Sadie
Beast hit the barn door at a run.
One second he was on the porch.
The next he was gone.
Ranger fast.
Dad wasn't far behind, limping as he ran with his cane.
Neither were the boys.
Unfortunately.
"Stay here," Beast barked.
I ignored him.
Completely.
Because I was tired of staying behind while everyone else ran toward danger.
I hurried after them.
The barn doors stood open.
Morning sunlight spilled across the floor.
Dust floated through the air.
Beast entered first.
Weapon raised.
Silent.
Deadly.
The boys suddenly looked a lot less excited.
Funny how that worked.
Everyone stopped just inside the doorway.
"What is it?" I asked.
Kyle pointed.
Wordlessly.
Toward one of the stalls.
I followed his finger.
And froze.
"Oh my God."
Dad swore.
One of the boys gagged.
The other muttered something about needing a new job.
A dead coyote lay in the stall.
Its throat had been cut.
A black ribbon tied around its neck.
And hanging from the ribbon...
Was a photograph.
Me.
My stomach dropped.
Beast moved closer.
His face turning harder with every step.
The picture had been taken yesterday.
At the ranch.
Near the mailbox.
Close enough that whoever took it had been watching from the trees.
Watching us.
Watching me.
A note was taped to the back.
Beast pulled it free.
Read it.
His jaw flexed.
Slowly.
Dangerously.
"What does it say?" Dad asked.
Beast didn't answer.
That worried me more than anything.
I walked over and took the note.
His hand shot out.
Too late.
I'd already read it.
YOU CAN'T HIDE HER FOREVER.
My knees nearly gave out.
The barn suddenly felt too small.
Too hot.
Too close.
Because Gerald wasn't just watching anymore.
He was escalating.
The silence stretched.
Then Beast reached for the note.
Folded it.
Slipped it into his pocket.
His eyes found mine.
And what I saw there made my breath catch.
Anger.
Protectiveness.
Determination.
Something else.
Something that made my heart beat a little faster.
"We're done playing nice."
The words came out cold.
Deadly.
Dad nodded immediately.
"I agree."
One of the boys swallowed hard.
"Should we call the sheriff?"
"Already on my way," a voice said.
Everyone turned.
Sheriff Mason Cooper stepped through the barn door.
The Magnolia Ladies stood behind him.
Every single one of them.
I blinked.
"What are they doing here?"
Mrs. Jenkins looked offended.
"We heard there was trouble."
"How?"
She pointed toward Kyle.
The teenager suddenly found the floor fascinating.
"I might have texted my grandma."
Mrs. Jenkins smiled.
"Who told Doris."
Doris nodded proudly.
"I told Betty."
Betty grinned.
"I told everyone."
Of course they did.
Eagle River's emergency communication system.
Otherwise known as retired grandmothers.
Sheriff Cooper examined the coyote.
The note.
The photograph.
His expression darkened.
"This is harassment."
Beast folded his arms.
"No."
The sheriff looked at him.
"This is a threat."
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then the sheriff nodded.
"Yeah."
It was.
The Magnolia Ladies gathered around me.
Immediately.
Like a flock of very determined hens.
Mrs. Jenkins patted my arm.
Doris handed me a cinnamon roll.
I had no idea where she'd gotten it.
Betty looked toward Beast.
Then toward me.
Then smiled.
Oh no.
I knew that smile.
Matchmaking smile.
Dangerous smile.
The kind that should probably be illegal.
She leaned toward Mrs. Jenkins.
Not quietly.
"Look at him."
Mrs. Jenkins nodded.
"Oh, he's in love."
I nearly choked.
Beast looked horrified.
The boys started laughing.
Dad looked amused.
The sheriff suddenly needed to inspect something outside.
And the Magnolia Ladies?
They looked entirely too pleased with themselves.
For the first time all morning...
The corner of my mouth twitched.
Because if Gerald thought he was going to scare me away from Eagle River...
He clearly didn't know the people who lived here.
Or the giant former Ranger standing beside me.
And judging by the look in Beast's eyes...
Gerald was about to learn a very expensive lesson.