Chapter Five
The next morning came quietly to Nightfall Drifters Ranch.
Making his way into the kitchen, Law stepped around Cookie and filled two mugs with coffee. One, he added heavy cream and a squirt of honey from the bottle beside the pot.
“You guys workin’ today?” Cookie asked without looking up from the skillet.
“Might be a slow morning while Viper makes a call.”
“Any requests for lunch?”
“How hard would it be to make your famous chili?” Law asked.
Cookie snorted. “How hard is it to eat whatever I put in front of you and pretend it’s the best damn thing you’ve ever had?”
Law laughed and lifted the mugs.
The investigation into the lost boys files was on a short hold while Viper made a call to the Secretary of Defense and set a search in motion for Rook. No photo, but Sage knew of him. That would have to be enough.
He lifted the mugs. Soon enough, they’d be back in the thick of it, but for now, it was quiet.
Carrying the coffee, Law stepped out of the main ranch house and onto the porch just as the first pale line of sunlight broke across the Nevada valley.
The air carried the cool bite of early morning—June in the high desert still held onto the night a little longer before the sun burned it away. Most of the ranch was still asleep.
A few horses shifted lazily in the distant pasture. Near the barracks, a screen door creaked. Otherwise, the property sat in that rare pocket of stillness before the day began moving.
Law headed toward the corral.
Horses snorted as he approached, hooves stirring dust that lifted in slow spirals through the early light before settling again.
His attention settled on the slender blond at the fence.
Sage stood with his arms folded over the top rail, chin resting on one hand while the other hand reached out to rub slowly along the neck of a mare pressed against the boards.
After a moment, he climbed up onto the top rail instead of standing on the ground like a normal person.
One boot hooked the lower board while the other dangled loose as he leaned forward to run his fingers through the mare’s mane. A couple more horses crowded the rail around him, bumping his shoulder and nosing at his jacket like they owned him.
Sage nudged one impatient muzzle away with an absent hand. “Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I brought enough for everybody.”
The horse huffed directly into his hair.
Sage laughed and pushed curls out of his eyes.
Law stopped a few feet away, watching the quiet chaos for a moment before stepping forward.
“You look comfortable.”
Sage glanced over his shoulder, green eyes bright even this early. “From this height, it’s easier to tell a thousand-pound animal to wait its turn.”
He dug into his pockets and produced a handful of whole carrots, breaking them and handing pieces out one at a time to the four horses crowding him.
Law waited until the last carrot disappeared before holding out the second cup of coffee.
Sage blinked at him, green eyes widening slightly, then accepted it with a small nod. “You’re my favorite person today.”
“It’s early.”
“Still counts.”
Sage took a cautious sip, then settled back onto the fence rail again like gravity didn’t apply to him the same way it did everyone else.
A few of the horses nudged him again, completely unconcerned about personal space.
“They like you,” Law said.
“They like my carrots,” Sage corrected.
He took another sip of coffee and closed his eyes briefly with a quiet sigh.
One of the mares pushed her nose into his shoulder again. Sage scratched the animal’s nose automatically, the motion easy and practiced.
Law leaned against the fence beside him, sipping his own coffee while the morning slowly brightened around them.
Eventually, when the cup was empty, Sage hopped down from the rail and leaned his hip against the fence beside Law.
Among the animals, something softened in him. The sharp watchfulness Sage usually carried eased, replaced by a quiet brightness that showed up rarely and disappeared quickly.
“You had horses growing up?” Sage asked.
“No,” Law said. “But we had dogs. Mostly shepherds. Smart animals.” He paused a moment. “My mom loves cats, so there are always a few running around too.”
Sage nodded, absently tracing the rim of his empty mug with his thumb.
“One of my foster homes had a cat,” he said after a moment.
Law didn’t miss the casual way the statement slipped out.
Not defensive. Just matter-of-fact.
Like owning one had never been an option worth discussing.
“Well, you’re making up for it now,” Law said.
“Yes.” Sage’s mouth tipped slightly at the corner, and he moved closer to lean against the fence beside him. “You’ve got a big family, right?”
Law nodded. “Oldest of six.”
Sage whistled low. “That’s a lot of chaos.”
Law huffed a quiet laugh. “You learn quickly how to get loud or get out of the way.”
He took a sip of coffee. “My dad was a retired general. Could’ve put us on base, but he wanted us somewhere steady. Bought a house outside Knoxville. Several acres. Nothing fancy.”
“Still sounds busy.”
“It was.” Law smiled faintly. “Five younger siblings meant somebody was always fighting, playing ball, or breaking something. Mom kept us all in line somehow.”
Another quiet moment settled between them as the sun climbed higher, turning the distant mountains pale gold.
Law glanced toward the ranch road.
“Ready to go get him?”
Sage’s head lifted immediately.
The spark in his eyes came alive fast.
He smiled.
“Yeah,” he said. “I am.”
The drive across the ranch was short. Morning had begun stretching across the valley by the time they left the main house, pale sunlight spilling over the Nevada hills and burning the last of the cool from the air.
The gravel road wound past the barns and lower pastures, cutting through stretches of sagebrush and open field that still held the quiet of early morning.
Sage lasted about twenty seconds in silence before reaching over and turning on the radio.
He scrolled through the stations with quick taps until something bright and upbeat burst through the speakers—guitars, drums, and a singer who sounded aggressively cheerful for that hour of the morning.
Law winced.
Sage caught it immediately. “What?”
“You couldn’t find something worse?”
“This is excellent driving music.”
“It’s seven in the morning.”
“That’s exactly why we need it.”
Sage turned the volume up a notch and leaned back in the seat, one boot braced casually against the dashboard while the breeze from the cracked window tugged at his curls. He drummed his fingers against his knee in time with the beat, grinning sideways at Law like he’d just won something.
Law shook his head but didn’t reach for the dial.
The gravel road curved around a stand of cottonwoods before opening onto the small clearing where Crow and Rebel’s cabin sat tucked against the edge of the property. The yard still carried the same early-morning calm as the rest of the ranch.
Law rolled the truck to a stop near the fence line.
The calm lasted about half a second.
A white-and-black blur exploded across the yard.
Buckshot hit the ground running like he’d been launched from a cannon, long legs flying in every direction as he sprinted straight for the truck.
Sage was already out the door.
“Hey, buddy—”
The nine-month-old Dalmatian slammed into him full force, all gangly limbs and uncoordinated enthusiasm. Buckshot’s paws hit Sage’s chest as the dog tried to climb him and lick his face at the same time, his whole body wagging hard enough to nearly knock himself over.
Sage laughed, the sound bright and completely unguarded.
“Easy—easy!” he said, catching the dog’s shoulders before Buckshot toppled them both. “You’ve grown in the last two days. Ya lug.”
Buckshot attempted to crawl directly into his arms.
Law shut the truck door and leaned against the side of it, arms folding loosely as he watched the reunion unfold.
The dog had been half frozen when Law found him in that Colorado blizzard months earlier—small, stubborn, and barely moving, but refusing to give up. He’d carried the pup wrapped inside his jacket while the storm tore across the ranch.
Buckshot bounced in circles around Sage, long Dalmatian legs going everywhere at once before launching himself back against Sage’s chest again.
The young man sat on the ground to steady himself, scratching both hands through the spotted fur along the dog’s neck.
“Yeah,” he cooed. “I missed you, too.”
Buckshot responded by licking his chin and climbing into his lap.
After a moment, the puppy bounced away and bounded toward Law, tail whipping happily.
Then he wheeled around and sprinted straight back to Sage like gravity had shifted.
Law just smiled.
Some animals decided quickly who their person was.
Buckshot had never had any doubt.
The dog finally slowed long enough to sit at Sage’s quiet command, tongue lolling out and eyes locked on him. It still amazed Law how quickly Sage had trained Buckshot.
Sage suddenly stilled.
Buckshot stilled too, ears tipping as if he felt the shift run through Sage’s body.
Sage pulled the buzzing phone from his pocket, glanced at the screen, then walked a few yards away. Buckshot followed him like a shadow.
Law stayed where he was.
Behind him, the cabin door creaked open.
Crow stepped onto the porch first, Rebel right behind him, both pausing to take in the yard.
“Mornin’,” Crow said.
Law nodded. “Morning.”
Their attention drifted briefly toward Sage.
Buckshot sat pressed against his leg while Sage spoke quietly into the phone.
“I know.”
A pause.
“I said I’d be there.”
Another pause.
“I’ll tell you where.”
The call ended a moment later.
Sage slipped the phone back into his pocket and crouched to scratch Buckshot behind the ears before walking back toward them, the familiar spark settling into place like nothing had happened.
Law said nothing.
But he noticed everything.