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Harold waited.

“When it quits sitting, you’ve got about four hours to get everything off this ground. That’s my number, and I don’t think you’ll get four hours.” Mac kept his voice level. “I’d stop gathering well before then.”

Harold’s expression didn’t change. “I heard you.”

He climbed into his truck while Mac silently fumed. He had a fourth swear ready but he kept it to himself.

Mom would be proud.

Jodie had heard all of it. “What do you need?”

The same thing Kyle had asked him, the same four words. The same trust in his abilities.

“Count trailers with me now. We need to figure out the capacity.”

“I’ll get my clipboard.” She didn’t ask him anything else.

Mac looked west one more time. The cloud lit from the inside and went dark again.

No thunder. Not yet.

Somebody’s going to have to make the call soon.

TWENTY-THREE

Goblin lay beneath the folding table at her feet, watching the activity through half-closed eyes. He’d jumped into the bed of Mac’s truck that morning while Mac was loading gear at Hank’s and ridden all the way over to the horse pens at Virgil’s before anyone realized he was there.

Jodie nudged his paw with the toe of her boot. He opened one eye, decided she didn’t have any food so she wasn’t interesting enough to move for, and closed it again.

One hundred and seven horses.

That’s how many the BLM rounded up with their damned helicopter that morning. Jodie was so angry she’d gone numb from it. She could hear horses wheezing in the temporary pens, sides heaving after the long run through dust and smoke.

And no rain. Not one damned drop.

The clouds had at least blocked the relentless sun, but the air felt thicker beneath them, smoke pressing lower over the pens.

They knew this was coming.

The BLM knew the fire danger was increasing, but they wanted to clear the land of the horses so badly they’d run the gather anyway, when they didn’t even have the space to house them.

At first light, Harold and Dana had gotten the latest fire report. No evacuation order. The main fire was still west of them. The trigger point Mac had set hadn’t been crossed. The helicopter contractor was ready, and they’d already lost a day.

So the Bureau had tightened the observation areas, cut the number of volunteers near the operation, and sent the helicopter up. And now, they’d just corralled another one hundred and seven wild horses behind steel panels, added to yesterday’s ninety-three.

Two hundred scared, tired horses.

Jodie stared at the pens. Two hundred animals that could have run away from a fire on their own. Now they needed humans, trucks, trailers, roads, and time.

“Jodie?”

She looked over at Willow, who was holding out another sheet.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize.”

Yes, I do. I’m supposed to be paying attention.