Page 64 of Branded

“I had the idea. Sebastian executed it with me.”

“Unbelievable.” But Caroline is smiling now, sharp and impressed. “You snuck onto Marshall land, recovered stolen property and got out clean. That’s… I’m not sure whether to be impressed or furious.”

“Be both,” James suggests. “I am.”

“We need to tell Dad,” Nathaniel says. “He’s been asking Mom about the cattle every time he wakes up. It’s driving her batty sitting there with him asking the same question over and over. This will…” He pauses. “Actually, I’m not sure how he’ll react.”

“Visiting hours start at eight.” Caroline checks her watch. “We’ve got ninety minutes. Everyone, clean up and look presentable. We’re all going to the hospital together.”

“All of us?” Lennox asks.

“Yes. You especially.” Caroline’s smile is dangerous. “You’re the mastermind here. You get to explain to Dad exactly how you pulled this off.”

* * *

County General Hospital is modern and sterile, the complete opposite of the ranch. We file into Dad’s private room. He is propped up in bed, his shoulder heavily bandaged, IV lines running into his good arm.

He looks old in the hospital bed. Diminished. It sends a chill through me.

“About fucking time,” he growls when he sees us. “Been sitting here all night wondering what the hell is happening back home.”

“Dad.” I move to his bedside. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot. How do you think I’m feeling?” But his eyes are sharp, alert. “What’s the situation? The Marshalls make any moves? Our security holding?”

“No moves from the Marshalls. Security’s tight. And—” I glance at Lennox “—we recovered the cattle.”

Dad’s eyebrows shoot up. “All of them?”

“All twenty-three head. Back on our south pastures as of about two hours ago,” I add.

“How the hell did you manage that? I thought they scattered during the ambush.”

“They did. But Lennox figured out a way to get them back.” I gesture for her to step forward. “Why don’t you explain?”

I watch her face pale slightly as all eyes turn to her. Being scrutinized by my family is one thing. Explaining a risky nighttime operation to the wounded patriarch is another.

But she steps up, her voice steady as she lays it out. The theory about Thomas Marshall being distracted. The cattle wanting familiar ground. The quiet approach in darkness. The careful gathering and pushing them home.

Dad listens without interrupting, his expression unreadable.

When she’s done, silence fills the room.

“That was smart,” Dad finally says. “Risky as hell, but smart. You read the situation correctly, anticipated their response, exploited their weakness.” He studies her. “Where’d you learn to think tactically like that?”

“My father. He always said the best offense is making your opponent think they’ve already won while you’re actually taking back what’s yours.”

“Warren taught you well.” Dad’s eyes cut to me. “And you went with her? Just the two of you?”

“Yes.”

“Could have been another ambush. Could have been a trap.”

“It wasn’t. Lennox was right about the timing.”

Dad is quiet for a long moment, and I see something shift in his expression. Calculation. Suspicion.

“Convenient,” he says quietly. “That you knew exactly when the Marshall crew would be distracted. Exactly where our cattle would be. Exactly how to recover them without incident.”