I turn to check on Sawyer, who’s guiding the last of the horses back into the safety of the stable.
That’s when I remember. We still have to call the sheriff.
I pull out my phone, my hands a little shaky as I dial. The line rings once, then twice.
“This is Sheriff Miller,” comes the gravelly voice on the other end.
I take a deep breath. “Sheriff, it’s Reid Stone at High Ridge Ranch. We’ve got a problem.”
“I know, Reid. I already sent a team this morning.”
“It’s not about the fire.” I pause, my gaze scanning the wreckage once more. “The place has been ransacked. Broken fences, busted up equipment, and the animals. Some of them are loose. It’s bad, Sheriff. Real bad.”
There’s a long silence before the sheriff responds. “I’ll send a team out right away, Reid. Stay put. Don’t touch anything. We’ll need to assess the scene when we get there.”
“Understood,” I say, my stomach twisted in knots. “Just hurry.”
“I hear you,” Sheriff Miller responds. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
I hang up, but just as the call ends, I hear footsteps approaching. My chest tightens.
Clint.
I don’t know if I’m relieved or terrified to see him.
I turn back to Sawyer, who meets my gaze. Without a word, we both know: This is going to break him.
Clint storms toward us, his face twisted in shock, disbelief, and something darker that I can’t name.
He just stands there, frozen, taking in the wreckage around him. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening, and I can feel the storm building within him.
“This can’t be real.” Clint’s voice cracks. His breath comes in sharp bursts, chest heaving as his gaze flicks from one corner of the ranch to the next. “This can’t be happening.”
I want to go to him, to say something that will make it better. But there’s nothing I can say. Not right now.
Sawyer steps closer. “Clint, we called the sheriff. They’re on their way. We’ve got to hold it together until they get here, okay?”
But Clint isn’t hearing him. He turns toward us, his eyes wild, his voice growing louder, more frantic.
“This ranch is everything to me! It’s my family! Do you know how long I’ve worked for this? How many years I’ve spent building this place up just to have it torn down in one night?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Dakota
The morning feels…twitchy. Like the whole world’s holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Or maybe it’s just me.
I’ve been watching the clock since breakfast, trying to act like I’m not watching the clock.
Spoiler: I’m failing miserably.
Clint said he’d come by around ten. We were gonna head out for the day. His idea, actually.
But now it’s ten-fifteen, and there’s still no knock on the door.
Charlie’s on the floor with his crayons, humming some cowboy song he made up, drawing horses that look like lumpy potatoes with legs.
