Page 103 of Promised to the Cowboy

We spill into the yard as Caleb Cutter’s pickup comes through the gate hard enough to throw gravel against the fence. He brakes beside the barn.

The driver’s door opens, and Caleb gets out with no hat and his bad leg barely holding him. “Which one of you is missing a utility truck?”

I’m already moving toward him. “Where did you see it?”

“On my western pasture. Came through the shared fence before dawn.”

“Who was driving?”

“Couldn’t see. Too dark.”

“Was there a woman with him?”

Caleb’s face changes. “Oh, shit. Evie?”

I grab the front of his coat. “Was she in the truck?”

“I don’t know.”

Daniel pulls me back. “Tell us everything.”

Caleb looks at my hand still fisted in his coat, then at my face. He doesn’t waste time being offended.

“I saw lights out the boundary. Went out to take a look. Fence lines were cut. Truck tracks going through onto my land. Machinery too, I think.” Caleb’s expression turns grim. “Long strip of land with the grass scraped back. Ground packed down. Stakes along both sides. I was coming over to tell you when I saw one of your trucks heading east across my pasture.”

“How long ago?” Ethan asks.

“Twenty-five minutes. Maybe thirty.”

Ethan is already moving toward his vehicle. “Show me.”

“We’re all going,” I say.

Daniel doesn’t argue this time. He turns to the gathered men. “Lock the ranch down. Nobody leaves the house. Viper, take four and hold the east boundary. Wire, you’re with us.”

Daniel looks at Ethan. “Get the drone.” Then at Caleb. “You ride with us and point the way.”

Finally, he looks at me. One brother looking at another and understanding there is nothing on this earth that will keep me behind.

“We bring her home,” he says.

The pressure in my chest sharpens into purpose.

Daniel sends the others toward the equipment barn. The secured cabinet is already open when we get there. For one second, the room is all movement and metal. Rifles come down from theracks. Sidearms are checked and holstered. Daniel passes out radios while the men pull protective vests over work shirts and flannel. Caleb accepts a rifle without comment, his face set hard as he checks the chamber.

Nobody looks like a rancher anymore. Or maybe they do. Maybe this is what these men have always been beneath the denim and dust—soldiers who came home, put their weapons away, and hoped they would never have to reach for them again.

Daniel hands me a vest. “You stay on me.”

I pull it over my head. “I’m not staying behind.”

“That isn’t what I said.”

Across the room, Ethan opens a hard case and begins loading it with drone controls, spare batteries, signal equipment, and tools.

Daniel looks over. “You can track the truck?”

“If its unit comes back online.”