Ryder picked it up. It was warm from the boy’s hand.
He looked at the driveway. He looked at the dust. He thought about the red boots. He thought about the eyes.
My mom hates that guy on the TV.
A strange, cold sensation started in the pit of Ryder’s stomach and began to spread. It wasn't pain. It was suspicion.
Why was she so terrified? Why had she acted like he was trying to kidnap the kid, when all he had done was teach him how a bull bucks?
You are the most dangerous thing in his life.
Ryder gripped the plastic toy. He squeezed it until the hard plastic dug into his palm.
Something didn't add up. The math was wrong. Elena Rosales wasn't a hysterical person. She was science and logic.
Unless the variable was something she couldn't control.
He looked at the bull again. A little cowboy, wanting to know how the ride worked. A little boy whose dad was "traveling."
The cold sensation reached his heart.
No,Ryder thought.That’s impossible. I would have known.
But would he? He had left. He had changed his number. He had spent six years dodging calls from everyone in Stone Creek.
He looked up at the horizon, where the sun was starting to dip below the mountains.
The boredom was gone. The pain in his leg was gone.
It was replaced by a single, burning question that he knew, with a sickening certainty, was going to change everything.
IV. The Sheriff
The dust from Elena’s car hadn’t even settled when Cole’s truck rolled into the yard.
He parked next to the porch. He got out slowly, removing his work gloves, his eyes scanning the scene. He saw the skid marks in the gravel where Elena had peeled out. He saw Ryder sitting on the swing, holding a small black object, looking like he had just seen a ghost.
Cole walked up the steps. His boots were heavy, authoritative. The boots of the owner.
"What did you do?" Cole asked. It was a flat, exhausted question.
Ryder looked up. He spun the plastic bull in his fingers.
"I didn't do anything," Ryder said. "I sat here. A kid walked up. We talked about bulls. Then Elena showed up and acted like I was trying to feed him to a coyote."
Cole stopped at the top of the stairs. He looked at the tire tracks. He let out a long sigh through his nose.
"She’s protective, Ryder. You know that."
"That wasn't protective," Ryder corrected. "That was panic. She looked at me like I was a disease."
Ryder leaned forward, the swing chains creaking.
"Who is the kid, Cole?"
Cole didn't flinch. He walked over to the railing and leaned against it, looking out at the new cabins on the ridge.
"His name is Leo," Cole said.
