Page 35 of The Wrangler and the Tenderfoot

“She’s a PI,” I said.

He didn’t blink. “We figured it was something like that.”

“Not for the Colemans. Not for any of the local players. The Beaumonts still own the Coleman land.”

His eyebrows went up at that revelation. No doubt he hadn’t realized that either.

“The Beaumonts hired her to dig into some suspicious activity the real oil company noticed.”

He processed that for a long second. “You think she’s on us?”

“Yeah.” I chuckled. “About that…” I told him about the footage, the shift that night, the way she’d sat on it instead of turning it over. I told him about the drone, about the evidence. I left out what happened between us at the line shack because it wasn’t relevant to the job. But I felt the heat of it in my neck anyway.

Calder sat back, arms folded. He stared at the edge of the table, jaw working the way it did when he was running something through that he didn’t like, then looked up. “What do you want to do?” he said.

He didn’t ask what we should do. He didn’t ask whether she was a risk or whether he should trust her. He asked what I wanted.

I didn’t have to think. “I want to help her finish this. I want to get the Colemans off the land for good. And I want her safe. That’s it.”

He held my gaze for a beat. “You sure?”

“Yeah, I am, very.”

Calder nodded. That was the Maddox version of a handshake. Once given, it didn’t come back. He said, “Then that’s what we do.”

He didn’t say it like a blessing or a command, just a fact, the only one that mattered in that room. That’s what we’d do.

Chapter 18: Jennie

The next day was a blur of busy work. Everywhere I turned, a Coleman or Coleman hand was up my ass. I couldn’t even get Jupiter saddled. I was starting to suspect they knew I’d found the guns, but when I checked the drone nobody had been there. So I spent the day pretending to read test results on my laptop on the front porch. It was hot, tedious, and so fucking boring.

By four I was done with it. I changed into fresh clothes, dark jeans, clean boots, and a shirt with no visible stains, which was the equivalent of black tie out here, and spent a full minute deciding whether to bring wine. I didn’t, but only because I didn’t have any, and I’d had the idea way too late to drive into town and get some. I gave myself the don't-fuck-this-up talk in the mirror and left.

The drive to the Maddox ranch was fast, too fast, just me and the open road and the knowledge that I was walking into a room where every single person could break me in half if they decided to stop pretending. It was just long enough for me to work myself into a nervous state.

Reid was waiting at the ranch gate on foot, just outside the cattle guard, hands in his pockets. I pulled up, and he opened the door and got in the passenger side before I could park. "This isn’t a formal thing," he said, settling back. He glanced at my boots. "Don’t be nervous."

“They’re terrifying,” I said. “Especially the thought of Midge.”

“She’s honest,” he countered. “But they’re all good people, the best.” He didn’t elaborate but he’d said the important stuff.

I drove up the gravel path and parked with the other trucks. The large limestone house sat at the top of the rise. The porch light was on with the screen door propped open with a chunk of river stone. Something was baking inside, sharp and yeasty, and under it the rich smell of meat that had been stewing for hours.

Inside, the house looked nothing like I'd expected. I'd braced for taxidermy and chipped china, but the great room had soaring beamed ceilings and a limestone fireplace that ran floor to ceiling, and the table filling the dining room was massive reclaimed barn wood, worn smooth from years of use. The table was set for eight, each setting perfectly aligned, napkins folded.

Calder stood at the end of the table, holding a water pitcher. He wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled and the top button undone, forearms corded and tanned. He nodded at me, not a smile, but not the opposite, either. “Jennie,” he said. “I’m Calder. Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for the invite.”

He said nothing more but gestured to a seat at the end. “This is my mate, Tess.”

I hadn’t seen her up close before, just from a distance. She was smaller than I’d guessed, lean, with eyes that seemed to miss nothing. Her hair was up, but a few coppery auburn strands framed her face, and she wore a plain shirt. Her hands were clasped tight in her lap, but her posture was pure dignity.

I took my seat. Tess glanced at me, not quite a smile, but a tilt of her head. She didn’t seem like the type to trust easily.

The blonde, Ash, bounded in from the hallway, a bottle of tequila in each hand, carrying the energy of someone who had invented fun. She wore a tank top that just said FUCK and had three Band-Aids on her right arm. I didn’t realize wolves could need Band-Aids. According to lore, they healed fast. I’d have to ask Reid.

She slid into the chair next to Tess, set the bottles down, and winked at me. “I brought the good stuff,” she said, “because tonight’s gonna be a goddamn circus. Ash Navarro, pleasure to meet you finally.” She held out the bandaid-covered arm, and I shook her hand. Damn, what a grip.