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“Harold clear.”

She pulled the sheet toward her and wrote it in under Virgil’s line, the same way she wrote everything else. HAROLD — BLM CH — SOUTH ACCESS — NO SIGHTING and the time.

She changed channels.

“Kyle, Jodie⁠—”

“—need trailer four moved forward now, repeat, four forward⁠—”

The transmission swallowed her whole.

She released the button, waited, then tried again.

“Kyle, Jodie.”

A burst of static. Somebody called for Dana. Another voice answered from somewhere farther up the access road, broken badly enough that Jodie caught only every third word.

She lowered the radio. The Basin had been doing this to them for days. Hills, draws, distance, everything conspired to make communication difficult.

She looked at the board again. For the first time since Watchdog arrived, the numbers were finally moving in the right direction. And right in the middle of all that progress was one empty box.

Virgil hadn’t come back.

She found Willow near the far side of the holding pens, helping one of the volunteers carry water toward the quarantine area. Jodie glanced toward the access road. Kyle was still directing traffic. Ben had gone with Mac. Every Watchdog driver she could see was attached to a truck or trailer that needed to keep moving. Harold had said he’d swing north when he was done. She could call him back and ask him to go now.

The thought lasted about half a second.

It’s probably nothing. Don’t turn it into one more thing he has to deal with.

Virgil knew his own land. His guy was supposed to be meeting him. Maybe they’d gotten the cattle moving and his radio was dead in a draw. Maybe he was fixing something else while he was there because Virgil was constitutionally incapable of passing a problem without stopping to insult it and then solve it.

She just needed to put eyes on him.

“Hey, Willow? I’m going to check on Virgil.”

Willow frowned. “How? Mac took the truck.”

“I’ll figure it out.”

“Take mine.” She fished in her pocket. “Here’s my keys.”

“You sure?”

“I’m not going anywhere until every horse is safe.”

That settled it. Jodie took the keys and went back to the board. She found an empty line and wrote the same way she’d been writing everyone else all day.

JODIE — WILLOW’S TRUCK — NORTH FENCE — CHECK VIRGIL

Then she put in her departure time. She put the marker down, tucked her phone into her back pocket, and checked the battery on the handheld. Water. Bandana. Nothing else. She wasn’t heading into the backcountry for a search. She was driving out to make sure a stubborn sixty-something rancher hadn’t gotten himself hurt cutting fence.

Goblin crawled out from beneath the table when she picked up Willow’s keys.

“You stay here.”

He watched her.

“Seriously.”