“That’s so cool!” Huck’s eyes lit up. “Can I have a nickname too?”
“What would you want to be called?” Rowan asked.
“Something tough. Like…Lightning. Or maybe Storm.”
“I think you need to earn a nickname,” Saxon said with mock seriousness. “Has to come from something you’re really good at.”
“I’m good at roping,” Huck said hopefully.
“Then maybe we’ll see,” Rowan said. “Nicknames take time.”
A pickup drove into the driveway, and Huck left the porch. “Morrie!”
“Who’s that?” Saxon said, walking over to Rowan.
“Sierra’s ranch foreman.” He stood, watching the man get out of the car.
Saxon stood next to him. “Any reason to suspect him?”
“Don’t think so.”
Saxon grunted.
Yeah, what he said.
He walked out to the yard to meet Morrie, who was surveying the barn damage. “Howdy.”
The late-afternoon sun cast long shadows across the blackened timber and twisted metal. The smell of smoke still lingered in the autumn air, mixing with the scent of hay and horses from the intact buildings nearby.
Morrie glanced at him, his weathered face grim as he approached.
“Afternoon,” Morrie said. “Heard you boys were installing some security measures.”
“Basic precautions,” Rowan replied, noting the territorial edge in the foreman’s voice.
“Good thinking.” Morrie’s gaze lingered on Rowan with obvious assessment. “Sierra’s been through enough trouble lately.”
“That’s the plan—to make sure she doesn’t go through any more.”
“See that you do.” Morrie sighed then and lowered his voice. Huck had picked up a rope, started twirling it in loop circles.
“Sierra’s been carrying this place on her shoulders since Elway died. She doesn’t need anyone making her life harder than it already is.”
Rowan glanced at him, tried to tamp down a crazy spark of irritation. “I’m not here to make her life harder.”
“Maybe not intentionally.” Morrie’s eyes narrowed. “But sometimes folks bring trouble without meaning to. Sierra’s got enough to worry about without adding heartbreak to the list.”
Heartbreak? The word carried weight that suggested Morrie’s concern went beyond professional duty to his boss.
“Understood,” Rowan said evenly, though his jaw tightened.
“Good.” Morrie straightened, his voice returning to normal volume. “Now, about this barn. Gonna need heavy equipment to clear the debris before we can start rebuilding.”
“What kind of timeline are we looking at?” Saxon asked. He’d said nothing at Morrie’s warning.
“Depends on the insurance payout and whether we hire contractors or lean on neighbors for help.” Morrie glanced at Rowan. “Community around here tends to take care of its own.”
Mack had come out to join them from where he’d been installing motion detectors on the back of the house. “Neighbors helping with the rebuild? I’m sure my dad will help.”
