“Bramble?” His voice took on an edge of panic.
“Hey.” She set a hand on his arm and waited until he looked at her. “It’s okay. We’ll find him. He can’t have gone far.”
He swallowed hard, then nodded.
They did find him a few minutes later, downstream, lying on his belly near a thick cluster of bushes, making soft, anxious sounds.
As they approached, Maggie heard a weak, desperate mewing coming from beneath the branches. A sound she recognized. “Oh my God. More kittens?”
Anson dropped to his knees beside Bramble and gently pushed aside the foliage. “No, it’s an adult cat. Hurt.”
Maggie crouched next to him, peering into the shadows. A small calico huddled against the base of the bush, sides heaving with shallow breaths. Dried blood matted the fur along her flank, and she looked way too skinny.
“Is this Princess Jellybean?” she whispered. “We were just talking about her at Nessie’s. We thought she could be the kittens’ mother.”
“Yeah, it’s her.” He reached in carefully, his hands gentle as he examined the cat. She hissed, but it was half-hearted at best. “Jesus. This is a knife wound.”
“A knife wound?” Her blood ran cold as the memory washed over her—that first morning at the ranch, the sound that had torn her from sleep.
“The scream I heard,” she whispered, her fingers digging into Anson’s arm. “That first morning. I woke up to a noise—a struggle and then this... this cut-off cry.” Her stomach twisted with horror. “Oh God, Anson. Someone was outside my cabin that morning and did this to her. Someone hurt her on purpose. And she’s been out here bleeding for days.”
The thought of Princess Jellybean dragging herself along the creek, wounded and weak, while her babies waited…
Tears burned her eyes. “I should have investigated more. If I’d looked harder, maybe we could have helped her sooner.”
Anson’s jaw tightened. “Not your fault. I told you it was probably a coyote.”
“But she’s been suffering all this time. All alone, while we’ve been taking care of her babies. Oh God, it was Landry, wasn’t it?” Fear wrapped cold fingers around her throat and tightened into a fist.
It was an irrational fear.
She knew it was.
He wasn’t here, lurking in the woods, hurting cats.
He couldn’t be.
But her pulse roared in her ears, drowning out the creek’s gentle song. She’d been found. He’d followed her all the way to Montana. To this hidden corner of the world where she’d started to feel safe.
“Maggie.” Anson’s voice cut through the panic, his hands suddenly on her shoulders, steadying her. “Look at me.”
She forced herself to meet his eyes. Gone was the hesitation, the careful distance he’d maintained since their near-kiss yesterday.
“We don’t know it’s him. Could be anyone. Hiker. Hunter. Teenager. Someone from town, trying to fuck with the Ridge. But doesn’t matter right now. Cat needs help. You with me?”
The directness of his gaze, the steadiness of his voice, pulled her back from the edge.
She nodded and sucked in a shaky breath. “I’m with you.”
Princess Jellybean mewed again, the sound weak and plaintive. Her eyes, clouded with pain, fixed on Maggie’s face.
“We need to get her to Lila,” Anson said, already shrugging out of his flannel. He reached under the bush again and wrapped it carefully around the trembling calico, creating a makeshift nest. “Now.”
Bramble led the way with anxious backward glances. Night had fallen fully, but Anson moved with certainty through the darkness, one hand holding the bundled cat, the other finding Maggie’s elbow when the path grew uneven.
Lila was in the barn, checking on her patients one last time before bed, when they burst in. She took one look at the bundle in Anson’s arms and motioned them to her exam table.
“What happened?” She was already pulling on gloves, reaching for her medical kit.
