Page 67 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

But if that’s all this is, I can’t figure out why I’m still looking.

By the time Annie and I make it back to the town center, dusk has settled over the valley.

The rodeo grounds are still buzzing behind us as we head into town, headlights stretching across the highway while trucks and trailers peel off in every direction.

Even with the windows rolled up, I can hear bursts of music and laughter carrying across the parking lots as people squeeze every last minute out of the evening.

My entire body feels pleasantly worn out.

It’s the kind of exhaustion that comes from spending a day doing exactly what you love and realizing hours have disappeared without you noticing.

The Silver Bit is already packed when we walk in.

Country music pours from the speakers and every table seems occupied. A few riders are clustered near the bar reliving runs that get more impressive with each retelling.

The scent of fried food, beer, and dust-covered boots hangs over the room in a way that probably shouldn’t be appealing but somehow is.

And despite the crowd, I spot them.

Willy is perched on a barstool near the back, talking with enough enthusiasm to entertain half the room. Wyatt sits beside him nursing a beer and looking like he’s reconsidering several life choices.

Emmett occupies a chair nearby while Sadie bounces between conversations, apparently unwilling to remain in one location longer than thirty seconds.

Red leans against the bar with a bottle in one hand, listening to whatever story Willy is currently turning into a dramatic production.

“Arizona!”

Sadie spots me before I make it three steps into the room. She barrels across the floor at alarming speed.

I barely manage to catch her before she crashes into me hard enough to send us both into a nearby table. “Well, hello to you too.”

“I wasn’t stealing fries.”

I blink. “That’s a very specific thing to say before anyone accuses you of anything.”

Sadie presses both hands to her hips. “I wasn’t.”

Across the table, Emmett closes his eyes. “She absolutely stole fries.”

“Supposebly,” Sadie corrects.

“You had ketchup on your face.”

“Allegedly.”

Willy nearly falls off his stool laughing. “I love this kid.”

“That’s because you encourage her,” Emmett says.

“I encourage creativity.”

Emmett rolls his eyes. “You taught her the word ‘allegedly.’”

“And look how responsibly she’s using it.”

All I can think about is the man from the rodeo.

“Hey.”