Page 6 of July’s Cowboy Dallas

“Or copied.” I sat down hard in the desk chair, the reality of what I was looking at rushing over me like an ice-cold tidal wave. “Someone forged these. All of them.”

Dallas didn't argue. That was one of the things I appreciated about him. He took me seriously, not like the men in my family who had a habit of questioning my judgement and downplaying my concerns. Dallas just stood there, looking at the pages, his hands flat on the edge of the desk, knuckles pale.

He had strong hands. I'd watched them gentle a thousand-pound animal down from panic and never once wondered what they'd feel like roaming over my skin until right now, which was exactly the wrong moment to start.

The door to the stock office opened behind us, and I turned to see Mayor Nelson stepping in, his shirt damp with sweat and his face flushed from the heat. He pulled his hat off and ran a hand through his thinning hair.

“Sadie. Dallas. Everything all right? I heard there was some trouble with the stock.”

I sighed, knowing the bigger this got, the worse it would be for the town. “We pulled an animal for lameness. I'm checking the rest of the Hollister entries now.”

“Good, good. Better safe than sorry, especially this close to the event.” He glanced at the folders spread across the desk, then back at me. “Do you need security to keep an eye on anything overnight? I can make some calls.”

“That might not be a bad idea.” Dallas leaned forward and rested his hand on the desk.

Orville nodded. “Braxton James would be my first call, but he's in Bozeman handling security for another rodeo event until August.” He settled his hat back on his head, the edges of his mouth tightening with concern. “I'll see who else I can pull in for now.”

He left, and I turned back to the certifications.

Dallas moved closer, his voice low. “If these are forged, someone had access to blank certification forms. And they knew enough about the process to make them look legitimate.”

“Which means someone with veterinary knowledge. Or access to someone who has it.” I stared at the signatures, a knot pulling tight behind my ribs. “And they were careful. They didn't use the same vet for all of them. They spread it out. Made it look routine.”

“Until you pulled one animal and started checking the rest.” Dallas lifted his hand, and for a second, I thought he was going to rest it on my shoulder. He didn't. It settled back on the edge of the desk instead, an inch from mine, and the almost of it hummed against my skin worse than the touch would have.

It would be so easy to close that inch. To turn toward him and bury my cheek against his chest and let someone else be in charge for a few minutes.

I wasn't about to do that.

“Yeah.” I reached for one of the certificates, putting the paperwork between us where it belonged.

This wasn't a paperwork error or an innocent mistake. Someone had falsified veterinary certifications on purpose, swapped animals between registered stock, and brought them onto the Mustang Mountain rodeo grounds three days before the biggest event of the summer. And they'd done it using the Hollister name.

I looked at Dallas, and he looked back, and I saw the same calculation in his eyes I felt in my chest. This was bigger than one lame steer. Bigger than a few mismatched brands.

This was deliberate.

And someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make sure it stayed hidden.

“Where do I start?” I didn't need him to fight my battles for me, but I trusted his opinion.

Dallas was quiet for a moment. Then he reached across the desk and tapped the edge of one of the certification pages.

“I say we start with who had access to the forms,” he said. “And why they needed them.”

“You don't have to get involved. This is a Hollister problem.”

“Your problems are my problems, Sadie.” His eyes locked onto mine, and something moved behind them—something he shut down almost as fast as I caught it.

It was a nice thing to say. Friends said things like that. So why was my pulse jacking up like he'd just volunteered to save me?

He had his own reputation to worry about, and I wasn't about to drag him into something that might cause him any harm. But I'd worry about that when the time came. At the moment, I had a bigger issue to face. Someone had used the Hollister name to hide a crime.

And I was starting to think they'd expected me to help bury it.

CHAPTER 3

DALLAS