9. Porter
9
PORTER
I spread the papers across Hank’s old desk, my stomach churning as I read each threat. The earliest ones were vague—warnings about selling while they could still get a “fair” price. But they escalated quickly. Graphic descriptions of accidents that could befall livestock.
When I saw the photos sent too, they made me want to hit something. They included surveillance shots of Cici doing routine chores—checking fences, working horses, walking into the barns. They captured her quiet determination, but also how isolated and vulnerable she’d become. Whoever took them had gotten close—way too close.
I lowered my arms so my hands were out of view and clenched my fists. Why hadn’t she shared any of this?
“The barn fire was threatened here.” Cici pointed to a note postmarked two weeks before the blaze. “And Thunder Cloud being hurt…”
“Jesus,” I muttered under my breath, studying the photo showing the stallion’s usual morning turnout. The timestamp from that day matched when he’d gotten tangled in the rope. Not an accident, after all.
Her hands shook as she spread out maintenance records. “I’ve been documenting everything. The bigger problems started after Mom and Dad died, but looking back…” She swallowed hard. “There were signs before. Things Dad was worried about.”
Soon, I’d need to share all I’d documented too. God knew what she’d do when she realized things were so much worse than even she believed. When my eyes met Kaleb’s, he shook his head.
“This is bad, Cici. We need to?—”
A commotion outside pulled us from the grim evidence. Through the window, I spotted Johnson running toward the house.
“The north well pump is smoking,” he gasped when we met him at the door. “And the backup isn’t responding. We’ve got four hundred head with no water access. I tried to get it running, but there’s something wrong with the electrical system.”
“How long until the portable tanks run dry?” Cici asked, already heading to the barn.
“Hard to say, but not very long.”
I did quick mental calculations. The cattle would start showing signs of serious distress within hours of the water running out. Once dehydration set in, we’d lose control completely. “We need to move them to the south pasture. Now.”
“The fences there aren’t ready,” Cici protested.
“They are. I’ve had a crew here, working on them.”
She opened her mouth, then shut it. Now wasn’t the time for us to talk about the things I’d done without consulting her like I’d agreed to.
“Let’s go,” I said, grabbing my jacket. “Those cattle start getting dehydrated, and we’ll have a stampede on our hands. And a lot of dead livestock.”
Her jaw clenched and unclenched like my fists had earlier. “Johnson, get Martinez started on the portable tanks. Whatever we can salvage from the north side.”
“I’ll get Thunder Cloud saddled,” I said. “We’ll need him to move the herd.”
Cici’s eyes widened. “You can’t?—”
“He knows me. And he’s the strongest horse you’ve got.” I held her gaze. “Trust me. Just this once.”
Something shifted in her expression—fear warring with necessity. Finally, she nodded. “I’ll take Stormchaser. She’s not as fast, but she’s steady.”
“I’ll help,” Kaleb offered. “Point where I need to go.”
I raced into the barn, wishing I’d already called Decker Ashford like I planned to, and my brothers.
When I approached Thunder Cloud’s stall, the stallion’s ears pricked forward at my footsteps, and I took a moment to let him catch my scent. There was so much power in his massive frame, but there was intelligence too. He’d proven that during the fire.
Once he was saddled up, I led him out of the barn and threw a leg over. I increased my calf pressure and clucked. Thunder Cloud danced under me as we sped out of the pasture. It was as though the animal sensed the urgency, sensed I was relying on him. Cici rode beside me on Stormchaser, her face set in determined lines as we approached the restless herd.
The cattle were already showing signs of distress, crowding around the dry tanks. Moving them would be tricky—one spooked animal could start a chain reaction. And someone had deliberately put us in this position.
“Take the left flank. Nice and easy. Let them see us coming,” I called to her just as Bullet rode up with three of the other hands.
“We were out east,” he hollered. “What’s going on?”
“Tanks are dry.”
The look in his eyes told me he knew they hadn’t just run out of water, but again, now wasn’t the time to debate the situation.
“Spread out along the ridge. Don’t let any break away toward the north fence,” I said to Bullet, who nodded.
Cici followed me, guiding Stormchaser wide, realizing we’d need to push them through a narrow gate, then along a quarter mile of fence line before reaching the south pasture. One wrong move, and all hell would break loose.
The first cow moved, then another. Thunder Cloud responded to the slightest pressure, helping turn the herd. For a moment, I thought we might actually pull this off easier than I’d anticipated.
Then a shot cracked across the pasture.
The herd exploded into motion. Cattle scattered in every direction, bellowing in panic. Thunder Cloud reared, but I kept my seat, already scanning for the shooter. The sound had come from the tree line to the east, where shadows still clung to the underbrush. Wasn’t that where Bullet said he’d been working?
“Cici!” I shouted, spinning around in time to see her struggling to control Stormchaser as cattle surged around them. Without thinking, I spurred Thunder Cloud toward them.
When we heard another shot—closer this time—a bull broke from the herd, heading straight for Cici. I saw the moment Stormchaser lost her footing in a gopher hole, then Cici start to fall.
Thunder Cloud responded instantly to my commands, cutting through the stampeding cattle. I reached Cici just as she hit the ground, hauling her up behind me as the bull charged past. Her arms wrapped around my waist instinctively, and I felt her whole body trembling.
“Hold on!” I yelled over the chaos. Thunder Cloud pivoted, facing the scattered herd. The stallion seemed to understand exactly what we needed, moving with perfect precision to cut off escaping animals.
Working as one, we managed to turn the cattle back toward the gate. Her body pressed against my back, her breath warm on my neck as she called directions. Every point of contact felt like electricity, but I forced myself to focus on the task at hand. Thorn, Stetson, and the third hand appeared on the ridge, helping funnel the terrified animals.
It took nearly two hours to get the herd contained and moved safely. By then, the deputies I’d learned Kaleb radioed for had swept the area but found no sign of the shooter. Just more shell casings matching the others, and fresh tire tracks leading to the county road.
When we finally dismounted, Cici’s hands were shaking. I caught her arm as she stumbled, pulling her against me before I could think better of it. She didn’t move away. Her heart was racing against my chest, and I found myself wanting to promise her everything would be okay. But we both knew better than to believe it would.
“Are you hurt?” I asked, my voice rougher than intended.
She shook her head against my chest. “Porter, if you hadn’t been here…”
“But I was.” I forced myself to step back, to remember all the reasons she and I couldn’t be together again. At least not yet. The secrets I carried about Maverick, about the trust requirements, about my growing suspicions regarding her parents’ death—they formed a wall between us that felt insurmountable. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not until we figure out who’s behind this.”
She studied me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine for something I wasn’t sure I could give. “Why? Why risk yourself for us?”
Because I promised your father. Because I owe your brother. Because watching you fight so hard makes me want to fight beside you. Because every time I look at you, I forget all the reasons I shouldn’t. Because I fucking love you, Cici Morris.
“Because it’s the right thing to do,” I said instead.
“Wait, Stormchaser?” she shielded her eyes from the sun and looked around.
“I got her into the barn, ma’am,” said Stetson, who was standing a few feet from us. “She stumbled, but everything below the knee looks fine.”
“Cici, this is Stetson Hamilton. He’s?—”
She nodded. “I know who he is. Thank you for taking care of Chaser.”
Stet touched the brim of his hat with one finger. “I’m here to help, ma’am.”
“My name is Cici. Use it,” she said before turning to me. “We should check those shell casings again. Maybe there’s something we missed.”
“Once things have settled, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the crew who came over from the Roaring Fork.”
“You’ll do more than that, Wheaton,” she snapped without looking at me.
I followed her back to where the shots had come from. A spent casing glinted in the dirt, partially hidden under a scrub oak. Something about it caught my eye.
“Custom loads,” I said, picking it up. “Not something you’d find at the local gun shop.”
Cici crouched beside me. “These casings—” She stopped talking, and the color left her face.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” But her voice shook slightly. “Just remembered something I need to check in Dad’s files.”
Before I could press her, Johnson called from the fence line. Several posts had been damaged in the stampede, leaving a section unstable. If we didn’t fix it before dark, we might lose the whole herd.
Every one of us worked side by side for the next few hours, setting posts and stringing wire. The physical labor helped quiet my mind, but I couldn’t get over the feeling that Cici had realized something important. Something that scared her.
Thunder Cloud grazed nearby, keeping watch like he sensed the lingering danger. The stallion had proved himself again today—steady under pressure, quick to respond. Just like his owner had been before everything went wrong.
“Your father would be proud,” I said quietly as we finished the last section. “Of you, the way you’re fighting for this place.”
“Would he?” Her laugh was bitter. “Everything’s falling apart, Porter. The breeding program, the contracts, the ranch itself. And now, someone’s trying to kill us.”
“They’re trying to break you.” I grabbed her arm as she started to turn away. “Don’t let them.”
She looked down at my hand gripping her sleeve, then back up at me. Something shifted in her expression—not quite trust, but maybe understanding. “Is that what you’re doing? Refusing to break?”
The question hit closer to home than she could know. Every day I stayed sober was a victory over the guilt and secrets threatening to drown me. Every time I chose to keep Maverick’s secret, I broke a little more of whatever was growing between Cici and me.
“We should head back,” I said instead of answering. “Storm’s coming.”
Dark clouds were gathering over the mountains, promising more complications.
“The herd needs to be checked for injury,” I shouted in Thorn’s direction. “We also need to make sure water access is secure.”
“On it, boss.”
“Who’s that?” she asked on our way to the barn.
“Thorn Roseman, err, first name’s Nash. He’s assistant ranch foreman at Roaring Fork. You know him?” I asked when I noticed her scrunched eyes.
“Don’t think so. I mean, I doubt I’d forget someone that good-looking.”
My brow furrowed as I studied her, trying to figure out if she was giving me shit. However, it wasn’t the first time I’d heard such comments about the guy.
Cici stopped walking and folded her arms. “You promised not to make major changes without consulting me first. And that you’d tell me everything—every problem, every solution, every detail.”
“I know, and I’m sorry?—”
“Wasn’t it you who, only a few hours ago, said we need to start being honest with each other?”
“Yes.”
“What else haven’t you told me?”
I turned toward the barn, making it appear I was leading Thunder Cloud inside rather than refusing to look into her eyes. Where in the hell would I start if I came clean with all I hadn’t told her?
Thunder Cloud’s stride hitched slightly, making me realize he’d gotten nicked during the chaos. Nothing serious, but it was one more reminder of how close we’d come to disaster.
Cici must’ve picked up on it too since she didn’t repeat her question. Once in the barn, she tended to Stormchaser while I led the stallion to his stall.
“How’s she look?” I asked over my shoulder.
“Minor scrapes. Nothing serious.” Still, I noticed Cici’s hands tremble as she applied antiseptic.
“Let me help with Thunder Cloud,” she said when she finished. “It’s the least I can do after today.”
I wanted to refuse her help, to say I could handle it, but the stallion had already moved toward her, nickering softly. Like father, like daughter—they both had a way with horses that went beyond simple training. Me, it was harder. For them, it came naturally.
She reached out, then pulled her hand back when she touched my arm and I flinched. “How are your burns healing?”
The truth was, I’d practically forgotten about them with everything else going on until her hand landed on one. “I’m fine.”
“Sure you are.” She smirked but didn’t say anything else.
We worked in companionable silence, cleaning Thunder Cloud’s small wound and checking him for other injuries. The barn was quiet except for the horses’ soft movements and the distant rumble of thunder. Then Maverick’s voice carried from outside, slurred and angry.
“Where is everyone? Cici?”
She tensed beside me, her hand stilling on Thunder Cloud’s flank. “He’s drunk again.”
“I’ll go,” I said quickly. “We’re pretty much done here.”
“Porter—” She caught my arm, but in a different place, so this time, I didn’t flinch. “Thank you. For today. For everything.”
The gratitude in her voice made my chest ache with guilt. She was right to ask what else I hadn’t told her, but that didn’t mean I’d be able to answer.
Her hand lingered on my arm, and when our eyes met, God, how I longed to kiss her. Mav stumbling on the other side of the barn brought me back to my senses, and I hurried over to look for him.
I found him just inside the front alley door, an almost-empty bottle dangling from his fingers.
“Need a hand?” I asked, noticing he didn’t have his crutches or his cane.
He squinted at me through the gathering darkness. “Heard there was trouble. Shots fired.” His words slurred together. “Couldn’t even help. Useless now.”
“Let’s get you inside before this storm hits,” I said, doing my best to keep my voice steady.
“Why?” His tone was tinged with bitterness. “Why do you even care?”
Because watching you destroy yourself with alcohol reminds me of my own battles with the bottle.
“Because someone should,” I said instead.
We’d gotten a few feet from the barn when lightning flashed, illuminating his face. For a moment, he looked so much like Hank it hurt. Then his legs buckled.
I caught him before he could fall, supporting his weight as the first fat drops of rain began to fall. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you home.”
“Everything’s so messed up,” he mumbled as I helped him toward the house. “Since the accident… since Mom and Dad…”
My heart clenched at the pain in his voice. We were almost to the ranch house when Cici raced up to us. “Maverick! Where are your crutches?”
“I got him,” I said, helping him inside when she got the door open just as the storm broke in earnest.
I managed to carry him up to his room, then stood in the hallway afterward, listening to Cici’s muffled words as she got him settled. The weight of our combined secret pressed down harder than ever. Maverick was spiraling, using alcohol to numb his demons. And Cici had recognized something about those shell casings that frightened her.
The truth was out there, hidden in the layers of lies and half-truths we’d all built around ourselves. I just hoped, when it finally came out, there’d be something left worth saving.
Thunder crashed overhead as I headed back to the barn to check Thunder Cloud and Stormchaser once more.
“What do you say, boy?” I murmured as I stroked the powerful horse. “Think your owner would forgive me if she knew the truth?”
The stallion nickered softly, offering no answers to questions that grew more complicated with each passing day.
“Hey,” Cici said from behind me. “Are you coming back to the house?”
God, had she heard me? If so, she wasn’t letting on. “Thought I’d call it a night.”
“I meant it when I said I’d rather you stay there.”
“I don’t want to put?—”
“Please, Porter. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to ask?”
When she stepped closer and I saw she was crying, I pulled her into my arms. Her tears dampened the flannel of my shirt. “Shh,” I soothed, reaching up to stroke her hair.
“I don’t know how much more I can take.”
I leaned away enough to see her face. “That’s what they’re counting on. We aren’t gonna let them win. Do you hear me?”
Her eyes darted back and forth between mine. “I wish I knew why you cared so much.”
I shook my head. “I always have.”
“I thought you’d stopped.”
“Never.”
The way our lips met, I couldn’t say which of us had instigated the kiss. All I knew was I wouldn’t be the one to end it.