The ranch came into view under a pale sky that couldn’t decide between flurries or nothing at all. Smoke drifted from the chimney. I parked by the barn, killed the engine, and listened to the quiet that follows answers you didn’t want.
Milly’s voice carried from inside—steady, coaxing, talking to one of the horses. I followed the sound, the smell of hay and iodine greeting me. She stood by the supply crate, sleeves rolled, curls loose from her braid. Light pooled around her shoulders like she was part of the barn’s dust and sun.
“Busy?” I asked.
“Always,” she said without looking up. “Find anything in town?”
“Enough.” I held up the yellow slip. “Carl’s records show a sale back in August. Cash, no ID. He wrote the name himself—Harold Thomas.”
Her hand stilled on the crate. “My uncle.”
“Yeah. Carl said he looked nervous. He thinks Harold’s been hanging around the Hollow again.”
She straightened, eyes wide but composed. “So he’s the one sending things?”
“Looks like it. And Palmer’s digging into a renewed P.O. box under the same name. Someone walked into the Hollow post office last month and paid cash for it.”
Milly stared at the receipt, her thumb tracing the edge. “I thought he was gone. Penny cut ties years ago.”
“She did. For good reason.” I hesitated, scraping my boots against the floor, the words heavier than the air. “There’s something else. That night on the porch—you heard part of my call with Reaper.” I waited for her reaction, and shepaused, listening intently. “You thought I said you were just an assignment.”
Her gaze flicked up, guarded.
“I didn’t,” I said quietly. “Reaper was teasing me—calling me out for breaking rules, for falling for the person I was supposed to protect. I told him I’d already crossed that line.”
The breath she took trembled a little. “All I heard was your voice go hard when he laughed. I thought he was right.”
“I should’ve cleared it up then. But I meant what I said: I love you. If that costs me this job—or whatever’s left of Penny’s estate—so be it.”
The mare snorted softly, as if agreeing. Milly’s eyes glistened but held steady. She reached across the crate and took my hand. Her fingers were cold from the morning, strong beneath the chill.
“I don’t care about the inheritance, Austin,” she said. “Penny may have left me the ranch as part of her legacy, but I’ve found that her real legacy was you, this town, and bringing us all together.”
“Then we restart. Reinforce what we have and rebuild what is broken.” A weight I’d held since I messed up eased off my shoulders. Communication was not my strong suit, but I was learning.
We spent the next hour piecing together a plan. I called Palmer, gave him Carl’s lead; he promised to pull records from Red Hollow. Milly labeled our notes in careful print, her calm steadying the adrenaline running through me. By dusk, the house smelled of roast and pie—a scent that grounded us both. Mason checked the cameras, Levi promised extra patrols, and Cassie texted a simple, “If you two need anything, I’m around.”
When the last truck left the drive, Milly joined me on the porch. The boards creaked under our weight; the air carriedpine. The valley beyond the ranch had already gone to blue shadow, the mountains holding the last light.
She leaned her shoulder against mine. “Feels like the world’s waiting for something.”
“Maybe it’s waiting to see if we blink first.”
We stood there until the stars pricked through the twilight sky. A coyote called to its brothers, answered by another farther off. Montana was alive and holding its breath.
Milly’s hand found mine again. “Whatever comes next,” she said, “we face it standing.”
“Together,” I said.
The horizon burned red before fading to night. I looked at her, at the compass glinting faintly against her throat.
Love is fighting when it’s easier to run. And if my job is the price, I’ll pay it every time.
Chapter 19
The Penny Drops
Milly
