"Be careful out there," she said softly. "All of you."
"We will."
She squeezed my arm once, then moved on—distributing coffee and biscuits to the crew, doing the work she'd done for forty years.
"Maggie." Wyatt materialized at my elbow with a clipboard that probably contained seventeen contingency plans. "We need to go over the approach. Dad and I mapped the likely bedding area based on the trail camera footage and the damage patterns Jack identified?—"
"I know the plan, Wyatt. I was in the room when you made it."
He ignored me. "If we find the sounder and they scatter, nobody chases into the brush alone?—"
"Radio check every fifteen, rally point at the old Miller fence line, three shots rapid for an emergency." I folded my arms. "I know."
That muscle in his cheek jumped—the one that meant he was working very hard not to say something he'd regret.
"I just want everyone on the same page."
"We are. Relax."
"This isn't?—"
"Wyatt." I dropped my voice. "I've been riding this land just as long as you. I know every creek bed, every draw, every place a sounder might hole up. I'll be fine."
Something flickered behind his expression. The big brother under the ranch manager. In practice, the protectiveness made me want to throw things at his head. And the only reason I didn’t was because it made me happy to know he cared about my safety, even if it drove me nuts the way he showed it.
"Just stay in the middle of the group," he said quietly.
"Because it makes tactical sense," I said. "Not because you asked."
He almost smiled. Almost. "Fine. If the situation changes?—"
"We reassess. No heroes. Just the job." I squeezed his arm. "Go check your rifles again. I know you want to."
He moved off looking slightly less wound up.
Daddy caught my eye from across the barn and gave me a small nod. Well handled.
Clay appeared at my shoulder. "That was impressive. You managed a whole Wyatt conversation without anyone raising their voice."
"It's too early for yelling. Give it an hour."
"Fair." He adjusted his hat—still crooked—and glanced toward where Jack was saddling up. "Your ranch hand looks like he's done this before."
I kept my expression neutral. "He's experienced.”
Clay's grin was slow and knowing. "Mm-hm."
I leveled him with a look. "Don't you have cattle to move?"
"Trying to get rid of me already?"
“Desperately. I’ve got shit to do.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckled and wandered off toward the south pens, whistling.
I was going to kill him. Eventually. When there were fewer witnesses.
Ivy caught my arm near the barn doors. "Be careful," she said quietly. "All of you."
