39. Arizona
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Arizona
Red’s arguing with the paramedic before I even make it across the first aid tent. “I’m fine.”
The medic doesn’t look impressed as he reaches for Red’s hand again. “The last three patients told me that, and they were wrong.”
I catch Red’s wrist before he can pull away again, earning myself a grateful look from the exhausted paramedic.
“Emmett and Willy are okay,” I tell him. “They’re helping clear the grandstands, and you’re bleeding all over your boots.”
His attention shifts to me instead of the blood running over his knuckles, and I know exactly what he’s looking at because he’s checked the same places half a dozen times since he dragged me away from Travis.
The scrape across my temple. The bruises creeping beneath my sleeve. The marks circling my neck.
“You hit your head.”
“I’ve survived worse.”
His thumb brushes the side of my neck before he finally gives in, letting the medic guide his hand away so the torn skin can be cleaned and wrapped.
I settle onto an overturned feed bucket outside the tent while they work, unable to sit still even though every muscle in my body argues otherwise.
Deputies weave between bent fencing and overturned chairs while volunteers carry broken rails away from the arena. Ranch hands move through the holding pens, calming restless horses that keep tossing their heads as if they’re wondering why the evening unraveled.
I stare at the section of collapsed fencing until my stomach twists.
If Emmett and Willy hadn’t cleared people out when they did, tonight would’ve ended with ambulances instead of applause.
Across the grounds, Travis sits against Sheriff Hank’s patrol truck with his hands cuffed behind his back. Blood drips from his nose onto his shirt, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
His eyes stay locked on Red, burning with the same bitterness I saw beneath the arena.
Some people spend so long blaming everyone else that they stop recognizing the person responsible when they catch their own reflection.
Sheriff Hank closes his notebook after speaking with one of the deputies and walks toward us. “Travis Mercer is headed to County,” he says. “He’ll be there a while.”
Red doesn’t react. “What about Beau?”
Hank glances toward the livestock trailers.
Beau sits on the tailgate with his elbows resting on his knees while another deputy stands nearby. He looks smaller than I remember, like the truth has finally caught up with him and squeezed every excuse out of his body.
“He talked.”
Red’s jaw tightens.
“Started as soon as Travis turned on him. Says Travis came to him months ago with money. Beau gave him access to the ranch, passed along schedules, left gates open, and helped him get where he wasn’t supposed to be.”
Every accident we’ve spent weeks trying to explain falls into place.
The snapped cinch strap, the gate that nearly crushed a rider, the trailer fire, the drugged bronc, and the missing equipment all trace back to the same source.
Every time we wondered how Travis stayed one step ahead of us, Beau had already told him where we’d be.
“He admitted all of it?” I ask.
“He admitted enough,” Hank says. “Claims he figured Travis wanted to scare Red, wreck a few rides, maybe damage the ranch’s reputation. Says he never expected anybody to die.”
A rough laugh escapes Red. “Easy thing to say now.”
“It won’t change what he did,” Hank replies. “He’s cooperating because he understands what’s waiting for him.”
I look back toward Beau. He ate dinner with these men, worked beside them every day, and stood beside them while he helped Travis tear this place apart.
Every memory I’ve replayed over the past few weeks looks different now.
The paramedic finishes wrapping Red’s hand, and I slip my fingers through his before he can pull away again.
“It’s over,” I say. “He won’t get close to you again.”
Red looks at me, and the worry in his eyes hits harder than anything Travis managed beneath that arena. “He got close to you.”
“I know.”
His hand closes around mine with surprising care, protecting the fresh bandage as much as my fingers.
A familiar voice cuts through the noise before I can get lost in my own thoughts. “Arizona!”
I barely have time to turn before Sadie races across the dirt, one braid hanging halfway out while her pink cowboy boots throw dust behind her.
She crashes into me hard enough to rock the feed bucket beneath me, then wraps both arms around my waist and hangs on like she’s scared I’ll disappear if she lets go.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, sliding a hand over the back of her head.
She buries her face against my shirt. “I thought…”
My chest tightens. “I’m okay.”
She tips her head back just enough to study my face, her eyes glassy from tears she fought all the way over here. “You said you’d stay where it was safe.”
“I thought I was.”
A sad little shrug accompanies the words, and it hits me harder than any bruise Travis left behind.
Behind her, Emmett reaches us with Willy beside him.
Emmett looks like he’s gone three rounds with the arena. One shoulder of his shirt has ripped open, dirt streaks across his sleeve, and a bruise has already spread beneath his cheekbone.
Willy’s left forearm is wrapped in fresh white gauze, and somebody somehow managed to leave the bright orange participant wristband sitting over the bandage like it belongs there.
“You two clean up terribly,” I say.
Willy glances down at himself before brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “I was going for rugged.”
“You overshot.”
“I hate when that happens.”
Despite everything, his grin pulls the corner of my mouth upward.
Emmett doesn’t smile. His eyes move over my face, stopping on the scrape near my temple before drifting lower to the bruises already blooming across my arms. “You hurt?”
“My head hurts, my neck’s going to complain tomorrow, and Travis owes me a shirt.”
“I’ll bill him,” Willy says. “Might take a few years to collect.”
Emmett barely hears him. “You sure you’re okay?”
I reach out and squeeze his arm. “I’m still standing.”
He searches my face another beat before finally exhaling, and it sounds like the breath’s been trapped inside him since the fencing gave way. “Good.”
Red steps forward and claps Emmett’s shoulder. “You got everybody out.”
Emmett looks toward the arena where volunteers stack broken lumber while another crew crawls over the damaged supports. “It could’ve gone another way.”
Nobody argues.
We all know how close tonight came to becoming a story this town would’ve carried forever.
Willy scratches the back of his neck before looking around at the rest of us. “Since everybody’s determined to brood, I’d like credit for rescuing Mrs. Parker’s emotional support casserole.”
I blink. “Her casserole?”
“It was sitting all alone.”
Red folds his arms. “You carried a cooler.”
“It contained the casserole.”
Sadie giggles.
The sound breaks through the heaviness hanging over all of us, and I catch Willy watching her from the corner of his eye before he looks away again.
That’s what he does. He finds the crack before anybody else notices it and wedges a joke inside, giving everyone enough room to breathe without pretending nothing happened.
Sheriff Hank returns with another deputy carrying a folder thick enough to make me wonder how paperwork multiplies so fast.
“The structural crew finished another inspection,” the deputy says. “Damage is limited to that section. The rest of the arena’s solid.”
Hank nods once before looking at Red. “We’ve got photographs, tools, Beau’s statement, and enough messages between him and Travis to keep both of them busy for a long time.”
The patrol cars pull through the rodeo gates, their flashing lights fading down the highway, and the grounds fall into an uneasy silence until Sammy Brooks climbs onto the announcer’s stand and reaches for the microphone.
“Tonight could’ve ended very differently,” he says. “It didn’t because a whole lot of people refused to let it.” He gestures toward the volunteers rebuilding the fence. “Let’s finish this rodeo the way Colter Creek always does.”
Applause rolls across the grandstands, growing louder as more people join in. Deputies tip their hats. The paramedics exchange tired smiles. Ranch hands carrying broken rails pause long enough to acknowledge the crowd before getting back to work.
Beside me, Red looks ready to climb onto another bronc if it means escaping the attention. Emmett rubs the back of his neck, looking equally uncomfortable, while Willy gives the grandstands an elaborate bow.
“I’d like everybody to remember I also saved a perfectly innocent casserole,” he says. “Recognition comes in the form of pie.”
Red huffs a laugh. “There’s the Kane we know.”
“I was afraid responsibility had ruined my reputation.”
Even Emmett smiles.
Within the hour, crews rope off the damaged section of arena, vendors reopen their stands, and families drift back toward the seats.
Word spreads across Colter Creek faster than any advertisement could ever accomplish. Instead of staying home, people from neighboring towns keep arriving, determined not to let Travis Mercer become the story anyone remembers about this championship weekend.
Pickups continue rolling through the entrance, and by the time the next event starts, the grandstands are fuller than they were before everything happened.
Colter Creek refuses to let fear steal its rodeo.
I step away from the arena while the next riders get ready, weaving through the food stalls until Annie catches up carrying two lemonades, with Dakota and Abilene close behind.
“We figured you’d wander off,” Annie says, handing me a cup.
Dakota balances Olivia against her hip while Charlie races around Clint’s legs nearby, still buzzing with enough energy to power the whole town.
“You scared us,” Abilene says, resting a hand across her stomach.
“I scared myself.”
Annie studies the scrape on my temple before shaking her head. “You also scared three cowboys into shaving years off their lives.”
“They’ll survive.”
“I wouldn’t bet on it.”
Dakota smiles as she glances toward the arena. “They’ve spent weeks trying to convince themselves they weren’t falling for you. Today made that argument impossible.”
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “I still don’t know what we’re doing.”
Abilene follows my gaze toward Marshall, Wyatt, Jesse, and the others gathered near the chutes. “Neither did we. You don’t figure this kind of life out before you live it.”
“I’ve never stayed anywhere long enough to try.”
Annie bumps my shoulder, but Dakota studies me for another second before she smiles.
“You stopped talking about your next stop,” she says. “When we met, I know you were always on the move. You haven’t mentioned leaving in ages.”
Annie grins. “Maybe that’s because she already found where she’s supposed to be.”
I look across the grounds.
Willy has Sadie wearing one of his oversized clown hats while he pretends to stumble around searching for it, making her laugh so hard she nearly falls over.
Emmett watches them with that soft smile he only gets around his daughter, and Red stands at the fence talking with Clint, his bandaged hand hooked over the top rail while the lines around his eyes finally ease.
I look back across the rodeo grounds as families settle into the grandstands and the last of the volunteers finish clearing away the damaged fencing. Nobody’s watching every stranger who walks past anymore.
The town has already started putting the day behind it and getting back to the rodeo.
A few weeks ago, Colter Creek would’ve been another stop, another stage, and another place I’d leave before anyone expected me to stay.
Now I know Betty Lou always saves the best pie for whoever arrives last, Willy sings off-key because Sadie laughs every time, Emmett forgets to buy creamer often enough that black coffee has become a habit, and Red walks the ranch after dark whenever he needs to think.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped collecting places and started collecting people.
My phone buzzes. Daisy.
I answer with a smile.
“You planning to explain why half my social media feed is rodeo videos?” she asks.
I laugh. “Already?”
“Word travels fast. You okay?”
I look toward Dusty Spur, where Red laughs at one of Willy’s stories while Emmett steadies Sadie on his hip as she points excitedly toward the arena.
Annie slips through the crowd with her camera raised, Dakota and Abilene talk beside the fence, and Charlie tears past them before anyone can catch him.
“I am.”
Daisy is quiet for a beat before she asks, “So… when’s the next town?”
I watch Sadie spot me across the grounds and throw both arms into the air. I wave back without thinking, and her grin spreads so wide it makes me smile right along with her.
“I don’t know,” I tell Daisy. “I’ve always moved around, you know that.
A few weeks ago, I’d have packed my guitar, climbed into my truck, and headed for the next town before anyone had the chance to miss me.
Now, when I picture driving away, all I see are the people I’d be leaving behind. I just don’t know.”
Leaving doesn’t feel like freedom anymore.
It feels like leaving home.