Page 12 of July’s Cowboy Dallas

Holt stood. “Then maybe we should talk about what you think you found.”

“Forged certifications. Mismatched brands. Animals that shouldn't have been cleared.” I kept my voice level. “Someone used our name to move bad stock, and I want to know who.”

“You're turning questions into accusations.”

“I'm reading what's in front of me.”

Roy swung his boots off the desk and leaned back in his chair. “You know what happens when this town gets a scent of Hollister trouble. Kincaids start circling like sharks.”

“This isn't about the Kincaids.”

“Everything's about the Kincaids when it comes to rodeo stock.” Roy's voice stayed easy, like he wasn’t personally involved. “You start pulling animals and filing complaints, people are going to think you're trying to start something.”

“I'm trying to keep people safe.”

Holt circled the desk, moving closer, filling the space until it felt smaller.

“There are ways to handle family business without dragging it through the arena dirt,” he said. “You need to think carefully about what you're putting your name on.”

“I'm not putting my name on anything I haven't verified.”

“You're making this bigger than it needs to be.”

“Someone forged veterinary certifications and swapped animals using our name. That's already big.”

“We don't know that.”

“We know enough.”

Roy stood, brushing dust off his jeans. “Maybe you're reacting a little emotionally here. It's understandable. Feud tensions are running high thanks to your brother taking up with that Kincaid girl.”

Heat flared in my chest.

Before I could answer, Dallas spoke.

“She's not guessing.” His voice was quiet, steady. “She's reading what's in front of her.”

Holt's gaze cut to him. “You're not part of this family, Dallas.”

“No, sir.” Dallas didn't flinch. “But I know how she works.”

The trust in those words hit me harder than I wanted to admit. Four words, and something in me wanted to cross the room and stand close enough to feel the warmth coming off him. I stayed exactly where I was.

Holt's expression didn't change, but the tension in the air felt thicker. He looked at me again, and I saw the calculation behind his eyes. He was weighing the risk and trying to decide if I was an asset or a liability.

“We'll look into it,” he said. “Quietly.”

“I'm not clearing unsafe stock.”

“No one's asking you to.”

“And I'm not pretending forged paperwork is a misunderstanding.”

Holt's jaw worked. “If you want to protect this family, Sadie, you need to be smart about how you do it.”

“The animals don't care whose name is on the trailer.” He was asking me to waltz past a line I couldn't cross.

Holt stared at me for a long moment. Then he picked up his coffee and took a slow sip.