They stop beside us, boots crunching on the packed snow.
The older of the two men gives Wyatt a nod, then shifts his gaze to me. “I’m Henry Sutton.” He tips his hat. His tone is quiet but threaded with authority, as if he doesn’t need volume to command respect. “And this is my brother Angus.”
Angus nods, eyes sweeping over Maisie before flicking to me. “Ma’am,” he says, voice roughened by wind and wear. Not unfriendly, but a man who seems more comfortable assessing threats than making small talk.
Henry’s voice softens as he looks back at me. “You must be Sadie.” No pressure. No prying. Just a simple offering of connection. “Glad you made it.”
I swallow, the words sticking in my throat. So he knows. But he doesn’t look at me like I’m broken. He looks like a man who’s seen enough to understand what it takes to start over. Angus, too, though his gaze is more guarded.
Henry glances toward the distant trucks as their taillights vanish into the snow-hushed dark. “And it looks like two more found a reason to stick around tonight,” he adds dryly. “Tank and Tex just left with their girls like they’ve got something worth protecting.”
Angus huffs something that might be a laugh. “Tex looked like he got hit by a freight train.”
Henry shakes his head. “This place was supposed to be a haven for veterans, but I swear to God, it’s starting to look like Cupid moved into the bunkhouse.”
Wyatt grunts, but I don’t miss the flicker of something warm behind his eyes.
Henry squats beside Maisie, brushing a gloved hand lightly along the dog’s trembling flank. The collie blinks up at him, her breathing slower and steadier now.
“Damn good wrap job,” he murmurs, clearly impressed. “You saved her a lot of pain tonight.”
Angus leans in enough to see the bandage. “Clean work,” he says quietly. High praise from a man who seems like he rarely speaks more than necessary.
Henry looks up at me, eyes soft but serious. “Thank you, Sadie.”
The words land heavier than they should. Maybe because they’re sincere. Maybe because I’m not used to people thanking me for anything but disappearing quietly.
“I think I should be the one thanking you,” I say solemnly. “And Maisie is a tough girl. I’m glad I could help.”
Henry rises, giving Wyatt a meaningful look. “Can you take her to the main ranch house? Set her up in the laundry room. She’ll be warm there.”
Before Wyatt can reply, I speak up.
“I… could do it.”
All three men turn toward me.
I swallow. “I mean, if it’s okay with you, Wyatt? I’d like to stay with her tonight. Monitor the bandage. Make sure she’s not in too much pain.”
My cheeks heat instantly. I don’t know why I said it out loud. I just know I don’t want to hand her off. Not yet.
Wyatt studies me for a moment before he nods. “Okay. We’ll take her back to my cabin.”
Henry’s mouth tips into something wry as he straightens and brushes snow from his gloves. “Sounds like she’s in good hands.” He turns to Wyatt. “I’ll send the vet to your place in the morning. In the meantime, painkillers are in the cabinet at the ranch house. Same key as before. Should help if she stiffens up overnight.”
He casts a glance between the two of us, voice pitched light enough to keep it casual. “Maisie’ll probably be in love with her by morning.”
Wyatt says nothing. But the look in his eyes when he glances at me warms me from the inside out.
“Welcome to Havenridge, Sadie,” Henry adds before he and Angus stride back toward the other men. Even from here, it’s easy to see how the men on this ranch lean on each other like a living wall.
And it already feels like I belong in their circle of protection.
Wyatt lifts Maisie, pacing alongside me like a windbreak as we walk back to the truck. He places the dog on the backseat and wraps a blanket around her.
When we’re inside with the heater blasting, he turns to me.
“You did good, Sadie.”
