Page 155 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

“Not yet,” Annie says.

All three of us look at her.

She holds her ground. “Not because I don’t want him involved. But because these shots aren’t enough. If we drag the sheriff over here with three blurry photos and a bad feeling, whoever this is gets warned without getting caught.”

Silas doesn’t enjoy that. Neither do I.

Unfortunately, she’s right.

Duke exhales hard and drags a hand through his hair. “I hate when you’re smart in ways that make me not allowed to commit crimes.”

“Growth opportunity,” Annie says.

His mouth almost curves. “Don’t push it, honey.”

For one breath, the four of us stand there in the dust behind the trailers, surrounded by noise, danger, and the strange shape of whatever we are becoming.

Then the crowd erupts again behind us, music kicks louder, somebody whoops.

Somewhere near the vendor row, a child starts crying with the exhausted commitment of someone who’s eaten too much sugar and met the limits of capitalism.

Annie looks toward the grounds, and I see the decision flicker across her face.

Stay afraid. Or stay anyway.

She lifts her camera. “Let’s do this.”

Duke beams. “That sounded like fun surrender.”

“That sounded like I need more photos before Sammy has a stroke.”

Silas steps closer to her. “You stay where we can see you.”

Her eyes flash. “Silas.”

He holds up one hand. “Not control. Request.”

That makes her pause. Then she nods once. “Fine. But if any of you start hovering like weird cowboy gargoyles, I’m taking unflattering pictures.”

Duke gasps. “You wouldn’t.”

“I absolutely would.”

“She would,” I confirm.

Silas looks at me. “You sound certain.”

“I’ve seen her folders.”

Annie points the camera at me and takes a picture.

I blink. “Was that necessary?”

“Yes.”

“Delete it.”

“No.”