Page 33 of Forbidden Rancher's Return
"Solid construction."
"My grandfather built it."
"Then I owe him."
She laughs again. Warmer this time. The sound fills the small shed and I hold it like something I've been starving for.
The generator hums beside us.
Then it doesn't.
The engine coughs once. Twice, then dies.
The lights in the house flicker out. The lantern between us burns low.
The silence hits like cold water. Both of us go still. The air between us is still warm, still charged, but the world outside it suddenly very present.
I turn toward the machine. The fuel cap sits open. Gasoline drips slowly into the dirt.
That cap was closed when I started it. I checked it myself.
Calla sees it the same second that I do. She pulls her flannel from the ground and holds it against her chest. Her voice comes out flat and cold.
"Someone was in here."
"Yes."
"While we were."
"Yes."
The word lands like ice.
Whoever was in the pasture didn't just watch tonight.
They came close enough to touch the machine. Close enough to be ten feet from us in the dark and we never heard them.
Calla's eyes meet mine across the dim shed. Her jaw is set. Her breathing hasn't fully slowed. She looks like a woman caught between fury and fear and choosing fury every time.
And the storm outside feels like the least dangerous thing on this ridge.
Calla
The shed goes dark.
Not dim. Not shadowed. Black. The kind that presses against your eyes and makes every sound louder than it should be.
The generator sits silent. Gasoline drips into the dirt. Rowan stands two feet away and I can't see his face, but I can feel the tension radiating off his shoulders, the shift in his breathing from want to alert.
Someone was in here while his hands were on me. While my back was against the workbench and my mouth was on his shoulder and I wasn't thinking about anything except him.
The thought turns my stomach.
"We need to check the perimeter," I say.
"Yes."
"And the barn."
