She was running toward something.
Toward purpose.
Toward community.
Toward a man who was starting to feel like home…
…but then her phone rang.
eighteen
Where was she?
Metal rang against metal, sharp and loud, with each strike of his hammer. Four more horseshoes for Tango, River’s horse, who threw shoes faster than most people changed shirts. He’d been working since Maggie left, but his focus kept slipping toward the door.
She should’ve been back from Haven House hours ago.
Maybe she was avoiding him.
Which, yeah, was entirely possible after last night.
But wouldn’t she have at least stopped by to check on Princess and the kittens?
Bramble huffed from his spot near the kitten house, as if sensing Anson’s unease. Spark took advantage of the wolfhound’s momentary distraction to make a break for it, tiny orange paws scrambling over the side of the box. The dog turned his head and gently nudged the kitten back into place with his nose.
“At least one of us is doing his job right,” Anson muttered, returning his attention to the horseshoe. The metal had cooled too much. He thrust it back into the forge, working the bellows until the coals glowed bright orange. Heat blasted his face, buthe barely felt it. His mind kept circling the same thought: Maggie should be here by now.
Boone wouldn’t let anything happen to her. That was why Anson had asked him to drive her. Boone was the most capable man at Valor Ridge—besides maybe Ghost, but Ghost would’ve spooked her with his intensity. Still, the afternoon had stretched into evening, and the constant low-grade worry humming in his chest had sharpened into claws.
The forge fire crackled, demanding his attention. He pulled the horseshoe out and hammered it into shape, working out his anxiety with each blow against the anvil. Ember and Smoke watched from the kitten box, little heads tilted in identical curiosity. He wasn’t going to be able to keep them in that box much longer. Now that they were stronger, they were getting curious. In another week,
His phone buzzed, vibrating against the workbench. He dropped the hammer and lunged for it, not caring that the hot horseshoe clattered to the floor.
“Boone?”
“Hey, tell Maggie she left her notepad in my truck.”
“What do you mean? She’s not here.”
A pause. “Dropped her at her cabin over an hour ago. Last I saw, she was headed toward the forge.”
The unease that had been building all day crystallized into something sharp and cold. “She’s not here.”
“Shit.” Another pause, briefer. “Want me to head over there?”
“No. I’ll go. You see anything unusual today? Anyone who didn’t belong?”
“No, nothing that pinged on my radar. But I’ll talk to Ghost and the others, have them do a perimeter sweep. Check in when you find her. And Anson?”
His throat felt like sandpaper. “Yeah?”
“She’s okay. Nobody could’ve gotten onto ranch grounds without Ghost knowing.”
But somebody had. Somebody evil enough to carve up an innocent cat and leave her for dead. He glanced over at Princess, at the stark white bandages wrapped around her middle, and his stomach twisted.
But he didn’t bother pointing that out to Boone. He hung up without responding and turned to Bramble, who had risen to his feet.
“Stay,” he ordered, pointing to the kitten box. “Guard.”
