I send her a quick text at a stoplight.
Me
The town is talking about the Morrisons and Project Watershed. Article in the Gazette. Might get questions. Call if you need me.
Her response comes almost immediately.
Atlee
Already fielded three “casual” inquiries. Don’t worry. Playing dumb like a pro. Be safe.
I can’t help but smile at that. She’s tougher than most give her credit for, my Atlee.
By the time I reach the turnoff to the ranch, my phone is buzzing with texts from Jesse, Truett, and even Lennon, all of them reacting to the article and the town’s response. The general consensus seems to be positive. The tide of public opinion is turning in our favor, exactly as we’d hoped.
But Carson still hasn’t responded, and that worry gnaws at me as I drive the final stretch to the ranch. If the Morrisons have figured out that he’s been feeding us information…I don’t want to think about what they might do. Richard Morrison didn’t get to where he is by playing nice.
As I pull up to the ranch house, I see Truett waiting on the porch, pacing back and forth with barely contained energy. He bounds down the steps as I park, eager for news.
“Town’s buzzing,” I tell him before he can ask. “Everyone has read the article. They’re on our side.”
Relief floods his face. “Thank God. We needed a win.”
“It’s just the first round,” I caution, climbing out of the truck. “Morrison and Noah won’t take this lying down.”
“Let ’em come,” Truett says with the bravado of youth. “The whole county is against them now.”
I wish I shared his confidence, but I’ve seen too much, been through too many battles to believe any victory is assured until it’s over. Still, it’s good to see hope in his eyes again after weeks of strain and worry.
“Heard from Carson?” I ask, changing the subject.
Truett’s expression darkens. “Not a word. Jesse’s about ready to tear the county apart looking for him.”
“Let’s not panic yet,” I say, though my own concern is growing by the minute. “Carson is smart. He knows how to handle himself.”
“Yeah,” Truett agrees, but he doesn’t sound convinced. “Jesse wants to meet when you get back. Plan our next move.”
I nod and unload the supplies from the truck bed. “I’ll be there. Just need to check in with Atlee first and make sure she’s okay.”
“She at work?” Truett asks, helping me with a particularly heavy bag of feed.
“Yeah, at the pharmacy. I’m picking her up when her shift ends.”
He gives me a knowing look. “Still worried about Noah coming after her?”
“Wouldn’t you be?” I counter.
He concedes the point with a shrug. “Fair enough. But after this article, Noah’s going to have his hands full. Might not have time for revenge plots.”
“Maybe,” I allow, but I’m not taking chances. Not with Atlee’s safety.
As we carry the supplies into the barn, I’m struck by how quickly everything has changed. Just twenty-four hours ago, I was being arrested, facing serious charges, and uncertain of the future. Now, the town is rallying behind us, the Morrisons’ scheme is exposed, and for the first time in months, it feels like we might actually come out on top.
But I know better than to count victories before they’re won. There are still too many variables, too many ways this could all go sideways.
And Atlee, caught in the middle of it all because she chose me.
I check my phone again, hoping for a message from Carson, but there’s nothing. Just a text from Atlee.
