When we get there, I see it right away. The damage is worse than I thought. One section of the fence is completely down, posts shattered like they were snapped in half by a sledgehammer.
There’s no way this happened naturally.
Clint’s already crouched by the broken posts, running his hand over the splintered wood. He mutters under his breath.
“This isn’t from the storm. Not like this.”
I walk over, studying it, making quick calculations in my head.
“Someone did this.” It’s obvious. No point in pretending otherwise. “But who?”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” he says, rough with the tension in his chest. “Could be kids… but I don’t know. This feels… too deliberate.”
I cross my arms, squinting at the damage again. Kids messing around would’ve been more careless. This? This looks methodical.
“Could be,” I say, though not convinced. “But there’s not a whole lot of kids around here anymore. What about rival ranchers?”
Clint rubs the back of his neck, eyes narrowing.
“Maybe. But we’ve got a good relationship with the other ranches. Willow, Ironwood, Dusty Spur. They’d never do something like this. But there are others, I suppose…”
My jaw clenches. “I don’t like thinking that way, but we can’t rule anything out.”
Clint looks out across the field, the quiet rolling hills of the west side now tainted by the destruction. “What if it’s not kids or another rancher? What if it’s someone else entirely?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Who?”
Clint’s expression darkens. “Hell if I know. But think about it: someone with a vested interest in pushing the ranch to sell. Someone who stands to gain if we’re cornered.”
“That’s the worst possibility of all. Let’s not jump to conclusions just yet.” I hold my hands up in a calming gesture, knowing Clint’s temper can get the best of him when it comes to the ranch. “For now, I think we should focus on fixing this. Then we can work out who’s behind it all.”
“I’ll walk the fence line,” Clint replies with a sigh. “You want to get Reid? All hands on deck.”
I nod and turn on my heels as my thoughts race at a million miles an hour. This is a cost High Ridge Ranch really doesn’t need at the moment.
Things haven’t been good for a while now, and I don’t think it’s just the economy affecting our cattle sales. Although I don’t know what the true reason is.
Trust me, I’ve been trying to figure it out.
“Hey, Reid.” I find him stroking his favorite cow, Betsy, with a smile on his face. “We need your help.”
“Huh? You do?” He meets my eyes. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve got damage on the west side of the fence line. Need your help fixing it up.”
Reid’s eyes light up with mischief. “Oh, damn. The storm?”
“Definitely not. Fencing’s torn down, posts busted like someone took a sledgehammer to it. I need your help with the wire.”
Reid pushes off the hay bale and heads toward me, grabbing a tool belt from the ground. “Sounds like fun. And I’m guessing Clint’s… not impressed.”
I give him a look. “He’s pissed, that’s for sure.”
Reid’s grin fades just a little. “Yeah, I thought as much. Don’t worry. We’ll fix it up.”
We walk quickly toward the west side of the ranch. Clint’s already off, walking the fence line alone.
His figure is distant, head lowered as he inspects the damage. The tension in his shoulders is hard to miss, and I can’t help but feel it myself.
