Sadie
The boys were arguing.
Again.
Apparently the proper way to shovel manure was now a matter of national importance.
"You're doing it wrong."
"I'm literally putting it in the wheelbarrow."
"Yeah, but you're doing it wrong."
"I don't think that's possible."
"It is when you're involved."
Hank rubbed his forehead.
I hid a smile.
Beast looked like he was considering burying all three of them in the manure pile.
The boys immediately got back to work.
Funny how that happened.
A delivery truck rolled into the ranch yard.
The driver stopped near the barn.
"Package for Sadie Walker."
My stomach tightened.
I wasn't expecting anything.
Neither was Dad.
Neither was Beast.
The former Ranger's eyes narrowed instantly.
The driver climbed out carrying a medium-sized cardboard box.
No return address.
No company logo.
Nothing.
Just my name.
I took one step forward.
Beast stepped in front of me.
"No."
The single word stopped me cold.
The driver blinked.
Dad frowned.
"What?"
Beast never took his eyes off the box.
"Set it on the ground."
The driver immediately obeyed.
Years of Army Ranger voice probably carried over.
The man practically dropped it.
Beast crouched beside it.
Examining every inch.
Every seam.
Every corner.
The boys had abandoned their shovels.
Even they looked nervous now.
Finally Beast carefully lifted the box.
Shook it once.
Nothing.
No rattling.
No ticking.
No movement.
Then he carried it to an empty section of the yard.
Far away from the house.
Far away from everyone.
Dad looked impressed.
I looked annoyed.
"Beast."
"No."
"It's probably nothing."
"That's what everybody says right before it's something."
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Because he wasn't wrong.
Unfortunately.
The boys snickered.
Beast glared.
The snickering stopped.
Immediately.
He carefully opened the top flap.
Everyone waited.
Silence.
Then Beast reached inside.
His jaw tightened.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
He pulled out more photographs.
My heart stopped.
It was me.
Standing outside the feed store three days ago.
I hadn't known anyone was taking pictures.
The next photo showed me leaving the church.
Another showed me at the diner.
Another at the ranch.
Another standing beside Dad.
Another I was standing beside Beast.
The blood drained from my face.
Dad swore.
The boys stopped smiling.
Beast looked ready to kill someone.
There was one final item.
A folded note.
He opened it.
Read it.
Then his expression turned absolutely terrifying.
"What does it say?"
He didn't answer.
"Beast."
Slowly he handed me the paper.
Three words.
Written in black marker.
YOU BELONG TO ME.
My hands started shaking.
Dad's face turned red.
The boys looked horrified.
But Beast?
Beast looked calm.
Far too calm.
The kind of calm that happens right before something very bad happens to someone.
He took the note from my fingers.
Folded it once.
Then looked toward the road.
Toward town.
Toward wherever Gerald was hiding.
His voice was quiet.
Deadly.
"He's done."
And for the first time since Gerald came back to Eagle River...
I believed it.