Page 7 of July’s Cowboy Dallas

Sadie tucked the folders under her arm and squared her shoulders like she was about to enter the ring with a world heavyweight champion. I knew that look. I'd seen it when a rancher questioned her call on delivering a breech calf, and also every time one of the Hollister men talked over her or downplayed her advice.

I wanted to reach out and touch her. To brush the hair away from her forehead or pull her into my arms and tell her she didn't have to handle this alone.

Knowing Sadie, she'd think that was my way of telling her she couldn't handle this mess. She needed me to be steady, not coddle her.

So I did what I'd been doing for years. I kept my hands to myself and buried the feelings I wasn’t allowed to have.

“Let's find Cody,” she said. “I want to see what he remembers about the intake process.”

I nodded and followed her out of the stock office into the late afternoon heat.

The rodeo grounds felt different. Not dangerous exactly, but watchful, like everyone was on edge and waiting to see what cracked first.

The Fourth of July event was three days out, and the entire town had shown up to help. Vendors stretched canvas over metal frames, arguing about which side faced the sun. A teenager dragged a coil of bunting across the dirt, trailing red and blue fabric in his wake. Someone tested the announcer mic and feedback shrieked through the speakers before it cut off with a sharp pop.

Horses shifted in the pens, their tails swishing at persistent flies. The air smelled like dust and hay and fried dough from the funnel cake food truck that had rolled in early to claim the prime spot near the main gate.

People moved through it all with the kind of practiced chaos that came from doing this multiple times a season all over the state of Montana, but I felt their eyes on us, especially on Sadie.

A woman carrying a stack of programs glanced over, her expression shifting from neutral to curious the second she saw the folders under Sadie's arm. Two men unloading barrels paused mid-lift, watching us pass.

Some looked at her with respect. Others just wanted a good story to tell later.

And some were already wondering why Hollister stock was being questioned.

That was the real pressure. Not Holt. Not the forged certifications. The town was watching.

Sadie kept her chin up and her stride even, but the tension crackled in the air around her.

We passed the main arena, where her brother Tanner stood near the gate talking to Waverly Kincaid. Waverly had her arms crossed, her green eyes sharp as she listened to whatever Tanner was saying. He looked calm, the way he always did, but there was tension in his shoulders. Maybe because the town hadn’t quite figured out what to make of the two of them getting together.

Waverly caught sight of us and lifted her chin in acknowledgment. Tanner turned, his gaze settling on Sadie for a long beat.

He didn't call her over, but the way his brows arched meant he was aware there was something going on.

Sadie kept walking.

Near the holding pens, we found Cody Briggs checking water troughs, his hat pulled low against the sun. He straightened when he saw us coming and wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Sadie. Dallas.” He glanced at the folders, then back at her face. “I heard you pulled a steer.”

“He was lame,” Sadie said. “It was an old injury that somehow got overlooked. I'm checking the rest of the Hollister entries now.”

Cody's expression didn't change, but his shoulders pulled in half an inch. If he was in on this, I'd get it out of him one way or another.

“Need something from me?”

“The intake logs,” Sadie said. “I want to see what came in on which trailer.”

Cody hesitated. Then he nodded toward the stock barn. “They're in the office. But you already know what came in. Hollister stock, Kincaid stock, a few independent entries.”

“Who handled the Hollister unload?”

“Pritchard ran the gates and Holt told him where to put them all.” Cody's gaze slid toward the trailers parked along the far fence. “Some of the stock went into the north pens. The rest went to holding.”

“Did Holt say why he wanted certain animals separated?”

Cody went quiet.