The owner tallied the total and bagged everything with the efficiency of someone who’d done it a million times. I paid in cash, pocketed the change, and loaded up the cart again.
Outside, the wind was sharp enough to make your teeth hurt. Jojo’s arms were full, cradling the eggs and coffee like contraband. He stopped at the truck, then startled as a shadow crossed the sidewalk behind us.
A man in a tan uniform, broad-shouldered and soft-bellied, leaned against the post outside the store. The badge caught the light, the gold star as bright as a warning flare.
He was taller than I expected, with hands too big for his own wrists and the kind of mustache that only small-town sheriffs wore without irony.
He gave me a slow once-over. “You the new hand at the old Steele place?”
I locked eyes with him, matching his stillness. “I’m the owner. Rawley Steele.”
He looked me up and down. “Sheriff Calloway. Welcome to Black Butte.”
Jojo edged behind me, his arms tightening on the bags.
“You getting settled okay?” the sheriff asked, voice casual, but a shade too careful.
“We’re getting there,” I said. “Just fixing fences, getting the power on.”
His gaze flicked from me to Jojo. “You got all you need, Joseph?”
Jojo swallowed, voice barely audible. “I’m good, sir.”
“Glad to hear it.” The sheriff’s eyes never left me. “You run cattle or are you planning something else?”
“Cattle, eventually. Mustangs, too. Whatever the land will support.”
He nodded, slow. “We don’t get a lot of new faces this time of year. The old families like to keep track of who comes and goes.”
“Duly noted.”
He let the silence linger. “You ever have trouble out there, you call me. Or anything… unusual.”
I gave him a tight smile. “Noted.”
He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card, held it between two fingers like a dealer on the last hand of the night. “Just in case. You never know.”
I took it, tucked it into my wallet without looking. “Thanks.”
He stepped back, still watching. “You boys take care. Coyotes been thick on the east side lately. And the mountain lions are hungry.”
“We’ll be careful.”
He tipped his hat, then walked off with a rolling, heavy stride, boots loud on the wooden planks.
Jojo let out a breath I didn’t know he’d been holding. “He scares the shit out of me.”
“He’s harmless,” I said. “But he’s watching, so let’s keep our heads down.”
We loaded the bags in the bed of the truck, then climbed in, the heat from the cab instantly clouding the windows.
I looked at Jojo. He stared straight ahead, knuckles white on the seat belt. “You okay?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Just… not used to people noticing me.”
“Get used to it,” I said, starting the engine. “You’re with me now. People will notice.”
He looked at me, eyes wide. “That a threat or a promise?”
