10. Addison
ADDISON
By Sunday morning, Evie was in custody and Torin had enough to keep her there. Stalking. Threats. Breaking and entering. Theft. Reckless endangerment. Attempted destruction of evidence.
Seeing the list in black and white should have made everything feel settled. It didn’t.
Evie Mercer had been my mentor since I was sixteen. She’d taught me how to smile for cameras, shake hands with sponsors, and make everything look effortless. She’d also put a tracker in my crown case.
Torin had questioned her about Roy Pritchard and the forged livestock paperwork. She denied any connection to either.
“I took the album and Boone’s notebook,” she’d told him. “That’s all.”
So far, nothing contradicted her. Which meant Cedar Draw had somehow become part of two different problems.
Morgan had promised we’d sort through the historical evidence once the weekend was over. Torin had Roy to deal with. And for the next several hours, I had a group of junior contestants who deserved a Rodeo Royalty Weekend that wasn’t swallowed up by everything Evie had done.
Ruby had offered to cancel the rest of it. I’d said no. Not because sponsors expected me to finish. Not because the girls were counting on me. Not because Evie had spent years teaching me to smile through whatever happened.
I wanted to finish. There was a difference.
By the time the junior clinic started, the grounds were already humming again.
Parents crowded the rail with phones held high.
Girls hurried between the registration table and the arena in boots that were either too new or too big.
Somebody had lost a sash, somebody else had lost three bobby pins, and one nine-year-old had slipped in the mud and needed a whole new dress.
Normal problems. I could handle normal.
Martina Hernandez waited until the other girls headed toward the arena before tugging on my sleeve. “Miss Addison?”
I crouched down next to her. “What’s up?”
She twisted her fingers together, her bracelet sparkling on her small wrist. “What do you do if somebody makes wants a hug and you don’t want to give them one?”
The question landed somewhere deep.
Her mother stood a few feet away, watching us.
For years, I’d known exactly what Evie would have told me. Smile. Deflect. Don’t embarrass anyone. Keep the peace.
I looked Martina in the eye. “You say no.”
She nodded like she was taking my answer to heart.
“Loud if you need to. And if they don’t listen, you get away from them and find someone you trust.”
“What if they get mad?”
“That’s their problem.”
Her mother’s eyes went bright.
Martina thought about that for a second. “Okay.”
“And you never have to be polite to somebody who makes you feel unsafe.”
That earned me a hug. I held her tight before sending her back toward the other girls. This time when I smiled, nobody had taught me how.
The clinic rolled straight into parade rehearsal, which meant I barely had time to grab a drink of water before somebody was calling my name again.
Braxton stayed close through all of it without hovering.
I always knew where he was—near the arena gate, talking to Torin, scanning the crowd—but he wasn’t standing between me and every person who came close.
Kyle Merritt backed toward me with his camera raised, paying more attention to his shot than where he was going.
Braxton stepped into his path. “Give her some room.”
Kyle immediately shifted back. “Sorry.”
I glanced at Braxton.
He gave me the slightest nod. No argument. No rescue. Just help when I needed it. I kept moving.
A few minutes later, Hades wandered over from wherever he spent his days creating trouble and dropped onto the grass beside the parade route.
Three junior contestants immediately abandoned formation to pet him.
Braxton stared at the enormous black wolf surrounded by rhinestones, curls, and pink boots.
“I still don’t understand why everyone acts like that’s normal.”
“Because he has excellent judgment.”
Hades looked straight at him.
Braxton pointed. “Don’t start.”
I laughed.
For the first time in days, it came easily.
By that afternoon, the clinic, rehearsal, and dozens of small crises had blurred together into something that almost felt normal again.
My final appearance was the grand entry.
I stood inside the queen trailer in my best boots, sash, and crown and checked myself in the mirror one last time. The crown sat slightly crooked. Just enough that Evie would have fixed it before I ever made it out the door.
I lifted my hand. Then lowered it again. It could stay crooked.
Outside, someone called my name from the arena gate. I stepped into the sun, mounted the dappled gray mare waiting for me, and rode into the arena with my head high.
The crowd cheered. I waved and smiled. Not because I had to. Because I wanted to.
When I dismounted after my lap, Braxton was waiting near the gate. His gaze moved straight to my crown. “You left it crooked.”
“I know.”
“On purpose?”
“Yeah.”
His real smile appeared. “Good.”
I wanted to kiss him, but Ruby was already coming toward us with Orville and a photographer. So I brushed my fingers against his as I passed. His hand caught mine for half a second.
That was enough. At least for now.
The rest of the afternoon disappeared in a blur of pictures, hugs, cleanup, and a banquet where I didn’t have to organize anything for once. By the time I finally left the rodeo grounds, exhaustion had settled all the way into my bones.
Braxton had gone back to the ranch ahead of me. When I walked inside, the first thing I saw was his duffel bag beside the front door.
My stomach dropped. Of course he was leaving. His job was over. Evie was in custody. The immediate threat was gone. There was no reason for him to stay.
I found him upstairs folding clothes with the same ridiculous precision he applied to everything else.
“You’re leaving.”
He looked up. “No.”
I stopped in the doorway. “Then why is your bag packed?”
“I’m putting away the things I don’t need here.”
He folded another shirt and set it on the bed. “I declined my next assignment.”
My heart stumbled. “Why?”
“Because I want to stay.” He crossed the room. “I want to restore the house. Fix the barn. Do something about the porch before somebody falls through it.”
“That porch has character.”
“It has rot.”
“In Montana, that’s basically the same thing.”
His lips curved up in a small smile. “I can run things from here. Build a regional office. Hire locally. Travel when I need to.”
“Braxton…”
“I’m not staying because you need protection.” He stopped in front of me. “I’m staying because I want to. I want you.”
Everything inside me went still.
“And for the first time in fifteen years, I want Mustang Mountain too.”
I stared at him, hoping he meant what he was saying. “I travel a lot.”
“I know.”
“I leave Thursday for a three-day rodeo in Billings.”
“Then I’ll keep the week open.”
I arched my brows. “You want to come with me as my bodyguard?”
“Not unless you’re paying me.” He laughed, teasing.
I stepped closer. “What if I want you to come because I just want you there?”
“Then I’ll come.”
“What if I don’t know exactly what I want yet?” I bit down on my lip. Things between us had been intense, but they were still new. I wasn’t sure I could trust it yet.
He set down the shirt he’d been folding and cupped my cheeks. Then I’ll wait until you do. I’m not going anywhere, Addison.”
That did it. I rose to my tiptoes and kissed him. Braxton pulled me against him and kissed me back. We made it three steps toward the bed before I started laughing.
He stopped. “What?”
“You folded your clothes before telling me you weren’t leaving.”
“They needed folding.”
“Of course they did.” I kissed him again.
This time neither of us laughed. There was no contract between us anymore. No professional boundary. No question about whether wanting each other interfered with his job. His job was over. This was ours.
Later, after he’d shown me exactly how much he wanted me, I traced the scar across his shoulder while the last of the daylight faded beyond the windows.
“So you’re really staying.”
“Yeah.”
“Even with all the ghosts here?”
He turned his head toward me. “There are other things here now.”
“The structurally questionable porch?”
“Among other things.”
I smiled.
His thumb brushed my cheek. “I spent fifteen years thinking leaving was the only way I could live with what happened.”
“And now?”
“Now I think maybe staying is.”
The words I wanted to say rose fast. I love you. They scared me enough that I swallowed them. Not because they weren’t true, but because they were.
There would be time. For once, I didn’t need to rush something just to make it feel finished.
And apparently Morgan had no intention of letting me spend much time thinking about it, because she called the next morning before I’d finished my first cup of coffee.
She wanted us at Mayor Nelson’s office.
When Braxton and I arrived, the conference table was already crowded.
Claire and Torin sat together near one end.
Slade leaned against the wall. Tanner stood near the window.
Sadie and Dallas had taken seats beside Jace Walker, while Dawson Griffith stood near the filing cabinet.
Copies of the evidence covered the table.
Morgan waited until Braxton and I found seats before tapping one sheet with her finger. “We’ve been asking the wrong question about Margaret.”
That got everyone’s attention.
“Once we knew her name, finding Margaret Whitaker wasn’t difficult.”
Claire leaned closer.
Morgan slid the record toward her. “Eleanor married into the Whitaker family. Margaret appears in the household records under the Whitaker name and was publicly treated as her husband’s daughter.”
The secret hadn’t been that Margaret disappeared. She hadn’t. She’d grown up under a perfectly ordinary name with a perfectly ordinary explanation for who her father was.
Slade looked toward the copy of Boone’s notebook. “So Boone wasn’t hiding Margaret herself.”
“No.” Morgan tapped the notation. “He was protecting the truth about her parentage.”
Eleanor’s girl secured under Whitaker name. H.M.K. agreement honored.
“For Henry,” Tanner said.
“Most likely. The letters already establish the relationship, and Boone’s notes make the implication stronger. But I still want documentation before we know for sure that Henry was her father.” Morgan shifted to the next notation.
Cedar Draw stock held for Margaret.
“That’s the piece we still don’t understand.”
Jace leaned forward. “Because we don’t know what ‘held for Margaret’ means.”
“Exactly.” She placed the final surviving line beside it.
Cedar Draw account — Walker to continue until Margaret’s line is established.
“We can trace Margaret Whitaker through ordinary records now. What we don’t know is what financial arrangement Boone was protecting, what Cedar Draw was supposed to provide for her, or why the Walkers were instructed to continue an account tied to her.”
Dawson glanced toward the old livestock ledger. “And my family’s records?”
“Still part of it somehow. Your ledger confirms the families were handling stock together in the same period. We still don’t know why the Griffiths kept those records.”
“My family journal has payments decades later.” Jace studied Boone’s handwriting.
“The 1943 entry,” Morgan said. “‘Both parties aware.’ And the reference to the feud being for show.”
“So we follow the account,” Jace said.
Morgan nodded. “We follow the money.”
Dallas glanced toward Sadie. “And Roy?”
Torin answered. “Separate for now. Nothing we’ve found connects Evie to what Roy was doing.”
“We also don’t assume Roy was using Cedar Draw for the same reason Boone was.” Morgan folded her arms. “The name may have been useful to different people for very different reasons.”
Slade glanced across the remaining records. “The missing 1912 transfer? The boundary marker? And the 1923 claim?”
“Claire and I will keep working it,” Morgan said. “But none of those are the next question.”
She tapped Boone’s note.
Walker to continue until Margaret’s line is established.
“This is.”
Jace sat back. “I’ll bring you everything my family has that looks financial.”
“Ledgers, leases, tax records, old correspondence. Anything showing money moving between these families.” Morgan nodded, gathering the papers into a stack. “We finally know who Margaret Whitaker was. Now we need to figure out what somebody intended her to have.”
That was where we left it for now. We hadn’t solved anything yet but with Morgan spearheading the effort, it was only a matter of time.
Outside, people were moving up and down Main Street with coffee cups and shopping bags, completely unaware that another piece of Mustang Mountain history had just shifted underneath us.
Braxton reached for my hand. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
We started toward his truck. He was really staying. The thought brought back the words I’d swallowed the night before.
There would be time. That was what I’d told myself. But time wasn’t the same thing as courage, and I was done hiding behind what was comfortable.
I stopped.
Braxton took another step before realizing I wasn’t next to him. He turned. “What’s wrong?”
“I love you.”
There. It was out there. I hadn’t waited for the perfect moment or tried to polish the words into something more.
His expression changed so completely my chest tightened. “Are you sure?”
I laughed. “Seriously?”
The corner of his mouth lifted. “I had to ask.”
I took his face between my hands. “I love you, Braxton James.”
“I love you too, was just waiting for the perfect time to say it.” His arms closed around me. “I should have known better. The perfect time is just you and me together.”
I kissed him right there on the sidewalk, and for once, I didn’t care who was watching.