Page 163 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

“I figured breakfast got forgotten,” she says.

I accept the cup. “Thank you.”

Her attention moves over the trailers beside the barn. “How long have you been checking these?”

“Long enough to know both brake lights still work.”

The amusement fades from her face as she studies the equipment. “Do you think Travis will try anything tomorrow?”

“I’d be surprised if he didn’t.”

The answer wipes away what remains of her smile because a crowded rodeo gives Travis the audience he wants, along with plenty of ways to hurt Red and everyone connected to him.

Red whistles from across the yard before we can say more. “Inside in five.”

Arizona falls into step beside me as we cross toward the house. Everyone moves differently now, checking doors before walking away and watching the tree line whenever a vehicle slows near the ranch.

Nobody talks about it around Sadie, but every person here knows Travis is still out there—and Beau gave him access to places he never should have reached.

Sheriff Hank Miller sits at the kitchen table when we enter, a folder open in front of him and his hat resting near the security plans.

“We’ll have deputies covering the entrances,” he says once we gather around him. “There’ll be patrols overnight, officers near the chutes, and another team watching the parking areas through the finals.”

Red folds his arms. “Any sign of Mercer?”

“We’re following two reports from neighboring towns, but neither one has put him in Colter Creek.”

“He’ll be here,” Red says. “He didn’t spend weeks tearing into this ranch so he could miss the finish.”

Arizona braces her hands on the table. “Then I stay close to you.”

Red turns toward her. “You stay with one of us all day.”

“I was already planning to.”

“I need you to take this seriously.”

Her gaze holds his. “I am.”

Hank taps the security map before their argument can grow. “Everyone stays with a partner, checks in before changing locations, and calls me if anything looks wrong. Nobody follows a hunch alone.”

His eyes settle on Arizona as he finishes.

She raises her brows. “You can look at Willy too.”

Willy takes a drink from his coffee. “I’m offended that you think I’d ignore professional advice.”

Hank glances at the fading bruise along Willy’s jaw. “You climbed into a stock pen last month because you thought a bull looked lonely.”

“He did.”

Hank turns back to the map without answering, which ends the discussion faster than Red could have managed.

He assigns each of us an area of the rodeo grounds and marks the locations where deputies will stay through the finals. I follow every instruction, but part of my attention remains fixed on the risk nobody can map.

Travis knows the rodeo circuit, understands how Red reacts under pressure, and has already proven he’ll hurt anyone standing nearby to get what he wants.

By tomorrow evening, the arena will be packed, Sadie will be watching from the stands, and Arizona will be moving between the performance area and the chutes.