Page 72 of The Auction
No reply. The longer I stare at the screen, the worse the bad feeling gets—like the air itself is thickening around me.
I’m still glaring at my phone when the crunch of gravel pulls my attention up. A truck and a horse trailer ease into view, kicking up dust behind them.
Everything in me goes cold.
“I wonder who this is.” Mom asks, both of us watching the truck back up to the barn.
“I’ll found out.” I try to sound reassuring but my heart is pounding in my throat.
Two men climb out, both in work boots and dusty ball caps. One pulls a folded paper from his pocket before he’s even close.
“This Emerald Ridge Farm?” the first one asks.
I hesitate. “Who’s asking?”
The second one tips his chin toward the trailer. “We’re here for the horses. Dominion and Saving Grace.”
It’s like the words don’t register for a second, and then they slam into me so hard my knees nearly give.What?
“No,” I say immediately. “No, you’re not.”
“Cass?” Mom’s voice cracks and sounds so small just behind me. “What is this?”
The first man holds the paper out. “Got the receipt right here, ma’am.”
“This has to be some mistake.” I shake my head, already pulling my phone back out. “I’m calling my brother.”
Jonathan still doesn’t answer. I call again. And again. Straight to voicemail.
Panic is building fast in my chest, making it hard to breathe. My fingers fly over the screen and I send off a quick text to Jax—Are you busy?—but nothing else. Not yet.
“Ma’am,” one of the men says, voice firm, “we don’t want trouble. Just here to pick up the stock.”
“They’re not stock,” I snap. “They’re family. And you’re not taking them.”
Things turn sharp fast.
Mom’s color drains in seconds, her hand trembling as it grips the stall door for balance. “Cass…” Her voice is faint, thin, and it cuts through me like glass.
The men exchange a look, and I get a sinking feeling this is about to get really bad. Because their patience is gone before we’ve even started.
One steps in closer, but I move to block his way to the stall. “Ma’am, we were told you’d resist. But our job is to get these horses loaded. This is nothing personal.”
“The hell it isn’t,” I snap, my finger pushing the call button again as I keep my eyes hard on him. The other is opening their trailer.
When I take a second to spare a look at Mom, the second man moves quickly around me, heading straight for Dominion. My pulse spikes as I catch sight of the big gelding sidestepping nervously, ears flicking back.
“Stop!” My voice cracks, sharp and desperate as I end the call my brother keeps ignoring.
“Cassidy, I—” Mom sways where she’s standing, her breathing shallow. I move toward her instinctively, ready to catch her if she goes down, but every step I take toward her is another step away from the stable. My heart is tearing itself in two—do I help her or stop them?
“Shanae!” I whip my head toward the house. “Shanae!” I shout again, my voice carrying across the open acreage. From here, I can see her small figure emerge from the house.
“Help!” I yell, waving an arm. “We need help!”
By the time I look back, the man’s got the stall door open and Dominion’s trying to back into the far corner, muscles tense.
My feet are moving toward him but the second man’s hand closes around my arm, firm enough to keep me in place but not quite bruising—yet.
