Chapter 28
SETH
The rodeo grounds are slowly coming alive around us, crew members setting up equipment, vendors preparing their stalls, the distant sounds of horses being led to their pens. It’s the last day of the rodeo shows, followed by a week of carnival fun, but our job will be done.
My father and I stand near the livestock area, a sprawling section of the grounds dedicated to housing the animals that make the rodeo possible. Large outdoor stalls stretch in rows before us, constructed of sturdy wooden posts and metal railings.
“The numbers don’t lie,” my father says, pulling my attention back to the papers in his hands.
He’s comparing Joshua’s count from yesterday against the official report from this morning’s committee meeting.
The discrepancy is similar to the previous day.
“A third of our revenue. Gone. Just disappeared into that bastard’s pocket. ”
I look over his shoulder at the figures, my jaw tightening. Every category shows the same pattern with actual numbers significantly higher than what Holden reported.
“We’ve got him,” I say quietly. “There’s no way he can explain this away.”
“No, there isn’t.” My father folds the papers and tucks them into his jacket pocket, handing me back my phone. “I spoke with Pete this morning. Before the meeting.”
“And?”
“He was horrified.” My father’s expression is grim but satisfied.
“Genuinely shocked. The man was shaking and terrified that this was going to ruin the town’s reputation, furious that he trusted Holden with so much responsibility.
” He shakes his head. “In hindsight, leaving all the financial oversight to one person was a massive mistake, but Pete had no idea what was happening. I believe him.”
I nod slowly. Pete has been a fixture in this town for decades, a man whose entire identity is wrapped up in Honeyspur Meadow’s success. The idea of him being complicit in embezzlement never sat right with me anyway.
“So what happens now?”
My father’s smile is the cold, satisfied expression of a man who has his enemy exactly where he wants them. “My lawyer is here. So is Sheriff Cade. Holden was supposed to come down to the rodeo right after the committee meeting, so we timed everything perfectly.”
“They’re going to finally arrest the asshole?”
“The police have already started looking into his finances. Turns out our friend Holden has had a sudden influx of cash recently.” My father’s eyes meet mine. “Hence him buying June’s parents’ house and business. No loan. No mortgage. Just a straight cash purchase.”
My stomach clenches at the mention of June.
“So that was enough to get a warrant?” I ask.
Dad nods. “Combined with the discrepancies in the financial records and the testimony from the woman who spiked your drink, yes. They have enough to arrest him and conduct a full investigation. A complete audit of every transaction he’s touched since he took over the position.”
“Thank fuck for that.”
“Speaking of which,” my father continues. “I have more good news.”
“Go on.”
“The lawyers have been working with the sheriff’s office. Your charges have been dropped. You don’t need to go to court this afternoon.”
For a moment, I just stare at him. The weight I’ve been carrying for days, the looming specter of a criminal record, the humiliation when I knew that something was wrong that night. All of it, gone.
“That’s exactly what I needed to hear.”
My father’s expression softens slightly. “No son of mine is going to be dragged through the dirt for another man’s crimes.”
I don’t know what to say. After years of feeling like I could never quite measure up to his expectations, after all the arguments and disappointments and silences that stretched too long, this feels like progress.
“Thank you,” I manage. “For making that happen.”
He waves off the gratitude with a gruff gesture.
“It’s what any father would do. Besides, the evidence was on our side.
That woman went to the station yesterday on her own and gave a full statement.
Confirmed that Holden paid her to spike your drink.
” He snorts. “She even brought the bag he gave her the money in. It had a stamp of the town hall logo on it.” My father shakes his head in disbelief.
“Can you imagine? The man uses official town stationery to pay off someone for drugging a drink, then leaves it with her as evidence.”
“How dumb is this guy?” I mutter.
“Arrogant. He thought he was untouchable. Thought no one would ever look closely enough to catch him.” My father’s smile returns. “He had no idea what was coming his way.”
“And the money he took? Is there any chance of getting it back?”
“Already in discussions with the lawyers about recovery options. If the audit confirms what we suspect, we’ll pursue full restitution. It’ll take time, but we’ll get there.”
The sound of approaching footsteps draws our attention. I turn to find Sheriff Cade strolling toward us, his badge glinting in the morning sun, his expression all business.
Behind him, looking like death warmed over and then microwaved for good measure, is Deputy Tanner.
I have to suppress a grin at the sight of him.
His face is pale, almost green around the edges, and there are dark circles under his eyes that suggest he didn’t sleep last night.
He’s walking stiffly, each step clearly causing him discomfort, and there’s a general air of misery radiating off him that’s deeply satisfying to witness.
Kai told me everything this morning about their drinking competition, the darts, and the grand finale, where June’s pathetic excuse for an ex-boyfriend accidentally stabbed a bystander with a wayward dart, face-planted onto the floor, and started snoring.
It’s fucking glorious.
“Mr. Benton.” Sheriff Cade extends his hand to my father, and they shake. “Everything is in place. My deputies have eyes on every exit.”
“Excellent.” My father dips his chin, then angles his attention toward me like I’m a bullet point on his agenda. “Seth here has been instrumental in uncovering this whole mess. He and his… pack.”
The sheriff’s gaze slides to me and nods his thanks.
While my father and the sheriff continue trading logistics, I let my attention drift to Tanner. He’s standing a few feet away, trying to look professional and failing spectacularly. His uniform is wrinkled, his hair is a mess, and he winces every time someone speaks above a whisper.
I catch his attention and let the smug satisfaction show.
He glares back, but there’s no real threat behind it. The man is too busy trying not to vomit to muster anything convincing.
“Rough night?” I ask, keeping my voice just loud enough to carry.
“Fuck off, Seth.”
I laugh and glance around, only to spot Holden Pierce walking around the corner of the livestock area, coming in our direction.
He’s dressed casually today, jeans and a button-up shirt, with a cowboy hat perched on his head that he clearly bought for the occasion.
He looks relaxed. Confident. The king of his little empire, surveying his domain.
Until his gaze lands on us.
The transformation is instantaneous. His easy smile freezes, then crumbles. His confident stride stutters to a halt. I watch the color drain from his face as he takes in the sheriff, my father, the officers positioned around the perimeter.
He fucking knows.
“Holden Pierce!” Sheriff Cade’s voice booms across the grounds. “I need a moment to speak with you!”
But Holden is already moving, spinning on his heels and bolting toward the livestock stalls. His fancy cowboy hat flies off his head, landing in the dirt, forgotten. He doesn’t look back.
“Tanner!” The sheriff’s voice is sharp with command. “Go get him, for fuck’s sake!”
Tanner grunts something and takes off after Holden, his movements stiff and uncoordinated.
He’s not running so much as lurching, each step a clear struggle against whatever his body is trying to expel.
As I watch, he steps directly on Holden’s discarded hat, his foot sliding on the brim, and nearly goes down.
He catches himself at the last second, arms windmilling, but the damage is done.
The sheriff pinches the bridge of his nose. “Christ Almighty.”
We all move after them, following the chase at a more measured pace. Holden has a decent lead, but he’s not exactly in peak physical condition. Tanner, despite his compromised state, is slowly closing the distance.
Then Holden scales the fence into an enclosure.
“I wouldn’t go in there if I were you!” I shout, but it’s too late. Holden is already over the top, dropping down into the stall with the kind of desperation that overrides common sense, and running, except he freezes halfway across the corralled area.
Brutus is standing at one end of the enclosure, massive and motionless, watching this new intruder with the cold calculation of a born predator. The bull’s head is lowered slightly, his dark eyes fixed on Holden, nostrils flaring with each slow, deliberate breath.
The silence stretches.
Well, fuck…
Then Brutus stamps one enormous hoof against the packed dirt, and the sound is like a gunshot in the morning quiet.
“Fucking idiot,” my father breathes beside me.
We reach the fence just as Tanner climbs it, huffing and puffing, his face now a concerning shade of gray.
“We have to get him out of there,” Sheriff Cade says urgently. “That bull will kill him.”
Tanner, apparently having a death wish, attempts to get into the stall, starts wobbling, and, without warning, begins hurling out his breakfast.
Everyone groans and looks away.
“Tanner, you fool!” The sheriff grabs his deputy by the back of his collar and hauls him down. He lands on his side, coughing.
He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Cade, I’m not—”