Chapter 34 Reid
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Reid
“How do you think it’ll go?”
We’ve hyped Clint up, let him know it’ll all go well, but I have to admit I’m actually a little worried. I just can’t help it.
Sawyer glances over at me, the usual calm in his eyes, but there’s something in his face that says he gets where I’m coming from.
This is huge. There’s no way it won’t at the very least be life-changing.
He takes a breath. “Honestly? I think they’ve got this. I mean, they both want to put Charlie first, and that’s the most important thing.”
“Yeah, but it’s not just about Charlie. It’s about everything else, too. Their past, all the mess with the ranch, hell, even us being here for them…”
With the way things have been recently, we can’t deny that this could very well have an impact on all of us.
The truck rounds the corner, and then I see it. The wreckage. The disaster.
The barn fire wasn’t enough for whoever’s messing with us.
Equipment is scattered across the yard, some of it crushed, others upended and twisted beyond recognition.
The once neat, orderly grounds are now a warzone.
The headlights catch the damage, highlighting every inch of destruction, and my stomach drops.
I slam the brakes, throwing the truck into park, but I don’t move. I can’t. Not yet.
Sawyer curses beside me, his usual calm shattered. “What the hell happened here?”
I don’t have an answer. I can’t even begin to process it all. The ranch, our home, has been violated. Ripped apart in a way that can’t be fixed.
I get out of the truck, boots hitting the dirt with a thud as I take in the devastation. This ranch, a symbol of everything we worked for, of everything we are, is now unrecognizable.
But it’s not just the buildings or the twisted equipment that gets to me. No. It’s the silence. No restless shifting in the pens. Just the wind whipping through the wreckage. And that’s when it hits me—the animals.
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.
They’re not here.
They’ve gotten loose in the mess.
Sawyer’s already out of the truck, scanning the damage with an unsettling calm. But even he knows we can’t waste any more time.
“We need to round them up.”
He’s right. The ranch animals are the heart of this place. Without them, we’re nothing.
They’re scattered, panicked, likely in danger of running into the road or getting tangled in the debris. They’re as much a part of this place as we are, and it’s our responsibility to get them back where they belong.
I head toward the run-in sheds, the smaller stables we use when the main barn’s full, moving fast, adrenaline kicking in. I don’t know how long we have before things get even worse. Before whoever did this decides to come back and finish the job.
I spot movement—a dark mass shifting near one of the pens.
“Got one!” I shout over my shoulder to Sawyer, who’s already halfway to the paddock, trying to calm a few of the horses.
I grab the nearest rope, looping it around the neck of a stubborn bull who’s pacing back and forth near the barn. His eyes are wild, and he’s snorting like a freight train.
It’s a dangerous situation. This bull could turn on us if we’re not careful.
The bull’s snorting grows louder, the force of his breath hot in the night as I struggle to keep the rope taut. His wild eyes lock onto me, and I feel the adrenaline surge, my heart racing in time with his frantic pace.
I can’t afford to back down. Not now.
“Easy, buddy,” I mutter, trying to calm myself, but the beast isn’t having any of it.
He bucks against the rope, dragging me a few steps before I can get a better grip. Behind me, I hear Sawyer as he moves to help with the horses, but I can’t take my eyes off the bull.
The ground beneath me feels unstable, broken wood and crushed equipment scattered. My boots sink into the dirt with every step, and the whole world’s sinking along with me.
“Reid! Get the bull in the pen now!” Sawyer calls.
The urgency in his tone snaps me back to reality, and with one final tug, I get the bull to move, heading him toward the pen. His stubborn resistance makes every second stretch to an eternity, but somehow, I get him settled.
I exhale a sharp breath, wiping the sweat from my forehead. My entire body is vibrating with tension, but I can’t let it show. There’s no time for panic.
I turn to check on Sawyer, who’s guiding the last of the horses back into the safety of the stable.
That’s when I remember. We still have to call the sheriff.
I pull out my phone, my hands a little shaky as I dial. The line rings once, then twice.
“This is Sheriff Miller,” comes the gravelly voice on the other end.
I take a deep breath. “Sheriff, it’s Reid Stone at High Ridge Ranch. We’ve got a problem.”
“I know, Reid. I already sent a team this morning.”
“It’s not about the fire.” I pause, my gaze scanning the wreckage once more. “The place has been ransacked. Broken fences, busted up equipment, and the animals. Some of them are loose. It’s bad, Sheriff. Real bad.”
There’s a long silence before the sheriff responds. “I’ll send a team out right away, Reid. Stay put. Don’t touch anything. We’ll need to assess the scene when we get there.”
“Understood,” I say, my stomach twisted in knots. “Just hurry.”
“I hear you,” Sheriff Miller responds. “We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
I hang up, but just as the call ends, I hear footsteps approaching. My chest tightens.
Clint.
I don’t know if I’m relieved or terrified to see him.
I turn back to Sawyer, who meets my gaze. Without a word, we both know: This is going to break him.
Clint storms toward us, his face twisted in shock, disbelief, and something darker that I can’t name.
He just stands there, frozen, taking in the wreckage around him. His hands are clenched into fists at his sides, his jaw tightening, and I can feel the storm building within him.
“This can’t be real.” Clint’s voice cracks. His breath comes in sharp bursts, chest heaving as his gaze flicks from one corner of the ranch to the next. “This can’t be happening.”
I want to go to him, to say something that will make it better. But there’s nothing I can say. Not right now.
Sawyer steps closer. “Clint, we called the sheriff. They’re on their way. We’ve got to hold it together until they get here, okay?”
But Clint isn’t hearing him. He turns toward us, his eyes wild, his voice growing louder, more frantic.
“This ranch is everything to me! It’s my family! Do you know how long I’ve worked for this? How many years I’ve spent building this place up just to have it torn down in one night?”