He still hadn’t called Rowan Dad, but she wasn’t pushing. It would come. Maybe. Hopefully.
Sierra glanced at the clock on the mantel. Eight thirty. Rowan had been gone for over an hour, and the rodeo started at noon. “He should be back soon, baby. Keep getting ready.”
She tackled the filing cabinet next, sorting through years of ranch records and tax documents. It was easier to focus on the numbers, the practical details of hay purchases and veterinary bills, than to think about the personal items that would come later.
An hour passed before she worked up the courage to approach the bookshelf where he’d kept his personal correspondence. Her fingers traced the spines of his favorite novels—Louis L’Amour westerns and Tom Clancy thrillers—before reaching for the ornate wooden box where he’d kept important family documents.
Inside, she found pictures of her parents, their marriage certificate, her birth certificate, report cards from elementary school that he’d saved. At the bottom of the box was a framed photograph that made her breath catch.
She was thirteen in the picture, wearing cowboy boots and a fringed vest, her hair in two braids that hung past her shoulders. Her grandfather stood beside her, his arm around her shoulders, both of them grinning at the camera. She remembered that day—her first time competing in barrel racing, nervous and excited and desperate to make him proud.
“I miss you so much, Grandpa.” The words came out as a whisper, her throat tight with unshed tears. “I don’t know how to do this without you. How to keep the ranch going, how to protect Huck, how to be half the person you raised me to be.”
She traced his face in the photograph with one finger, remembering the sound of his laugh. “But I have something amazing to tell you. Rowan came back.” A smile tugged at her lips despite the tears. “Remember how you always said he was a good kid who just needed a chance to grow up? Well, he grew up, and he came back, and Grandpa…he’s incredible. He’s patient with Huck, and strong, and protective. He looks at me the way Dad used to look at Mom. Like I’m his whole world.”
Her voice grew stronger as she spoke. “He’s teaching Huck things you would have loved to see. Roping, and how to be brave, and what it means to be a good man. And he loves us—really loves us, not just because we need him but because we’re his family now. You’d be so proud of the man he became.”
She wiped away a tear with the back of her hand. “I just wish you were here to see it. To see Huck with his father, to see us finally being the family you always wanted for us.”
The photograph showed them both so happy, so sure of their place in the world. Sierra had never imagined that day that she’d be sitting in his office alone, sorting through the pieces of a life cut short.
She went to put it back, but it didn’t sit flat on the bottom, so she picked it up. Huh. She turned it over and found a small latch hidden behind the backing. When she pressed it, the back of the frame popped open to reveal a small brass key taped to the inside.
What? Sierra stared at the key. She’d been through every drawer in this desk, every cabinet in this office. Where was there a lock she hadn’t found?
She stood up, looking around the room with new eyes. The filing cabinets used regular keys. The desk drawers weren’t locked. But there, hanging on the wall behind his desk, was her parents’ wedding portrait in an ornate silver frame.
No. That felt too easy. But when Sierra lifted the heavy frame from its hook—what in the world?—she found a small safe built into the wall, its door flush with the wood paneling and painted to match, with a small keyhole.
The brass key fit perfectly.
An envelope folder sat inside the safe, the manila folder inside thick with documents. Her hands shook as she pulled it out and returned to the desk, spreading the contents across the surface under the morning light.
The first item was a newspaper clipping from the Idaho Falls Post Register, dated six months ago. The headline read: “Mysterious Deaths Rock Mining Community.” The article detailed the suspicious deaths of two environmental activists who’d been investigating lithium mining operations in southern Idaho. Both men had been found shot in remote areas after raising concerns about water contamination and illegal mining practices.
Sierra’s blood ran cold as she read the details. The pattern was identical to what had been happening in Renegade—intimidation, environmental sabotage, and ultimately, murder for those who refused to be silenced.
The next item was a hand-drawn map of the local area, with ranch properties marked in different colors. Her own ranch was marked in red, along with the Hendrick place, the Jenkins spread, and three others. A note in her grandfather’s scrawl read:
All have water rights and mineral access.
Beneath the map were geological surveys showing lithium deposits throughout the area, with the highest concentrations centered around the ranch properties marked on his map.
“Mining operations,” Sierra breathed, understanding flooding through her. “It was never about the land. It was about what’s underneath it.”
Her grandfather’s notes were meticulous, documenting months of research into Ralph Rousseau’s business dealings. Shell companies, out-of-state investors, equipment purchases that didn’t match his claimed business activities. And on a Post-it Note, the words Shadow Syndicate.
The final document in the folder was a draft letter addressed to the Colorado Bureau of Investigation. Sierra’s hands trembled as she read her grandfather’s words, hearing his voice.
I am writing to report my suspicions regarding a criminal conspiracy operating in and around Renegade, Colorado. Local businessman Ralph Rousseau has been systematically targeting ranch properties with significant lithium deposits, using intimidation, sabotage, and, I believe, the killing of cattle to force property owners to sell.
I have documented evidence of environmental contamination, equipment sabotage, and threatening behavior directed at multiple ranchers in our area. Two men who I believe were attempting to expose similar operations in Idaho were found dead under suspicious circumstances.
I fear that this operation is part of a larger criminal enterprise with connections beyond our local area. I urge immediate investigation before more lives are lost.
I have attempted to warn my fellow ranchers, but not all believe the threat is real. I spoke with Mayor Alden Jenkins yesterday to alert him of this threat and am copying him on this letter.
Although I no longer hold the office to compel a further investigation, I request a response to my suspicions and an investigation into this matter.
