36. Emmett
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Emmett
I pull the last stock trailer strap tight, test the buckle with both hands, then move around the rear axle to check the tires again before tomorrow’s finals.
A strong weekend puts Dusty Spur in front of people who book trail rides, hire trainers, and buy horses, which matters after weeks of damaged equipment and lost work.
One more accident could wipe out whatever the rodeo brings in, so every latch and strap gets checked twice, whether the ranch hands think I’m overdoing it or not.
The yard stays busy around me as feed sacks cross the gravel and horses move through the corrals, picking up on the strain running through the ranch.
Red walks the perimeter with a clipboard beneath one arm, testing every gate even though he finished the same job before breakfast. Since Arizona spotted Travis Mercer meeting Beau behind the practice arena, Red has checked the work himself and then checked whoever did it before him.
Willy carries a hay bale toward the barn while mangling an old country song badly enough that a gelding pins its ears.
“I’m with you,” I tell the horse as I secure the trailer compartment.
Willy drops the bale inside the barn and looks back at me. “You siding with livestock again?”
“They usually have better judgment.”
He studies the gelding, who keeps his ears flattened. “He looks like he wants to kick me.”
“He probably does.”
“I respect an animal willing to communicate clearly.”
He heads deeper into the barn without improving his singing, and I test the left brake light again because Travis only needs us to miss one weak spot.
Arizona’s truck turns into the yard before I finish.
She climbs out carrying a cardboard tray of coffee, and Willy reappears so fast that he must have smelled it before she reached the ranch.
“I brought reinforcements,” she says.
Willy takes the largest cup. “I’ve always believed you were a woman of exceptional character.”
Arizona passes him the cup before he can steal another. “Your exceptional judgment proposed to Carrie Jo with pie in your mouth.”
“I offered her stability.”
“You were standing on one foot.”
“I was committed enough to stay upright.”
She laughs as she carries the remaining coffee toward me, and the sound eases the tightness across my shoulders.
“I figured breakfast got forgotten,” she says.
I accept the cup. “Thank you.”
Her attention moves over the trailers beside the barn. “How long have you been checking these?”
“Long enough to know both brake lights still work.”
The amusement fades from her face as she studies the equipment. “Do you think Travis will try anything tomorrow?”
“I’d be surprised if he didn’t.”
The answer wipes away what remains of her smile because a crowded rodeo gives Travis the audience he wants, along with plenty of ways to hurt Red and everyone connected to him.
Red whistles from across the yard before we can say more. “Inside in five.”
Arizona falls into step beside me as we cross toward the house. Everyone moves differently now, checking doors before walking away and watching the tree line whenever a vehicle slows near the ranch.
Nobody talks about it around Sadie, but every person here knows Travis is still out there—and Beau gave him access to places he never should have reached.
Sheriff Hank Miller sits at the kitchen table when we enter, a folder open in front of him and his hat resting near the security plans.
“We’ll have deputies covering the entrances,” he says once we gather around him. “There’ll be patrols overnight, officers near the chutes, and another team watching the parking areas through the finals.”
Red folds his arms. “Any sign of Mercer?”
“We’re following two reports from neighboring towns, but neither one has put him in Colter Creek.”
“He’ll be here,” Red says. “He didn’t spend weeks tearing into this ranch so he could miss the finish.”
Arizona braces her hands on the table. “Then I stay close to you.”
Red turns toward her. “You stay with one of us all day.”
“I was already planning to.”
“I need you to take this seriously.”
Her gaze holds his. “I am.”
Hank taps the security map before their argument can grow. “Everyone stays with a partner, checks in before changing locations, and calls me if anything looks wrong. Nobody follows a hunch alone.”
His eyes settle on Arizona as he finishes.
She raises her brows. “You can look at Willy too.”
Willy takes a drink from his coffee. “I’m offended that you think I’d ignore professional advice.”
Hank glances at the fading bruise along Willy’s jaw. “You climbed into a stock pen last month because you thought a bull looked lonely.”
“He did.”
Hank turns back to the map without answering, which ends the discussion faster than Red could have managed.
He assigns each of us an area of the rodeo grounds and marks the locations where deputies will stay through the finals. I follow every instruction, but part of my attention remains fixed on the risk nobody can map.
Travis knows the rodeo circuit, understands how Red reacts under pressure, and has already proven he’ll hurt anyone standing nearby to get what he wants.
By tomorrow evening, the arena will be packed, Sadie will be watching from the stands, and Arizona will be moving between the performance area and the chutes.
Every person I care about will be inside the place Travis has chosen for his final move.
The meeting ends once Hank finishes the assignments. Red walks outside with him to inspect the trailers, while Willy starts opening cupboards despite eating a breakfast burrito before sunrise.
Arizona gathers the empty mugs from the table.
“You brought the coffee,” I tell her as I collect the folder Hank left for me. “That should excuse you from cleaning.”
She stacks two cups. “I don’t remember agreeing to fair working conditions.”
“I’ve noticed.”
She carries the mugs toward the sink. “Besides, I know where everything goes.”
She does, and that realization follows me as I put the security folder near the refrigerator.
Arizona knows which cupboard holds the coffee and which barn door sticks after rain. She knows Sadie needs two songs when she’s tired, although she always asks for three, and she understands that Willy gets louder when he’s worried because silence gives him too much room to think.
Sadie’s drawings cover the refrigerator, including one where all of us stand outside the barn while Arizona holds a guitar nearly as tall as she is.
Sadie taped it up herself and refused to move Arizona from the middle when I suggested the picture might fit better another way.
The back door opens, and Sadie runs across the kitchen before I can spend too long studying it. She stops by Arizona and takes her hand.
“Can we make pancakes?”
Arizona looks at the paperwork spread across the table before turning to me. “Do we have time?”
I should say no because Red expects me back outside and half the equipment still needs loading, but Sadie keeps looking between us with optimism.
“We have enough time,” I tell her.
She cheers and drags Arizona toward the counter before either of us can change our minds.
A few minutes later, Sadie stands on a chair stirring batter while Arizona keeps the bowl from sliding across the counter. Flour covers the front of Sadie’s shirt, and a streak of batter runs down Arizona’s sleeve after Sadie lifts the spoon too fast.
“I’m helping,” Sadie says.
Arizona wipes at the batter and spreads it farther. “You’ve made sure nobody can question that.”
Sadie grins and returns to stirring while I heat the pan.
Watching Arizona with her should feel familiar by now, but the sight still catches me in places I’d rather keep protected.
Arizona listens to every story Sadie tells, reminds her to wipe her hands before reaching into the drawer, and answers each question as though the rest of the ranch can wait.
For several minutes, the kitchen feels separate from everything outside.
Then a truck reduces its speed near the ranch entrance.
I turn toward the window and follow it until the driver continues down the road without pulling in. Arizona notices the movement and meets my eyes across the counter, but neither of us mentions it in front of Sadie.
By the time the pancakes are ready, Willy wanders in and reaches for one before I set down the platter.
I catch his wrist. “You could wait until everyone sits down.”
He tears off the edge anyway. “I’m checking whether they’re safe for consumption.”
“That excuse gets worse every time.”
“I’m committed to public service.”
Sadie shakes her head. “Uncle Willy, you’re silly.”
He carries the stolen piece toward the table. “That’s why they pay me.”
“They pay you to get chased by bulls,” I tell him.
“Comedy has always been underfunded.”
Arizona laughs as she pours coffee, but the conversation ends once we settle around the table. Sadie eats half a pancake before looking across at her.
“Are you staying after the rodeo?”
Arizona pauses with her cup near her mouth.
“If you stay, you can come to my school show next month,” Sadie continues. “I get to sing about trees.”
Arizona lowers the cup. “That sounds like a very important performance.”
“It is, because I stand near the front.” Sadie takes another bite before returning to her question. “Will you come?”
Arizona glances toward me, and I can’t answer that for her.
“I don’t know yet,” she tells Sadie. “I like being here, though.”
Sadie pushes her fork through the syrup. “Mommy said she might come tomorrow.”
My grip tightens around my coffee cup.
Tori hasn’t told me she plans to attend the finals. Her last message came three days ago, when she promised to call Sadie after dinner and disappeared before bedtime without an explanation.
“When did she tell you?” I ask.
“When she was here.”
Of course she did, because making promises as she’s halfway out the door means nobody can ask when she intends to keep them.
Sadie keeps her eyes on her plate. “She said she might see my shiny horse shirt.”
Arizona reaches across and wipes syrup from Sadie’s chin. “I remember that shirt.”
“Mommy likes sparkly clothes.” Sadie forces a smile before cutting another piece of pancake. “Maybe she’ll like mine.”
I’ve seen the same expression after canceled weekends and missed calls, when Sadie decides she has to act fine because admitting she’s hurt might make the disappointment worse.
Each time, I tell myself she’s young enough to recover and Tori deserves another chance to do better. Sadie pays for every chance I give her.
She finishes her pancake, carries the plate to the counter, then heads toward the back door. “I’m going to brush the horses.”
“I’ll come out soon,” I tell her.
Sadie nods without looking back before stepping into the yard.
Willy watches her cross toward the barn, and the joke he usually reaches for never comes.
“I’ll go with her,” he says as he collects his plate.
He follows her outside, leaving Arizona and me alone with the security papers and the remains of breakfast.
Arizona carries her plate to the sink. “I’m sorry.”
I turn on the water beside her. “You didn’t make Tori promise anything.”
“I still hate that Sadie asked me to stay when I can’t give her an answer.”
“She’d rather hear the truth than another false promise.”
Arizona dries the plate after I pass it over, but she keeps her attention on the dish towel in her hands.
“I’ve spent most of my life leaving before people expected me to stay,” she says as she places the plate in the cupboard. “They ask when I’m coming back, but nobody’s ever included me in plans that haven’t happened yet.”
I shut off the water and turn toward her. “You matter to people here.”
Her eyes rise to mine, and I rub the back of my neck when I realize how much the words reveal.
“Sadie won’t be the only one who misses you,” I add.
Arizona studies me, and the distance between us feels smaller than the space should allow, but Red calls her name from the yard before she answers.
She looks toward the door. “I’d better help him.”
“I need to finish loading too.”
Her fingers brush my forearm as she passes. “I’ll see you outside.”
I watch her cross the yard toward Red before I return to the window.
Sadie stands beside Whiskey with a brush in one hand while Willy leans across the stall door, making faces until she smiles. Arizona changes direction when she sees them and walks over, and Sadie lifts her hand before telling her whatever Willy has done wrong.
The scene should ease the anger building inside me, but all I can see is the way Sadie stared at her plate when she said Tori might come.
Tori always uses wording vague enough to excuse her if she changes her mind. I’ve allowed her to do it for years because I keep hoping the next visit will be the one where she finally understands that parenting can’t depend on what fits around the rest of her life.
Keeping the door open has stopped helping Sadie, though.
Tori returns with apologies whenever guilt catches up with her, then disappears once being a mother asks more of her than a pleasant afternoon.
I’ve accepted every excuse because Sadie deserves the chance to know her, but knowing Tori shouldn’t mean waiting beside a window for someone who may never arrive.
I look through the glass as Arizona crouches beside Sadie to examine the brush in her hand. Willy says something that earns him a shove from both of them, and Whiskey nudges Sadie’s shoulder until she laughs.
Sadie needs people who remember her plans without being chased, and she needs adults who keep their word when the promise matters more to her than it does to them.
After the rodeo, I’m calling the lawyer.
Revisiting custody will bring arguments, paperwork, and every accusation Tori can find, but avoiding the fight means Sadie keeps absorbing the damage.
Tori can agree to a schedule and follow it, or the arrangement changes enough that Sadie no longer builds her weeks around visits that vanish without warning.
I won’t keep protecting Tori from consequences while my daughter learns to hide how much she hurts.