Page 188

“Don’t waste daylight arguing money before coffee.”

“I’m not letting you carry—”

“You aren’t letting me do anything.” His eyes went to the arena again. “You want the brindle bull in pen three or five? Three puts him close to the left-hand delivery lane. Five gives more clearance off the back rail.”

It wasn’t a trick question. It was work. He expected an answer from me because I was the man running the event. “Five,” I said. “He turns left when he’s fresh.”

“Usually.”

He walked back toward the trailer without another word.

Something moved under my ribs.

Ty had treated me as a professional peer on the circuit. Then I’d come home and gone back to being Kid, Cash, the one with a grin and a contact list and no signing authority. I’d spent the summer fighting it, mostly by talking louder.

Now Ty had handed me the insurance and asked where I wanted the bull. No speech. No pat on the shoulder. Work. Trust wearing boots.

Priya was reading the certificate over my arm. Her hair brushed my jaw.

“This fixes livestock liability,” she said. “If the ranch’s event rider is active and the county accepts Bannerman as contractor of record, then—”

A county sedan turned into the drive.

I started laughing.

Priya looked at me. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That is not a nothing laugh.”

“Just enjoying the parade.”

The sedan came up slow, avoiding the deeper ruts. Dena Fry sat behind the wheel in her cardigan and county lanyard, both hands properly placed, her expression apologetic before she’d even parked.

She got out with a document envelope held against her chest.

“Ms. Nair,” she called.

“Mrs. Fry.”

Dena looked around the yard: Earl and Tuck unloading panels badly, Doc directing them despite being there for a completely different reason, Ty reversing his stock trailer toward the barn, and me standing in yesterday’s shirt with my hair doing whatever it pleased.

“I thought it would be faster to bring these,” Dena said.

She came to us and opened the envelope.

“The county accepted Bannerman Rodeo Company’s certificate at six forty this morning. Carrow Creek’s event rider was already active, as you stated in the amendment filing. I’ve added the livestock contractor, veterinary coverage, and revised south barrier plan.”

She held out a stamped packet.

Priya didn’t take it.

Her hand moved. Stopped.

Dena noticed. The two women stood facing each other with the paperwork between them and the whole summer sitting inside the gesture.

“I brought two certified copies,” Dena said. “One for the ranch office. One for the event desk.”