Ace Benson,one of the few people I call my best friend, heaves a sigh as he stalks into my office on the ranch. He’s been managing the west side of the land near zone five for the last several weeks, fixing the holes in the fence. The look on his face tells me I’m not going to like what he has to say.
“Someone’s been messing with the fence line,” he says. “On the Denver side.”
“Damnit,” I curse. “Any of the horses missing?”
“No,” Ace shakes his head. “But someone slipped through. Tracks lead toward the Denvers’ ranch.”
Fuck it all. Standing up from behind my desk, I shrug off the jacket which is keeping away the chill of the air conditioner and grab my hat from the where it rests on the rack, the Black Diamond insignia burned into the dark felt. Ace follows behind me as we move downstairs and out the front door.
It’s hot as balls out already and the sun is barely peeking up from behind the rolling hills. The grass is already beginning to brown, and it is barely the end of May. I can already tell this summer is going to be a scorcher.
We make our way toward the barn. I text Sawyer, our tech guru, to have him search through the security cameras we haveon that side of the property. If someone cut their way through, we’ll be able to see it. All the ranches which border Black Diamond are all loyal to us. Denver owns Broken Ridge to the west. Garrison has Frontier to the north, and the rest is Blue Skye, which is operated by the Masterson’s.
It would be less surprising if one of them had a broken fence line since their lands butt up against the main roads and federal lands. Thinking about Blue Skye and Broken Ridge has my mind wandering to the new little addition. She arrived safely two days ago, after burying her mother in the family’s local cemetery.
No one showed up for the funeral, of course. I know because I watched from a distance as she silently cried while her mother was lowered into the ground. It had taken some convincing on my end to get Laurel and Richard Masterson to agree to allow their daughter to take her rightful place there. They had flat out refused Peyton when she asked, but I managed to smooth it over. Barely. When they told me what they wanted in exchange, I nearly cracked my teeth with how hard I had clenched them.
“We want nothing to do with the girl. Nothing at all.”
It was their only request.
While I seethed about their lack of compassion for their innocent granddaughter, my father told them he understood. Sadie was a black mark on their family name they cast out and even though Peyton’s only crime was being born to that bitch, she is a reminder of their daughter’s betrayal.
I look up, horses' hooves breaking my thoughts, to find Wesley, my barn manager, walking out with Carnival and Spirit, our geldings. He’s already saddled them, so they are ready to go. I catch Carnival’s bridle and swing up, settling my weight. Ace follows suit on Spirit, and we head through the back pasture and out to the path to zone five where the break is.
Neither of us speak, both of us content to enjoy the companionable silence and serene views. Even from a distance,I can see the break in the fence is purposeful. Instead of the line bowing and tangling on one side or the other, several of the wires are completely cut. This isn’t an easily accessible area other than on horseback. We don’t have any motion detectors back here because the area borders one of our own.
“No tire tracks,” Ace points out. “Or shoe imprints. Horse hooves and human prints could have easily been blown away by the wind.”
“Who the hell would want to cut between these lands anyway?” I wonder as we head toward the zone five repair shed a few yards away. Ace grabs the wire and cutters while I check to make sure nothing is missing, and the security cameras are still operational. Everything appears to be in working order, and nothing is missing. “Someone would have to traverse through Broken Ridge to get here, and this zone is nearly a four-hour journey if they came from Broken Ridge’s main house.”
Ace shrugs and starts unraveling the wire. I join him, and we work in silence, bringing the broken portion of the fence together and pulling it tight. When we are done, we head back across the large pasture for the long trek back to the barn.
As we ride, the sun creeps higher, casting long shadows across the pasture, gilding the tips of the dying grass in gold. It's peaceful out here, quiet. Too damn quiet, if you ask me.
Ace finally breaks the silence. “Think it was a warning?”
I glance over at him, his profile unreadable under the brim of his hat. “You think someone went through all this trouble to send a message?”
“Maybe,” he says with a tight nod. “Or maybe they were trying to see how far they could get before anyone noticed. Test our response time.”
I chew on that for a second. “Well, they’ll learn soon enough we’re not people you test.”
Ace grunts in agreement, but I can feel the tension radiating off him. Something’s not sitting right with either of us, and we both know it. Everyone in the valley knows who we are.Whatwe are. No one is dumb enough attempt something this idiotic.
By the time we get back to the barn, Wesley has the gates open, waiting for us like he sensed the weight of what we’re carrying. I dismount, handing off Carnival’s reins and patting his flank. The gelding snorts, flicking his ears as if sensing the unease.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. It’s Sawyer.
Sawyer
Got something. West cam went dark for 22 minutes at 4:13 this morning. Then came back on like nothing happened. No glitches in the feed. Looks like it was deliberately cut.
Me:
Anything on either side of the blackout?
Sawyer:
