By the time we reach the house, Sutton’s already on the porch, her phone in hand. She takes one look at the dogs and starts barking orders, directing us to bring them inside so she can clean their wounds.
The way she takes control of high-stress situations was annoying at first, but it’s actually sexy as hell right now. I’m exhausted and don’t have the energy, for one, but she’s so good at keeping a calm head. It’s nice that we can work together as a team to handle whatever is thrown at us.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sutton
The morning sun is already high when I climb into the truck, the tension from the chaos earlier still knotting my shoulders. I need to check on my dad’s herd and make sure the trouble hasn’t reached him. Dad told me that all was well on his end, but it would take him hours to check the pastures to see if anything had gotten to him. Chances are, if it’s just one big cat, then it would be too full to go for any cattle on his land, too, but with him being the only one on the ranch, there’s no telling.
While I would probably sleep better thinking that this cougar showing up is pure coincidence, I don’t think it’s the case. The outbreak, and now a cougar, is too much. Cougars are rare in this area, but there are plenty of other ranches it would have gone through prior to getting here. Tackett’s ranch and Dad’s border this one. A hungry cougar would have gone after the herds there before coming to Wade’s.
I think this one was planted. I have no proof. It’s all an assumption, but my gut is screaming that this isn’t a fluke incident.
As I shift into reverse, ready to back out, the passenger and driver-side doors open simultaneously. Wade and Caleb hop in, settling into their seats like they own the place.
I glare at them, my hand still on the gearshift. “What the hell are you two doing?”
“You’re not going over there alone,” Wade says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not with a cougar prowling around.”
“I can handle myself,” I snap, but Caleb’s already buckling his seatbelt, looking at me with an expression that’s equal parts stubborn and concerned.
“It’s not up for debate,” Wade says firmly. “Drive.”
I’m irritated, but part of me is also flattered that the two boys care enough to make sure I’m safe. I give Wade a small, grateful smile. I’ll admit, it’s kind of nice to have someone want to protect me.
I throw the truck into gear and pull out onto the dirt road. “Fine. But don’t expect me to wait around while you two play cowboy.”
The drive to my dad’s place is quiet, tension hanging in the cab like a storm cloud. When we pull up to the house, Dad’s already on the porch, his weathered face breaking into a grin when he sees Caleb.
“There’s my favorite ranch hand!” Dad calls out, waving us over. Caleb’s face lights up, and he jumps out of the truck before it even comes to a full stop.
“Hey, Mr. Frank!” Caleb says, jogging up to him. Dad claps a hand on his shoulder, guiding him toward the barn as they chat like old friends. I watch them, stunned. My dad—the gruff, no-nonsense man who’s never had much patience for anyone—is smiling and laughing with a fifteen-year-old.
My eyes are wide as I take in the scene. I’ve never seen him be this kind to anyone before. Honestly, on the rare occasions he was around children, he basically grunted at them or ignored them.
“What is happening?” I mutter, climbing out of the truck. Wade chuckles beside me, his eyes following Caleb and Dad. “Do we have to deal with alien abductions now, too?”
“Were they not this friendly when you brought him before?”
“Not like this, but it’s still jarring to me.”
We saddle up the horses, Caleb chatting animatedly with Dad while Wade and I work. Once we’re ready, we head out to check the herd, riding in a loose line as we scan the pasture for any signs of trouble. The cattle seem calm, but we start rounding them up anyway, moving them closer to the house for safety.
As we work, something catches my eye. A few of the cows have different brands than I’m used to seeing on Dad’s herd, and their ear tags are a different color, too. I narrow my eyes, committing the details to memory. I’ll ask Dad about it later, but for now, we’ve got work to do.
“How’s it looking over there?” Wade calls out, his voice carrying over the open field.
“All good,” I reply, though my mind’s still turning over the odd branding. Caleb rides up beside me, his horse’s hooves kicking up small clouds of dust.
“Mr. Frank says we should pen ’em up closer to the barn,” he says. “Just to be safe like we did for ours.”
We spend the next hour moving the herd, the sun beating down on us as we work. By the time we’re finished, sweat’s dripping down my back and my arms ache from handling the reins. But the cattle are safe, penned up tight near the house.
Back at the barn, Dad’s waiting for us with a pitcher of lemonade, his gruff demeanor softening as he hands Caleb a glass.
“You did good out there, kid,” he says, clapping Caleb on the back. The boy beams, his chest puffing up with pride.
I don’t know that this man has ever complimented me, and I’m his daughter. Maybe I was right all those years: he wanted a son and not a daughter. The thought hits hard, my stomach dropping as tears prick at my eyes. I shake my head and knock the thoughts loose.
