Sadie
By the time we got the brindle steer settled in quarantine, my hands had almost stopped shaking.
He stood in the shade with cool water at his feet, overheated and stressed but upright.
His injured leg still needed watching, but Dallas’s catch had kept a bad situation from turning into a disaster.
Nobody had been hurt. There was no loose stock in the middle of the rodeo royalty staging area.
We’d avoided a headline that would bury the rodeo before Mustang Mountain had even finished proving it could pull one off.
The Fourth of July Rodeo kept moving around us like nothing had happened.
The announcer called the next event. The crowd roared. Somewhere near the concession stand, Ruby Nelson was still clapping loud enough for three people.
But I couldn’t stop hearing Roy’s voice.
Those papers were old before your daddy was born.
I tugged my sleeve back down and checked the latch on the quarantine pen for the third time, even though Cody had already secured it. My body knew what to do. Work the problem in front of me. Check the animal. Give instructions. Keep moving.
My mind was still standing in the dirt near that trailer, trying to make sense of what Roy had said.
He wasn’t the beginning. He was just the man who’d gotten caught.
Dallas had been beside me through all of it.
Not in front of me. Not speaking over me.
Not deciding what I could handle. When the steer bolted, he’d moved fast, but he’d waited for my call after.
Held steady when I told him to. Let me do my job like he trusted I knew how. That was what I kept coming back to.
Every time the ground moved today, Dallas Miller had been right where I needed him. And I was running out of reasons to pretend I didn’t want him there for more than emergencies.
Holt found me twenty minutes later, after the deputy had arrived to take Roy’s statement and the rodeo had settled back into its rhythm.
He didn't say anything at first, just stood there, his hands on his hips, his face hard and unreadable.
I crossed my arms and waited.
“This will follow us,” he finally said.
“Then maybe we stop giving it something to follow.”
His jaw tightened. “You understand what walking away from Hollister work costs?”
“Yes.”
“Independence is expensive, Sadie.”
“So is obedience.” The words came out a little sharper than I'd intended, but I didn't take them back.
Holt's eyes narrowed. “You think you can make it on your own?”
“I don't know,” I said. “But I know I can't keep letting the Hollister name decide which calls I make.”
“You'll lose clients.”
“Maybe.”
“You'll lose protection.”
“I don't want protection, Holt. I want to do my job without wondering whose reputation I'm supposed to be covering for.”
He stared at me for a long moment, his face tight.
Then Tanner's voice cut in from behind him. “She's earned that.”
Holt turned, surprise flickering across his face before he buried it.
Tanner stepped forward, his gaze steady on mine. “You made the right call, Sadie. The hard one. But the right one.”
Holt looked between us, then back at me. “You're making a mistake.”
“Maybe.” I held his gaze, no longer afraid of what going against my uncle could cost me. “If so, it's my mistake to make.”
He opened his mouth like he wanted to argue, then closed it again. After a moment, he nodded once and walked away, his shoulders stiff.
I watched him go, my chest tight, my hands still shaking.
Then Dallas spoke from behind me. “What do you want?”
I turned. He was standing a few feet away, his hands loose at his sides, his gaze steady on mine. He didn’t ask what I needed or what he could do for me. What do you want?
The question almost undid me. Not because I didn't know. Because for once, no one was telling me what the answer should be.
“I want to finish the rodeo.” I let the words come slowly, testing each one.
He nodded.
“Then I want a shower,” I said.
His mouth twitched.
Once I started, I didn’t want to stop, so I kept going. “I want one day without Hollister drama.”
“That’s fair.” Dallas took a step toward me, his gaze never leaving mine.
“I want my own practice.”
He waited for me to continue. That was the thing about Dallas. He'd wait all night if I let him. He'd wait years. He already had.
“And I want you.” I stepped closer, close enough to see the way his pupils darkened, the way his jaw tightened, the way his hands flexed like he was stopping himself from reaching for me.
Still stopping himself. Even now. Even with the words hanging right there between us.
So I kept going, because one of us had to stop stopping.
“I want you,” I said again, softer this time. “Not because you're useful. Not because you showed up. Because you're steady. Because you stay. Because you never needed me to be smaller so you could feel strong.”
He took in a deep breath, his chest expanding with the effort.
“And because when the gate opens,” I whispered, “you're the one I look for.”
Dallas didn't move for a heartbeat. Then he reached for me, slow enough that I could have stepped away.
I didn't.
His hands settled at my waist, warm and careful and not careful at all, and he lowered his forehead to mine. “I've loved you longer than I had any right to,” he said, his voice low, his words for my ears alone.
“That wasn't your call either.”
His mouth curved, but his eyes stayed serious. “No?”
“No.”
“Then whose call was it?”
“Mine.” I slid my hands up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under my palms. “And I'm making it.”
He went very still.
“I don't want you only when things are hard,” I said. “I don't want you only when there's a gate to hold or a problem to fix. I want you after the rodeo. After the gossip. After the dust settles and this town finds something else to whisper about.”
Dallas's hands tightened at my waist.
“I want mornings,” I said. “And bad coffee at the stock barn. And you looking at me like that even when nobody needs saving.”
He let out a jagged breath. “Sadie.”
“I want you next to me,” I said. “Not because I need someone there. Because I want you there.”
For a second, he looked like he didn't know what to do with that much wanting. Then something inside him gave way, like the last thin piece of doubt he'd been holding between us cracked into tiny pieces.
Dallas kissed me like he finally believed me. That kiss was everything. Deep and consuming and steady, his hands framing my face, his mouth claiming mine like he'd spent years waiting for permission and had just realized he'd had it all along.
I kissed him back just as hard, my hands fisting in his shirt, my body pressing against his. All those months of watching his hands and pretending I wasn't. All those years he'd stopped himself an inch from touching me. We had ground to make up, and I intended to make it up as soon as possible.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. And the town was watching.
Ruby grinned from her spot at the concession stand. Addison shot me a smile from next to the rodeo queen trailer. Tanner had turned away, but I caught the faint curve of his mouth before he did.
Dallas's gaze stayed locked on mine. “The whole town's watching.”
“Let them.”
His laugh was low and rough, and all I wanted was to hear it over and over.
Then he kissed me again, slower this time, his hands sliding to my waist, his forehead resting against mine when we finally pulled apart.
“I don't know what I'm doing,” he admitted.
“With me?”
“With being wanted.”
I touched his face, my thumb brushing over the rough line of his jaw. “Then I guess you'll have to learn.”
His mouth curved. “Yes, ma'am.”
I reached for his hand, lacing my fingers through his, and turned back toward the arena.
The rodeo was still going. The town was still watching. And Dallas Miller stood beside me, no longer waiting for a place I had already given him.
The rodeo wrapped just after sunset, the sky streaked with pink and gold, the crowd dispersing slowly toward trucks and tailgates and the promise of fireworks later.
I was standing near the stock barn, double-checking the quarantine pen one more time, when Addison found me.
She looked perfect, as always, with her crown still in place and that practiced, polished smile. Her eyes sure did look tired, though.
“Before you tell me you're too tired for one more problem,” she said, “I think this one matters.”
I straightened. “What is it?”
She held up an old photo album, the kind with plastic sleeves and a faded cardboard cover. “I went through that regional rodeo and pageant box like I said I would. Found this tucked in the back.”
Dallas moved closer, his presence warm and solid at my shoulder.
Addison opened the album carefully, flipping past pages of old rodeo programs and faded ribbons, until she stopped on a photograph.
It was old and yellowed, the edges soft from age. Two men stood shoulder to shoulder beside a line of cattle. One wore a Kincaid hat. The other wore a Hollister vest. Two brands were burned into the hide of the nearest steer. Kincaid and Hollister. Side by side.
I stared at the image, my mind racing, my breath caught somewhere in my throat. “That's impossible.”
“Is it?” Addison's voice was quiet.
Dallas leaned closer, his gaze locked on the photograph. “When was this taken?”
“There’s not a date,” Addison said. “But the clothes look early nineteen hundreds. Maybe older.”
Tanner appeared at my other shoulder, his face unreadable. Slade and Morgan followed a moment later, drawn by the cluster of people.
“What are we looking at?” Slade asked.
“Proof the feud story is incomplete,” I said.
“This is what Waverly and I kept tripping over in the old records,” Morgan said.
For a town built on the idea that Kincaids and Hollisters had always stood on opposite sides, the photograph looked impossible. But there it was. Two men. Two families. One herd.
Before I could process it further, Addison's phone buzzed. She pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and went still.
“Addison?” I said.
Her smile stayed in place for half a second too long before it broke. She turned the phone toward me.
The message was short.
Smile pretty, Addison. I'll be watching in August.
A cold chill raced down my spine. I kept my voice careful. “That is not fan mail.”
“I know.”
Dallas's hand tightened around mine.
Morgan stepped forward. “How long have you been getting these?”
“A few weeks.”
“And you didn't tell anyone?”
Addison's jaw tightened. “I thought it was just—”
“It's not,” I said. “This is a threat.”
Orville appeared then, his face grim. He must have seen the cluster of us standing there, must have read the tension in Addison's posture.
“What happened?”
Addison handed the phone to Morgan.
Morgan looked at the message, then lifted her gaze to Orville. “Someone's targeting Addison. Sounds like they're planning something for Rodeo Royalty Weekend.”
Orville's expression darkened. “We’re going to need security. I’m calling in Braxton. If Addison's walking into Rodeo Royalty Weekend, he needs to know what's waiting.”
Addison took her phone back carefully, her hands steady despite the fear I could see creeping into her eyes. “I'll be fine.”
Her voice didn't sound fine to me. She sounded like someone trying to convince herself.
I stepped closer, my hand still locked in Dallas's. “You're not doing this alone.”
Addison looked at me, then at the others gathered around her, then back at the screen.
“Smile pretty, Addison,” she read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper. “I'll be watching in August.”
No one said anything for a moment.
Then, somewhere in the distance, the first firework exploded, bright and loud against the darkening sky.