Chapter 23 Atlee
TWENTY-THREE
ATLEE
The pharmacy is unusually busy today. It seems like everybody who lives in Grizzly River has suddenly developed a need for cold medicine, vitamins, or prescription refills.
But I’m not na?ve enough to think it’s coincidental, not with the way they’re all looking at me, offering small smiles or nods of acknowledgment that go beyond the usual small-town friendliness.
Mrs. Henderson, who is picking up her blood pressure medication, lingers at the counter after I hand her the white paper bag.
“Your young man,” she says, her voice lowered conspiratorially. “He’s got real courage, that one.”
I blink, caught off guard. “I’m sorry?”
“Devlin,” she clarifies, as if I might be confused about which “young man” she means. “Standing up to the Morrisons like that. My Harold always said someone needed to put Richard in his place, but nobody had the guts. Until now.”
“Oh,” I say, unsure how to respond. “Well, thank you.”
She pats my hand, her arthritic fingers surprisingly strong. “You hold on to him, dear. Men like that don’t come along every day.”
As she shuffles away, I catch Payton watching me from where she’s restocking the shelves, a knowing smirk on her face.
“What was that about?” I ask once Mrs. Henderson is out of earshot.
Payton abandons her task, coming over to lean against the counter. “You really don’t know? It’s all anyone in town is talking about.”
My stomach tightens. “The arrests?” Or is the article that I have to pretend like I know nothing about?
“No. Well…yes, that too, but mostly the article.” She reaches behind the counter, producing a copy of the Grizzly River Gazette that I hadn’t noticed before. “Front page.”
I take the paper, my eyes immediately drawn to the bold headline.
“Morrison Land Grab Threatens County Water Rights.”
Beneath it is a detailed exposé about Project Watershed, how Richard Morrison and his family have been systematically buying up land around the county’s water sources, and positioning themselves to control who gets water access and at what price.
The article quotes anonymous sources close to the investigation, detailing not just the land purchases but also backroom deals with county officials, including Deputy Noah Sanchez, who reportedly helped pressure reluctant landowners to sell.
“Oh my god, it actually came out,” I breathe in a whisper, scanning through the damning accusations. No wonder the town is buzzing.
“Yeah,” Payton says, a hint of admiration in her voice. “And word is, your boyfriend and his brothers are the ones who exposed it all. Got arrested for their trouble too.”
“That’s why everyone’s been looking at me like that,” I realize, thinking back on the parade of customers who’ve passed through today, each with a knowing look or encouraging word.
“You’re dating a local hero,” Payton confirms. “How does it feel?”
I’m not sure how to answer that. Pride swells in my chest at the thought of Devlin standing up to the Morrisons, risking everything to protect the other ranchers. But fear coils alongside it. This is all out in the open now.
“It feels…” I search for the right word. “Complicated.”
Payton laughs. “I bet. Well, brace yourself, because you’ve got another admirer incoming.”
I look up to see Mr. Daniels, who owns the hardware store down the street, approaching the counter with a prescription slip in hand.
“Atlee,” he greets me, his weathered face creasing into a smile. “How’s that man of yours holding up after yesterday? Damned travesty, those arrests.”
And so it goes for the rest of the morning. By lunchtime, I’ve stopped being surprised by it and started accepting their well-wishes with simple gratitude.
“You tell Devlin that we’re behind him all the way,” Ellie Travers says as she picks up her son’s asthma medication. “My husband is already talking about organizing the other ranchers. We’re not letting the Morrisons get away with this water grab.”
“I’ll tell him,” I promise, touched by how quickly the town has rallied.
When there’s finally a lull in customers, I text Devlin again after he checked on me earlier.
Me
Everyone at the pharmacy has read the article. You’ve got a lot of supporters in town. Even Mrs. Henderson called you courageous, and she doesn’t impress easily.
Devlin
Glad to hear it. Stay alert, though. Noah won’t take this lying down.
The warning sends a chill through me, but I push aside the fear. I refuse to let Noah Sanchez dictate how I live my life.
“You must be very proud,” Reverend Miller says as I ring up his allergy medication.
And I realize with a start that I am. Fiercely, unequivocally proud to be with a man who stands up for what’s right, even when it’s dangerous. Even when it comes at a personal cost.
“Yes,” I tell the reverend, a smile spreading across my face. “I am.”
He nods approvingly. “Good. He’ll need that pride and belief in the days ahead. The Morrisons won’t surrender easily.”
The reminder of the battle still to come sobers me, but doesn’t diminish the warmth in my chest. Whatever happens next, Devlin won’t face it alone. He has me, he has his brothers, and now, it seems, he has most of Grizzly River standing behind him too.
As closing time approaches, I start the end-of-day routine. Payton has already left, her shift ending an hour before mine. I’m alone in the pharmacy section, the store quiet around me as the last few shoppers finish their business in the grocery section.
I check my phone, seeing a message from Devlin.
Devlin
Running a bit late. Wait inside for me?
I text him back.
Me
Will do.
I get back to finishing closing procedures. The quiet is peaceful after the busy day, giving me time to process everything that’s happened. In just a few weeks, my life has transformed completely. I went from someone who didn’t know if they’d ever find love to finding it and being happy with it.
I’m so absorbed in my thoughts that I don’t immediately register the bell above the door chiming, signaling someone’s entrance. It’s only when I hear the gasps and startled exclamations from the few remaining customers that I look up.
My blood freezes in my veins.
Noah Sanchez stands in the doorway, his uniform rumpled, his face flushed with what might be anger or alcohol or both. But it’s not his disheveled appearance that stops my heart. It’s the gun in his hand, pressed against Carson’s temple.
“Everyone stay calm,” Noah announces, his voice carrying through the suddenly silent store. “This is official police business.”
Carson’s eyes find mine, wide with fear but also a warning. His hands are zip-tied in front of him, his lip bleeding from what looks like a recent blow.
“Noah,” I say carefully, stepping out from behind the pharmacy counter. “What are you doing?”
His gaze snaps to me, and there’s something unhinged in his eyes that terrifies me more than the gun. “Atlee Walsh,” he says, almost conversationally. “Just the woman I was hoping to see.”
He shoves Carson forward, keeping the gun trained on him as they move further into the store.
The few customers have pressed themselves against the walls, trying to become invisible.
All except one, a teenager who’s holding up his cell phone, the telltale red recording light visible from where I stand.
“You,” Noah barks, noticing the boy. “What are you doing?”
The teenager flinches but doesn’t lower his phone. “L-live streaming,” he stammers. “For my Insta.”
Something shifts in Noah’s expression, a calculated gleam replacing the wild look. “Perfect,” he says, surprising us all. “Keep that camera rolling, kid. I want everyone to see this.”
He turns back to me, gesturing with the gun. “Come here, Atlee. Nice and slow.”
Every instinct screams at me to run, but I can’t leave Carson. I move forward cautiously, hands raised to show I’m not a threat. “Noah, think about what you’re doing. This isn’t going to solve anything.”
“Shut up,” he snaps, grabbing my arm when I get close enough. He pulls me roughly against his side, the gun now alternating between pointing at Carson and me. “Both of you, over by the window where everyone can see us.”
We comply, moving to the large front window that faces the main street. Through the glass, I can see people stopping on the sidewalk, pointing, some already on their phones, calling the police, I hope. Though what good that will do when the threat is a deputy himself, I don’t know.
“Noah,” Carson tries, his voice admirably steady despite the circumstances. “You’re making this worse for yourself.”
“Worse?” Noah laughs, the sound brittle and harsh. “How could it get worse? I’m already finished in this town after that article. Suspended pending investigation.” He spits the words like they taste foul. “Twenty years on the force, and they suspend me on the word of a bunch of cattle thieves.”
His grip on my arm tightens painfully, and I wince. “You can still walk away from this,” I tell him. “No one’s been hurt yet. You could—”
“I said shut up,” he cuts me off, jerking me closer. To the boy with the phone, he says, “Make sure you’re getting all this, kid. I want Devlin Nelson to see exactly what’s happening here.”
My heart sinks. This is about Devlin. Of course it is.
“Hey, Nelson!” Noah shouts, clearly playing to the camera now. “You seeing this? Your girlfriend and your brother, right here with me. How does it feel knowing I can take everything from you, just like you took everything from me?”
The desperation in his voice is palpable, the bitterness of a man who feels he has nothing left to lose. Those are the most dangerous people—the ones with no exit strategy, no reason to de-escalate.
“If you’re watching this,” Noah continues, addressing the phone. “You have thirty minutes to get here. You and everyone else who’s plotted against me, or things are going to get very unpleasant for these two.” He nudges the gun against my ribs for emphasis. “Clock’s ticking, fucker.”
The boy with the phone looks terrified but keeps recording, the red light a steady beacon in the chaos.
“Please,” I say quietly, trying one more time to reach whatever rationality might be left in Noah. “You don’t have to do this. Whatever happened between you and Devlin is in the past.”
“You don’t know anything about it,” Noah hisses, his face inches from mine. “About what he took from me.”
“Then tell me,” I urge, hoping to keep him talking, to humanize myself in his eyes. “Help me understand.”
For a moment, I think he might actually explain, might give me some insight into the hatred that’s driven him to this desperate act. But then his expression hardens again.
“Nice try,” he says coldly. “But I’m not falling for your psychological tricks. You just stand there and look pretty for the camera. Your boyfriend will be here soon enough.”
My stomach twists at the thought of Devlin walking into this trap. He will come. I know he will as surely as I know my own name. Nothing could keep him away, knowing I’m in danger, and his brothers will be right beside him.
Which is exactly what Noah is counting on.
“What’s your endgame here, Noah?” Carson asks, voice low. “You think you can take on all the Nelsons? Even if you manage it, the whole town will be after you.”
Noah’s laugh is hollow. “You think I care about that anymore? I’ve got nothing left. My career is over. My reputation is ruined. Might as well go out making sure Devlin Nelson pays for what he did.”
The single-minded focus of his vendetta would be almost admirable if it weren’t so terrifying. This isn’t about justice or even the law anymore. This is personal—the kind of hatred that consumes everything in its path.
I glance at the boy with the phone, wondering if the livestream has reached Devlin yet and if he’s watching this unfold in real-time. I hope not. I hope he’s busy, his phone forgotten in his truck while he works. I hope he doesn’t see me like this, held at gunpoint because of my connection to him.
But even as I think it, I know it’s a futile hope. Devlin will come, and when he does, Noah will be waiting, gun in hand and revenge in his heart.
All I can do is stay calm, stay alert, and look for any opportunity to change the outcome of this confrontation. Because I refuse to be the reason Devlin walks into a bullet. I refuse to be Noah’s instrument of revenge.
Outside, the street has cleared, people taking cover in nearby stores or behind parked cars. Someone must have called in the situation because I can hear sirens in the distance. But will they arrive in time? And who will respond if not Noah and his deputies?
“Hear that?” I say, nodding toward the sound. “That’s backup coming. The sheriff, probably. You still have time to end this peacefully.”
Noah’s grip tightens again, the barrel of the gun pressing painfully into my side. “Shut. Up.”
I fall silent, catching Carson’s eye across the small space between us. There’s a silent communication there, a promise that we’ll get through this, that we’ll find a way out. I hold on to that promise as the minutes tick by, as the sirens draw closer, and as we wait for whatever comes next.
Because one thing is certain. Devlin is coming, and when he arrives, everything will change.