I shake my head. I hear the words that are coming out of his mouth, but I can’t physically get anything to come in.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a saddled black stallion running toward us. The panic that consumed me five seconds ago is gone as I realize the stallion is Caleb’s horse, and there’s a gaping wound on his hindquarters.
Chapter Forty-One
Wade
My dad’s ringtone snaps me back to reality just as Sutton’s breathing regulates.
“Dad?”
“Wade,” his voice is tight, strained. “Have you heard from Caleb?”
“Not since this morning. Why?”
“He took Thunder out a few hours ago,” Dad explains. “He’s usually not out this long, but he said he was going over to the Bishop Ranch. He missed lunch, and he always calls to tell your mom if he won’t be here.”
“Shit, I’ll try calling him again. It went to voicemail earlier.”
“Wade,” Sutton says softly. “That’s Thunder. He’s injured, and there’s no sign of Caleb.”
Jared and Tommy are already jumping on their horses to start out the way Thunder came from.
I grip the phone tighter, my knuckles whitening. “Injured how?”
“Looks like claw marks,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, like saying it louder might make it worse. “Deep scratches down his hindquarters.”
The world seems to tilt slightly as I process his words. Caleb’s tough, but this… this is something else.
“He’s not here,” I say quickly, scanning the barn as if Caleb might materialize from the shadows. “Let me ask Frank.”
“Did Caleb come through here earlier?”
He frowns, shaking his head. “Haven’t seen him since yesterday.”
“I’ll get on the four-wheeler and head out that way. I’ll have your mom see if she can find him on the tracking app. I’ll start checking the trails.”
“I’ll get some horses saddled up,” Frank says as he gestures for Benny to follow.
“Keep your phone on,” Dad says before the line goes dead.
The yard springs to life as the others catch wind of the urgency. Bridles jingle, and hooves stamp against the floor as the horses pick up on the tension.
Sheriff Clark is already on his radio asking for the dispatcher to get someone out here with four-wheelers and whatever else we may need to find my son.
Sutton’s hand finds mine, her fingers threading through mine with a firm, grounding pressure.
“We’ll find him,” she says, her voice calm and steady, the anchor I didn’t know I needed.
I nod, swallowing hard. My throat feels like it’s lined with sandpaper.
“We’ve got a missing person near the Bishop Ranch. Requesting ATVs, four-wheelers, and a rescue helicopter on standby. Repeat, this is a priority call,” Sheriff repeats into his radio. “I’m going to need you to call in other units as well. All hands on deck. Fifteen-year-old male, possibly injured. I’ve gotunits bringing in three criminals, too. Start them on processing but keep them separated. They speak to no one.”
His efficiency should be reassuring, but it only makes my stomach clench tighter.
Sutton gives my hand a tug, pulling me toward the row of saddled horses. She’s pushing me toward a sturdy bay gelding with a calm demeanor.
“You need to stay focused,” she says, her tone brooking no argument as she hands me the reins. “Caleb’s counting on you.”
