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A few folded tents and camp tables had been unloaded near the pasture. Coolers and plastic bins were stacked beside the barn. Nobody had gotten far enough to make the place look established yet. Jodie checked the time. They were early. Not Willow-early, apparently, but respectable.

Good.

Sandra spotted them first and waved from beside the barn, camera hanging against her chest. Jodie opened the passenger door and climbed out, water bottle in hand. More vehicles were already coming down the road behind them.

“I’m going to go talk to Sandra,” Jodie told Mac. “Wait for me to help you with the tent.”

“I’ve got it, Jodie. Take your time.”

She looked up at the sun. It hadn’t reached the middle of the sky yet, but the temps were climbing fast and there was zero shade out here.

“Maybe you can find Hank and ask him if he knows anything about Virgil.” She gave him a smile.

“After I get the tent up.” He opened the tailgate.

“Just wait for me, okay?”

Mac stopped cold. “Jodie. I’ve got this.”

Shit. He’s mad, I can tell.

“Okay, well, there’s more water in the cooler, and that second cooler has ice. I made sure the pop-up was packed on top of the tent so you can get into the shade⁠—”

“Go. Talk. To. Sandra.”

Whoops. All that Canadian Niceness has taken off to the Great White North.

And she couldn’t blame him. She was one hundred percent guilty of mother-henning him.

Jodie blew out a breath. “Wilco.” She turned to walk away.

“Hey, Jodie?”

She stopped and looked back at Mac. “Yeah?”

“Sorry. Thanks for the water.” He gave her that Woody-at-Cheers smile that always got her.

“No problem.” She smiled back and lifted her water bottle in salute. When she turned again, she caught herself checking the temperature on her phone as she walked.

“Scorcher, huh?” Sandra said as Jodie approached her. “And it’s only midmorning.”

“I know.” Jodie gave her a hug. “How’d yesterday go?” She pointed her chin at Sandra’s additional equipment bags on the ground. “Get some good footage?”

“I did! God, they’re beautiful, Jodie.” Devastation crossed Sandra’s features. “I just can’t believe what the BLM are doing. Just the idea of filming those horses getting rounded up, the possibility of them getting hurt, it’s killing me.” She shook her head. “When I started this project, I had no idea how deeply invested I would get, and it’s not just about the horses. I’ve had a chance to do some one-on-one interviews with the ranchers around here. They have legitimate concerns.”

“They do, I agree.”

“I’ve interviewed some FHDH members too, besides you and Willow. It’s complicated.” She wiped sweat from her forehead. “Not that I ever thought it was just about some pretty horses and cowboys.”

“Oh, I know you didn’t.” Jodie sipped from her water bottle.

Sandra rolled her eyes. “Yeah, try telling him that.” She pointed over at Hank, who was just coming out of the barn. “Mr. No Photos Please. And it sucks, because he’s actually kind of a hottie for an old guy.”

Jodie snort-laughed and coughed out water.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry!” Sandra clapped her on the back. “You okay?”

She wiped her arm across her mouth. “Fine, I’m fine.” Hank stood watching them and frowning before he headed over toward the tents. “I’m just trying to imagine his reaction to being called a hottie.”