Travis sounded relieved.
"Could you come look?"
Marlene glanced toward the clock.
Then answered.
"Tomorrow morning."
He swallowed.
"Thank you."
She nodded.
"Don't thank me yet."
He laughed weakly.
"Fair enough."
The next morning, Marlene met Travis at his ranch with Samuel Bennett.
They examined the remaining cattle, discussed feed availability, and reviewed the practical limits of supplementing the animals' ration with prepared nopal.
The situation was serious.
Travis had reduced the herd appropriately, but the remaining animals still needed consistent nutrition and water.
Marlene arranged a limited supply of cactus material as part of a plan developed with professional guidance.
It wouldn't solve everything.
But it could reduce some pressure while Travis located additional feed and made longer-term decisions.
Before she left, he stood beside the gate.
For several seconds, he looked toward her.
Then he said, "I owe you more than an apology."
Marlene shook her head.
"You don't owe me anything for asking questions."
Travis stared.
She continued.
"But if this helps, tell the truth about what it can and can't do."
He nodded.
"I will."
She climbed into her pickup.
As she drove away, she looked toward the dry pasture.
The cattle stood beneath a thin line of shade near the fence.
For the first time since January, she felt the full emotional weight of what was happening around her.
The drought wasn't a debate anymore.
It was a living animal searching for something to eat.
A family deciding which cattle to sell.
A rancher standing beside an empty tank, trying to choose which part of his life's work he could afford to lose.
And she knew the worst months were still ahead.
By August, the county had begun to smell of dry earth and exhausted machinery.
Cattle trailers traveled the roads before sunrise, their drivers trying to avoid the worst afternoon heat. At the livestock auction, animals that would once have attracted competitive bids were selling for much less than their owners hoped. Some ranchers could afford to ship their herds to better grazing. Others lacked the money, and those with the smallest savings faced the harshest decisions.
Roy Mercer sold seventy cattle in one week.
He had raised some of them from calves.
His father had raised their mothers.
The Mercer brand had appeared on cattle in that county for more than sixty years, and Roy had always believed he would pass the operation to his son.
Now he stood beside the auction pens watching trucks carry away animals he couldn't feed.
When Marlene heard, she called him.
Roy answered reluctantly.
"Marlene?"
She took a breath.