“Well, we could use those skills at the branding next week. You up for it?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, surprise evident in my voice. Branding was typically reserved for the regular ranch hands, not the ex-cons. They didn’t like to give prisoners branding tools for some reason.
Pete nodded once, apparently satisfied. “Good. Larry will fill you in on the details.” He turned to go, then paused. “One more thing.”
“Sir?”
“My son seems to have taken an interest in your work.” Pete’s voice remained neutral, but something in his posture changed. “He’s been asking about you.”
My blood ran cold. Had Ryder been talking to his father about me? About what?
“Nothing bad,” Pete continued, mistaking my silence for confusion. “Just seems impressed by your skills. Thought I should see for myself what all the fuss was about.”
I forced myself to breathe normally. “I appreciate the opportunity, Mr. McGrath.”
“I’m not usually the kind to give chances to people with your background. Don’t make me regret it,” he said simply, then climbed back on the ATV and drove away, leaving me standing in a cloud of dust and anxiety.
That night in the bunkhouse, I lay awake long after the others had fallen asleep. My thoughts swirled with confusion over Pete’s visit. What exactly had Ryder been saying about me? And why? We’d had a deal. There was to be no contact, and no games. If he was talking me up to his father, what was his angle? Then again, if I did a good job on this branding gig, it could get me ahead. A good reference from Pete McGrath could go a long way when starting a new life after my six months were up.
That’s about the time I caught a hint of light moving through the yard outside. I sat up in my bunk, staring out the window. There, walking into the barn, was Ryder. But what was he doing up so late? It wasn’t like him to go wandering around after dark.
Curiosity got the better of me. I swung my legs over the side of my bunk and pulled on my boots, careful not to wake the others. Joey stirred slightly, mumbling something in his sleep before rolling over. I held my breath until his snores resumed, then slipped out the door.
The night air was cool against my skin as I crossed the yard toward the barn. Every instinct told me to turn around, to go back to my bunk and mind my own business. This was exactly the kind of situation I’d been trying to avoid. But something about Ryder sneaking around in the middle of the night didn’t sit right with me. If he was up to something that might cause trouble, I needed to know.
I approached the barn quietly, sticking to the shadows. The large doors were partially open, a sliver of yellow light spilling out onto the dirt. I paused, listening. No voices, just the occasional shuffle of hay and the soft nickering of horses.
Carefully, I eased the door open just enough to slip inside. The barn was dimly lit by a single lantern hanging from a post near the tack room. I scanned the space, eyes adjusting to the low light.
That’s when I saw him. Ryder was sitting on a hay bale, his back to me, shoulders hunched. He was alone. There was no secret rendezvous, no mischief in progress. Just a young man sitting by himself in the middle of the night. Something about the defeated slope of his shoulders made me hesitate. I’d seen it before.
I should have left. This wasn’t my business. But instead, I cleared my throat.
Ryder whipped around, eyes wide with surprise. When he saw it was me, a complex mix of emotions crossed his face. There was fear, embarrassment, and something that looked almost like relief.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, quickly wiping at his face. It was only then I realized he’d been crying.
“Saw the light,” I said simply, keeping my distance. “Thought I should check it out.”
He laughed, a hollow sound that held no humor. “Playing security guard now?”
I shrugged, studying him. His eyes were red-rimmed, his usual cocky demeanor nowhere to be found. “You okay?”
“Since when do you care?” he shot back, but there was no real venom in it. Just exhaustion.
“I don’t,” I lied. “But if something’s wrong with the boss’s son, it could affect all of us.”
Ryder looked away, his jaw tight. “Nothing’s wrong. Just couldn’t sleep.”
I should have accepted that answer and walked away. That would have been the smart move. Instead, I found myselfwalking closer, drawn by the vulnerability I’d never seen in him before.
“Talk to me,” I said. “What’s going on?”
Ryder studied me for a long moment before blowing out a sigh. His shoulders hunched again and he looked more than exhausted, he looked almostwhipped.
“Dad found out I’m going to the Nelson wedding next week,” he said. “And he’s pissed. Fucker’s been screaming at me every chance he gets since this afternoon.”
“I heard they were getting married,” I said carefully, taking a seat on a hay bale opposite him. “Evelyn mentioned it.”
