“We don’t do anything, Liza. Except call your father and get things in the works to sell the ranch.”
“Sell the ranch?” My voice catches in my throat.
“Liza, you know there’s nothing I won’t do for you. But this? This I haven’t seen in God knows how long. And I don’t want toeversee it again. I’m too old for this. And you? You’re too innocent and sweet for it.”
“I can handle?—”
He shakes his head emphatically. “Your dad couldn’t handle it. What do you think drove him and your mom into earlyretirement? What do you think gave him pause when it was time to divvy up the land?”
“Frank—”
“It won’t stop at one bull or even one herd. You can lose a whole year’s livelihood in one dangerous night of mountain activity.”
I shake my head, not wanting to hear his words. My mount, Daisy, neighs as if coming to my defense, tail swatting at the relentless flies.
“Stick to your horses and the café like you promised your dad. Out here, cattle’s trouble unless you live over at the Reyes Ranch or Ash’s place, consecrated land.”
“Old wives’ tales,” I say with a grimace.
“Old Mags’s tales,” he counters. “Either way, I’m done.”
The words fall heavy. Heavier than they should.
“You can’t just walk away from this, Frank.”
“Not leaving. Making a statement,” he says, setting his jaw and sitting straighter in the saddle. “Only way to drill some sense into you.”
“Tough love,” I huff a laugh. “Don’t give me that. I need a ranch hand, not a therapist.”
“You need to stayoutof the cattle business. Unless you’ve curried favor with the elders. Them’s the only ones who can work this land successfully.”
“The elders,” I snort. “You mean, the mythic Wildbloods.”
“Exactly,” he grumbles.
We climb a hill, then look down on verdant fields of alfalfa. My stomach drops again. Daisy hesitates beneath me.
I shield my eyes with my hand, transfixed by it again. The symbol in the field. A perfectly formed crop circle. “What didthat?”
Frank shrugs, fear hiding behind his gaze. “Shafts perfectly bent, not broken. Would love to say it’s a practical joke. Highschoolers over from Raven’s Ridge having too much fun. But I don’t know.”
“It almost looks like language,” I say, my voice thinning. Like something trying to be understood. “Thought after a week the crops would straighten, grow normal again.”
Frank cocks his head to the side. “Stocks’ll come back. They always do. Consider it a warning. Like the bull.” His eyes meet mine, swirling with fear and concern. “Stick to horses, Liza. And keep them well-stabled at night. You’ll save yourself a world of hurt.”
Chapter
Three
ELIZA
“There are two men in the dining room asking for you,” Lesley whispers as she passes me in the kitchen the next morning.
I eye my watch, sighing slowly. Barely six A.M. after a restless night of dreams so vivid they still put a chill through my flesh. The kind of night that had me convinced I’d find more symbols in the fields today. And something else… something I can’t name, still lingering beneath my skin.
Luckily, the only thing crawling across the shadowy blue-tinted grass was the gold-tipped fingers of dawn.
I straighten my apron, grab a pot of steaming coffee, and slap on my cheeriest smile. “Hope they’re good tippers,” I say, then walk past.
