CHAPTER 3 DALLAS
DALLAS
Sadie tucked the folders under her arm and squared her shoulders like she was about to enter the ring with a world heavyweight champion.
I knew that look. I'd seen it when a rancher questioned her call on delivering a breech calf, and also every time one of the Hollister men talked over her or downplayed her advice.
I wanted to reach out and touch her. To brush the hair away from her forehead or pull her into my arms and tell her she didn't have to handle this alone.
Knowing Sadie, she'd think that was my way of telling her she couldn't handle this mess. She needed me to be steady, not coddle her.
So I did what I'd been doing for years. I kept my hands to myself and buried the feelings I wasn’t allowed to have.
“Let's find Cody,” she said. “I want to see what he remembers about the intake process.”
I nodded and followed her out of the stock office into the late afternoon heat.
The rodeo grounds felt different. Not dangerous exactly, but watchful, like everyone was on edge and waiting to see what cracked first.
The Fourth of July event was three days out, and the entire town had shown up to help.
Vendors stretched canvas over metal frames, arguing about which side faced the sun.
A teenager dragged a coil of bunting across the dirt, trailing red and blue fabric in his wake.
Someone tested the announcer mic and feedback shrieked through the speakers before it cut off with a sharp pop.
Horses shifted in the pens, their tails swishing at persistent flies. The air smelled like dust and hay and fried dough from the funnel cake food truck that had rolled in early to claim the prime spot near the main gate.
People moved through it all with the kind of practiced chaos that came from doing this multiple times a season all over the state of Montana, but I felt their eyes on us, especially on Sadie.
A woman carrying a stack of programs glanced over, her expression shifting from neutral to curious the second she saw the folders under Sadie's arm. Two men unloading barrels paused mid-lift, watching us pass.
Some looked at her with respect. Others just wanted a good story to tell later.
And some were already wondering why Hollister stock was being questioned.
That was the real pressure. Not Holt. Not the forged certifications. The town was watching.
Sadie kept her chin up and her stride even, but the tension crackled in the air around her.
We passed the main arena, where her brother Tanner stood near the gate talking to Waverly Kincaid.
Waverly had her arms crossed, her green eyes sharp as she listened to whatever Tanner was saying.
He looked calm, the way he always did, but there was tension in his shoulders.
Maybe because the town hadn’t quite figured out what to make of the two of them getting together.
Waverly caught sight of us and lifted her chin in acknowledgment. Tanner turned, his gaze settling on Sadie for a long beat.
He didn't call her over, but the way his brows arched meant he was aware there was something going on.
Sadie kept walking.
Near the holding pens, we found Cody Briggs checking water troughs, his hat pulled low against the sun. He straightened when he saw us coming and wiped his hands on his jeans.
“Sadie. Dallas.” He glanced at the folders, then back at her face. “I heard you pulled a steer.”
“He was lame,” Sadie said. “It was an old injury that somehow got overlooked. I'm checking the rest of the Hollister entries now.”
Cody's expression didn't change, but his shoulders pulled in half an inch. If he was in on this, I'd get it out of him one way or another.
“Need something from me?”
“The intake logs,” Sadie said. “I want to see what came in on which trailer.”
Cody hesitated. Then he nodded toward the stock barn. “They're in the office. But you already know what came in. Hollister stock, Kincaid stock, a few independent entries.”
“Who handled the Hollister unload?”
“Pritchard ran the gates and Holt told him where to put them all.” Cody's gaze slid toward the trailers parked along the far fence. “Some of the stock went into the north pens. The rest went to holding.”
“Did Holt say why he wanted certain animals separated?”
Cody went quiet.
Sadie waited.
I pulled myself up to my full height and crossed my arms over my chest, not pushing, just making my presence known.
Finally, Cody said, “He had a box with him and said some of the animals needed different paperwork.”
“What kind of box?”
“Cardboard. It looked old, like it had been sitting in storage somewhere. There was a label on the side.” He paused and bit down on the inside of his cheek like he was trying to remember. “Cedar something or other.”
Sadie froze, and my gut tightened at the name.
“Cedar Draw?” Sadie asked.
Cody shrugged. “Might have been.”
“What's Cedar Draw?” I asked.
“Something people around here don't talk about anymore.” Sadie let out a long sigh.
“Look, Sadie, I don't know what Holt's doing, and I don't want to know. But if you start asking around about it, you're gonna stir up things that are better left alone.” Cody shifted his weight, glancing past us toward the main gate.
“I'm asking about forged veterinary certifications,” Sadie said. “That's all.”
“In this town, one thing often leads to another.” Cody's jaw tightened. “I've got work to do.”
He walked away before either of us could respond.
“It figures. It all goes back to Cedar Draw.” Anyone looking at her wouldn't suspect she was rattled, but I saw the way her fingers tightened on the edge of the folders. I saw everything about her. That was the problem.
“You know it?” I asked.
“I've heard the name. It's an old livestock operation. But nobody ever talks about it.” She looked at me, her jaw clenched. “Why would Holt have a box labeled Cedar Draw?”
I didn't have an answer, but before I could say anything, a voice called out from behind us.
“Sadie.”
We both turned.
Tanner crossed the dirt toward us, his expression unreadable. When he reached us, he stopped a careful distance away, his hat shadowing his face.
“Are you really pulling Hollister stock three days before the Fourth?” he asked.
Sadie's shoulders tightened like she was ready for another battle. “If it's not sound, yes.”
Tanner studied her for a long moment. Then he nodded. “If it's wrong, pull it. I'll back you.”
Sadie blinked. Surprise flickered across her face, quick and unguarded, and under it something that looked almost like relief. She didn't know what to do with support that came from inside the family and that was a damn shame.
“Holt won't see it that way,” she said.
“Holt doesn't run the whole operation.” Tanner's voice stayed level. “And if someone's using our name to move bad stock, I want to know about it.”
He glanced at me, then back at Sadie.
“Waverly mentioned something earlier,” he said. “She and Morgan were going through old rodeo records a while back. Cedar Draw came up. I don't know why, but she remembered the name.”
Sadie leaned forward. “When?”
“A couple months ago. Before planning started on the Rodeo Royalty Weekend coming up next month.” He adjusted his hat. “Might be nothing. Might not. Just be careful.”
Sadie stared after him as he walked away, her jaw tight.
“Not every Hollister is Holt,” I said.
She looked at me, and for a second, I saw everything: the pressure, the expectations, and the choice she made every time she refused to look away.
“Everyone's going to think I'm trying to start a war.”
I shook my head. “You're trying to keep people safe.”
“That won't matter to some of them.”
“It'll matter to the ones worth listening to.”
She held my gaze a few seconds longer than necessary, long enough that I felt it low in my gut and had to remind myself what we were and what we weren't. Then she turned and started walking toward the shaded side of the stock barn.
I followed, stopping when she did near a water trough. Someone had left a cooler in the shade, and I pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to her.
She took it without thinking.
That was the thing about us. She didn't have to think around me. All she had to do was trust that I'd be there. And I always was.
Sadie drank half the bottle, then held it out and offered it to me. I shook my head and she shifted her gaze to the ground. Dust clung to her boots. A strand of hair had come loose from her braid and stuck to her cheek. I almost reached for that loose strand. My hand lifted, then I stopped.
What was I going to do, tuck her hair back like that was a normal thing for me to do? Like she was mine to touch?
I made myself study the fence rail instead.
Sadie looked at me, her brow furrowing. “Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Stop yourself.”
I didn't have an answer. Not one I could give her without changing everything. Because touching Sadie once wouldn't be enough. I'd spent years keeping my hands and my feelings to myself. Being her friend was the only piece of her I knew how to keep.
“Old habit,” I said.
Her eyes stayed on mine, searching for something I wasn't sure I could hide anymore. Then she looked away, her jaw tightening.
“I need to find that box,” she said.
“We need to find that box.” I wouldn't let her wade through shit in the past by herself.
“There's no we, Dallas. You don't have to get involved.” She tilted her head as she stared up at me.
I knew she meant it. Even after all these years, she didn't want to drag me into something that could have a negative impact on my reputation. What she didn't know was that I didn't give a fuck about what other people thought about me. She was the only one whose opinion mattered.
“I won't let you face this alone. That's what friends are for, right?” The smile I gave her held just the right amount of mischief and none of the heat that vibrated through my veins every time she was nearby.
“Friends, huh?” Her lips tipped up in a defeated grin.
I smiled back and swallowed the word like it didn't cost me anything.
Friends. That was all I would ever have with Sadie.
She was a shooting star, meant for greater things than helping local ranchers and working the local rodeo circuit.
One of these days she was going to get fed up with people questioning her and move on to somewhere she could do more good.
And I'd hold the gate open when she went. That was the job. That had always been the job.
She finished the water and we walked toward the stock office in silence.
The door was still propped open, and the folders we'd spread across the desk were exactly where we'd left them.
But the shelf on the wall, the one with the intake boxes and spare forms, looked different.
Sadie stopped in the doorway.
“There was a box there,” she said. “And I’d bet my family’s ranch that it was the one we’re looking for.”
I shook my head. Who moved that fast unless they had something to lose?
She stepped inside, moving to the shelf like she could will the box back into existence, but it wasn't there. Someone had already come for it. Which meant we weren't the only ones who knew it mattered.
Sadie turned, her face pale, her fingers curled tight around the edge of the folders she still carried. “Dallas.”
“I know.”
Her gaze met mine, steady and unflinching. “Someone's covering this up,” she said. “And they're doing it fast.”
I nodded. She was right. Whoever had taken that box knew we were close.