Chapter 20
TWENTY
DEVLIN
After spending time with Atlee yesterday, I’m ready for the workday on Monday.
I watch as she exits the driveway and turns onto the main road, then I get in my truck and head for the Grizzly River Ranch.
When I get there, I see one of my brothers I haven’t seen in a while.
Getting out of my truck, I walk over. “Where the fuck you been, Austin?”
He gives me a grin. “Doing a little reconnaissance, which is why I’m here today. I’m calling a meeting in the barn.”
We’re starting to call more meetings than actually get work done, but I’m glad to see my younger brother. It’s been way too long. When I get inside, I see the rest of the guys are already there. “Sorry, I seem to be late.”
Jesse takes a drink of his coffee. “Truett and I were already out here, and Carson just showed up. You aren’t as late as you think you are.”
I appreciate that he’s willing to give me an out. I have been getting to the ranch later than I used to, but at least I have a good reason. “So what’s this I’m hearing about Austin doing reconnaissance?”
Austin pushes his hat off his head and runs his fingers through his hair.
“Y’all are about to get arrested, but I need you to go with it.
Noah will be here in the next hour. I spent last night meeting with Shawn Cooper, and he knows the deal.
Lennon has already started to work on some of the paperwork.
So as soon as they ask to speak with you, just say lawyer.
Shawn will be waiting for all of you at the jail. ”
My stomach clenches. I don’t do well in spaces or situations where I’m forced to follow rules. Not anymore. I’m just about to say those words when I hear sirens and what sounds like a bunch of cars coming down the driveway.
“That was faster than expected,” Austin mutters, glancing toward the barn doors.
“Shit,” Carson hisses, looking around like he’s searching for an escape route.
Jesse holds up a hand, his expression calm despite the approaching chaos. “Everyone needs to put their hands up and kneel. There’s no reason for us to cause a disruption. Let them come in, do what they need to do. If we don’t fight, then they have no reason to use force.”
Truett looks like he wants to argue, but he catches Jesse’s warning glance and nods reluctantly.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm the roaring in my ears. Enclosed spaces, restraints, loss of control—these are the things that trigger the worst of my PTSD episodes. But Jesse is right. Fighting will only make things worse.
“Do what he says,” I instruct, already lowering myself to one knee, hands raised above my head.
The others follow suit, forming a line of kneeling men in the center of the barn. Austin stands off to the side, hands also raised but remaining on his feet.
“It’ll be okay,” he says quietly. “Just follow the plan.”
The sirens cut off abruptly, and the sound of car doors slamming echoes through the morning air. Heavy footsteps approach the barn, and then the doors burst open, flooding the dim space with harsh sunlight.
“Sheriff’s department! Nobody move!” The shout comes from one of the deputies I don’t recognize, his gun drawn and pointed in our general direction.
More officers file in behind him, including Noah, who strides forward with a smug smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He’s enjoying this, the power trip of seeing us on our knees with our hands up.
“Well, well,” he drawls, coming to stand in front of me. “Devlin Nelson. How the mighty have fallen.”
I say nothing, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead. Any reaction would only feed his ego, giving him the satisfaction he’s looking for.
“You’re all under arrest for cattle theft, conspiracy, and interfering with a police investigation,” Noah announces, loud enough for everyone to hear. He gestures to the other officers. “Cuff ’em.”
The deputies move in, pulling our arms behind our backs and securing them with plastic zip ties. One of them is unnecessarily rough with Carson, yanking his arms so hard he winces.
“Easy,” Jesse warns, earning himself an extra-tight cinch of his own restraints.
When it’s my turn, Noah steps forward. “I’ll take this one,” he tells the deputy who is approaching me.
I can feel the tension radiating from my brothers as Noah circles behind me, but I give them a slight shake of my head. Don’t interfere. We’ve got a plan.
“You know,” Noah says, leaning down close to my ear as he secures the zip ties around my wrists. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time. Payback for what you did to me.”
I remain silent, focusing on my breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. The way my old combat instructor taught us to handle stress.
“Nothing to say?” Noah taunts, pulling the restraints so tight they immediately start cutting into my skin. “No smart-ass remarks? No threats?”
When I still don’t respond, I see a flash of frustration cross his face. He wants a reaction, something to justify escalating this beyond a simple arrest.
“Get up,” he orders, grabbing my arm and hauling me to my feet with unnecessary force.
I comply, rising smoothly despite the awkward position of my arms behind my back. The others are being pulled to their feet as well, all of us maintaining a dignified silence that seems to irritate Noah more by the second.
“Start walking,” he commands, shoving me toward the barn door.
As I take a step forward, he sticks his foot out, tripping me. I stumble but manage to catch myself before falling, years of combat training keeping me upright despite the handicap of having my hands bound.
“Stop resisting!” Noah shouts, grabbing the back of my neck and slamming me against one of the support beams of the barn.
“I’m not—” I start to say, but he cuts me off with a backhand across my face, the sharp crack of it echoing through the barn.
“Noah! What the fuck?” Jesse barks, taking a step forward before another deputy restrains him.
I taste blood in my mouth and feel it trickling from the corner of my lips. But instead of anger, a strange calm settles over me. This is exactly what we need—evidence of Noah’s corruption, his personal vendetta clouding his professional judgment.
Slowly, I turn my head back to face him, a smile spreading across my bloodied lips. “You might want to save some of that for later,” I tell him quietly. “Because once I’m out of these cuffs and past all this legal bullshit, I’ll be happy to meet you somewhere private to settle the score.”
A flicker of uncertainty passes through his eyes before he masks it with another show of bravado. “Get him out of here,” he says to the nearest deputy, stepping back.
They march us out into the yard where three patrol cars and a transport van wait. The morning sun is bright, making me squint as they guide us toward the vehicles. Ranch hands have gathered at a distance, watching with concerned expressions as their bosses are led away in restraints.
“Tell Aubree what’s happening,” Jesse calls to one of them. “And call Shawn Cooper!” he says, mostly for show. We don’t want them to know that he’s already on his way because he knows we’re getting arrested.
“This sucks,” Austin grumbles from behind us. He’s being led out too, but his hands aren’t bound. He catches my eye and gives me a subtle nod of reassurance. Everything’s going according to plan.
They load us into the transport van—Jesse, Truett, Carson and me—while Austin is placed in one of the patrol cars.
The ride to the county jail is tense and silent.
The plastic restraints dig into my wrists, and my cheek throbs where Noah struck me.
But none of that matters. What matters is that Atlee is safe, unaware of what’s happening.
I hope she stays that way until this is resolved.
The county jail is a squat, gray building on the outskirts of town.
They lead us inside through a back entrance, avoiding the public areas where we might be seen.
We get booked with mugshots and fingerprints.
They keep us separated during this process, but I can hear Carson asking repeatedly to speak with his lawyer, following the script perfectly.
After booking, they place us in a holding cell together, minus Austin, who’s been taken elsewhere. The cell is small, designed for temporary holding rather than long-term confinement, with a bench running along three walls and a stainless steel toilet in the corner.
“Well, this is cozy,” Truett remarks, rubbing his wrists where the restraints have left angry red marks.
“Everyone okay?” Jesse asks, looking us each over with concern.
Carson nods, though he looks pale and shaken. This is his first arrest, and despite our planning, the reality of it is clearly hitting him hard.
“Fine,” I answer, though the ache in my jaw suggests Noah’s hit might have done some damage. “Just ready to get this over with.”
“It won’t be long now,” Jesse assures us. “Shawn should be here any minute.”
As if on cue, the door to the holding area opens, and a deputy appears. “Your lawyer is here,” he announces, sounding less than pleased about it.
We’re led to an interview room where Shawn Cooper waits, looking impeccable in a tailored gray suit. Beside him stands Lennon, her blonde hair pulled back in a severe bun, her expression all business.
“Gentlemen,” Shawn greets us as we file in. “Please take a seat.”
Once the door closes behind the deputy, Shawn’s professional demeanor softens slightly. “Well, that happened faster than we anticipated. Austin barely had time to warn everybody before they moved in.”
“How bad is it?” Jesse asks, getting straight to the point. “They told us some shit out there, but I have a feeling it’s more than what they said.”
“They’ve got warrants for all four of you on charges of cattle rustling, conspiracy, and as a special bonus, obstruction of justice,” Shawn explains, opening a folder on the table.
“The evidence is largely circumstantial.—the doorbell camera footage Carson discovered, some testimony from Morrison about suspicious vehicles on his property, and what appears to be an anonymous tip about your sudden financial turnaround.”
“What about Austin?” I ask. “Why did they bring him in?”
“Material witness,” Lennon answers, speaking for the first time. “They’re hoping he’ll flip on y’all, not knowing he’s already working with us.”
“Devlin,” Shawn says, frowning as he takes in my face. “What happened there?”
I touch my cheek, wincing slightly. “Noah happened. Said I was resisting arrest.”
“Was anyone else present when this occurred?” Shawn asks, his eyes sharpening with interest.
“All of us,” Jesse confirms. “Plus at least three other deputies.”
“Perfect,” Shawn says, making a note. “That’s exactly the kind of behavior that supports our narrative about Noah’s personal vendetta interfering with his professional duties.”
Lennon steps forward, her eyes fixed on my injured face. “We’ll document that before the arraignment,” she says. “It’ll help with the harassment claim we’re filing.”
“Arraignment?” Carson asks, looking confused. “When is that happening?”
“In about an hour,” Shawn explains. “Judge Holloway is on the bench today, which is a stroke of luck for us. She’s fair and not easily swayed by the Morrison influence.”
“What’s our play here?” Truett asks.
“Simple,” Shawn says. “We acknowledge you’ve had financial difficulties, acknowledge you’ve recently come into some money, but maintain the source was legitimate with the land sale.
We argue that Noah’s evidence is circumstantial at best, tainted by personal bias at worst, and that you’re all upstanding members of the community with strong ties to the area, making you low flight risks. ”
“And if they press about the cattle?” Jesse asks.
“We say nothing about that,” Lennon interjects firmly. “Not a word. That’s what the Fifth Amendment is for.”
Shawn nods in agreement. “The burden of proof is on them. Right now, all they have is conjecture and a grainy video that doesn’t clearly identify any of you. It’s not enough for a conviction.”
“What about bail?” I ask, thinking about Atlee. I need to get back to her before she hears about this from someone else.
“Given the nonviolent nature of the charges and your community ties, we should be able to secure release on bond,” Shawn assures me. “It might be substantial, but I’m guessing that won’t be a problem given the proceeds from your recent land sale.”
There’s a knowing look in his eye that tells me he’s well aware all our money didn’t come from the land sale. But he’s smart enough not to ask questions he doesn’t want the answers to.
“Any other questions before we head to court?” Shawn asks, gathering his papers.
“Just one,” I say quietly. “Has anyone contacted Atlee?”
Lennon’s expression softens slightly. “Not yet. I thought it would be better coming from you once you’re released.”
I nod, grateful for her understanding. “Thank you.”
The arraignment is a blur of legal formalities.
We stand before Judge Holloway, a stern-faced woman in her sixties with sharp eyes that seem to miss nothing.
Shawn presents our case exactly as he outlined, emphasizing our deep roots in the community and the circumstantial nature of the evidence against us.
The prosecutor, a young woman I vaguely recognize as being someone’s little sister that I went to school with, argues for remand, citing the serious nature of the charges and the potential flight risk. But her arguments lack conviction, as if she knows she’s fighting a losing battle.
Noah stands at the back of the courtroom, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression darkening as the proceedings continue to go our way.
In the end, Judge Holloway sets bond at fifty thousand dollars each. It’s a lot, but we can cover it.
“The defendants will surrender their passports and check in weekly with the court until trial,” she orders, banging her gavel to signify the end of the hearing.
As we’re led out to process the bond payment, I catch sight of Noah in the hallway, his face flushed with anger. Our eyes meet briefly, and I see a promise in his. This isn’t over.
But for now, we’ve won the first round. And as I think about getting home to Atlee, explaining what’s happened, and reassuring her that everything will be okay, I find myself feeling strangely calm.
There are still battles ahead, still a war to be fought against Noah and the Morrisons.
But for the first time since this all began, I believe we might actually win it.
Because now we’re fighting on our terms, not theirs, and that makes all the difference in the world.