Page 151 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

By the time I dismount, my shirt is sticking to my spine, my gloves are full of dust, and Duke’s laughing as if he didn’t nearly lose a stirrup in front of half the county.

“I saw that,” I say.

He swings down beside me, grin bright and shameless. “Saw what?”

“You know what.”

“Nope.” He pats his horse’s neck. “I was magnificent.”

“You were reckless.”

“Come on, you saw how good I was.”

I give him a look.

He ignores it, obviously, because Duke has been ignoring good sense since birth and calling it charm ever since.

The crowd is still loud behind us, all whistles, clapping, and boots on metal bleachers. The ranch competition has left the grounds buzzing, and Ironwood’s showing was strong enough that people will be talking about it for days.

That matters. Reputation matters. Performance matters. Numbers matter.

Usually, I’d be satisfied by that. Today, I’m distracted.

Because Annie isn’t where she was.

I scan the fence line once, then again more carefully. Vendor row. Chutes. Holding pens. Bleachers. Sponsor banners. Food trucks. Sammy Brooks threatening a volunteer with his clipboard near the announcer’s platform.

No blue hair.

My jaw tightens.

Duke notices immediately because, unfortunately, he’s not as stupid as he pretends to be.

“She was over there a minute ago,” he says, pointing toward the far side of the arena. “Taking photos of Red.”

“I know where she was.”

“Sure you do.”

I ignore the tone and hand my reins to one of the hands. “Find Silas.”

Duke’s grin fades. “Why?”

“Because I don’t see Annie.”

He nods.“I’ll check near the vendors.”

“No. Find Silas first.”

“Cody—”

“Duke.”

He holds my stare for one beat, then nods and moves.

I head toward the back path behind the chutes, keeping my pace controlled because running through a crowd creates attention, and attention creates noise.

Noise creates confusion. Confusion benefits whoever’s already using movement and crowds as cover.