haul Dad inside, shouting for help. Doctors swarm us, shouting orders, doing everything they can, but I can see it in their eyes—they know it's over.

They take him away, leaving us standing in the lobby.

Minutes stretch into eternity, and we have no choice but to wait.

The ticking of the clock on the wall feels like a hammer against my skull. Ben is pacing back and forth, his fists clenched at his sides. I can't hold it in any longer.

“This wouldn’t have happened if JT was around,” I snap, my voice low but fierce.

“Don’t start, Hank,” Ben sighs. “This isn’t the time.”

“When is it ever the time?” I hiss, my anger boiling over. “Dad’s been working himself to the bone ever since JT left. We’re down a man, Ben, and it’s killing him. Literally.”

Ben’s jaw tightens, and he takes a step closer. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t feel the same way? But blaming JT right now isn’t going to help Dad.”

I stand up, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if JT hadn’t bailed on us. He’s out there doing God knows what, while we’re here trying to keep everything together. Dad’s been pushing himself too hard, trying to make up for it.”

Ben’s eyes flash with frustration. “You’re not the only one who’s angry, Hank. But JT isn’t here to defend himself, and we’ve got bigger problems to deal with.”

I open my mouth to retort, but the ER doctor approaches us.

"I’m sorry," he says, his voice gentle but firm. "We did everything we could, but your father’s injuries were too severe. He lost too much blood."

Dad’s gone.

The rest of the world vanishes then. The reality crashes down on me like a wave, pulling me under, suffocating me.

The doctor continues speaking but I don’t hear any more words.

Neither one of us says anything. Instead, we stand there dumbfounded and stupid. I had known it was too late, but hearing the words spoken out loud—it’s as if someone’s shot me right in the fucking head.

“God dammit!” I holler, kicking the waiting room chair over with a solid, hard smack. It breaks, splintering right where my foot landed.

I turn hard.

I’ve got nothing else to say here. No other reason to be in this God forsaken hospital.

I storm out of the hospital, my vision blurred with rage and grief. The fresh air hits me like a slap in the face, but it does little to calm the storm spiraling inside. I make my way to the truck and lean against it, trying to catch my breath,

I hear the hospital doors swing open behind me, and I know it’s Ben.

“Hank,” he says softly, but I don’t turn around. I can’t.

“We need to call JT,” he continues after a moment, his voice firmer. “He needs to know.”

I spin around, anger flaring up again. “You think I want to talk to him right now? You think I want to hear his sorry excuses for not being here?”

“It’s not about what we want. It’s about what needs to be done. He’s still our brother, and he deserves to know. Dad would want him to know.”

I glare at him, my fists clenching and unclenching. I know he’s right, but it doesn’t make this any easier. The anger battles with the grief, each emotion fighting for dominance. Finally, I exhale sharply, the fight leaving me. “Fine. Call him. But don’t expect me to be civil.”

Ben nods, pulling out his phone. He steps a few feet away, dialing JT’s number. I can hear the faint ringing, each tone stretching the seconds into hours.

“JT,” Ben says, his voice strained. “It’s Ben. We need you to come home. Now.”

He pauses, listening to whatever JT is saying on the other end. I can see the pain in Ben’s eyes, the struggle to keep it together.

“Dad’s gone, JT,” he says finally, his voice breaking. “We lost him today. It was bad. We need you here.”

Another pause. “I know you’re a thousand miles away, but you need to get your ass here.”

Another pause, then Ben hangs up.

“He’ll be on the first flight home,” he says, his voice hollow.