"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Yeah. Just needed a minute."
She moved next to me, her gaze following mine out toward the ridge. "You're really not going to tell us what you're digging into, are you?"
"Not yet."
"Fair enough." She was quiet for a moment, then added, "For what it's worth, I think Aunt Lois would be proud of you."
I looked at her, surprised.
Sadie shrugged. "She never liked leaving questions unanswered either."
That might have been the truest thing anyone had said all night.
I left not long after that, my mind racing as the pieces started to fall into place. As soon as I got to my car, I pulled out my phone and sent Torin a quick text telling him what I'd learned. His reply came almost instantly.
Torin: Can I come over?
My pulse kicked up as I typed back.
Me: Yes
CHAPTER 7
TORIN
The drive to Claire's place took fifteen minutes, but it felt like thirty. I kept replaying the text she'd sent. It was short but had enough details to make my chest tighten. Her father had mentioned a horse. A bronc named Bad Habit that had shaped the Hollister herd.
Bad Habit.
I'd seen that name before. My fingers drummed once against the steering wheel, then stilled. It was all adding up… the missing file… the breeding records Dawson had pulled from the Wilde Creek archives. The pressure behind my ribs told me we were onto something that mattered.
The Hollister house came into view with warm light spilling from the kitchen window. I parked next to Claire's SUV and climbed out, the gravel crunching under my boots.
She opened the door before I reached the porch, her eyes fixed on me like she’d been watching for my truck. “Come in.”
I stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind me. The house still held the faint scent of dust and old wood, but underneath that was something warmer. Maybe it was Claire’s shampoo. Whatever it was, I liked it.
"Tell me everything," I said.
She led me into the kitchen and gestured toward a chair. We both sat and she finally started filling me in.
"My father mentioned a bronc called Bad Habit. He said it changed the course of the Hollister bloodline, and we still have descendants of his on the ranch to this day. There’s got to be a connection, right?” Excitement made her eyes shine bright.
I pulled out my phone, already scrolling to the screenshot I'd taken of Dawson's ledger. "Bad Habit."
Her gaze snapped to mine. "You've seen the name?”
I turned the phone toward her, and she leaned in, her shoulder brushing mine as she studied the screen. The entry was clear: Bad Habit – bay bronc – shared stock, 1912.
"That's him.”
I zoomed in on the notation. The horse had been listed under both Hollister and Kincaid ownership in the same year. Not sold, not transferred, but shared.
"This proves the bloodlines cross," I said. "Dawson's herd doesn't just trace back to Kincaid stock. It traces back to Hollister stock too. Same animal. Same year."
Claire straightened, her breath catching. "So the rodeo problem?—"
