Chapter Thirty
Flint knew trouble waited ahead before he stepped into Amos Grady's territory.
The stockyards should've been awake by now.
Hands usually started work early around cattle shipments, while wagons rolled in before the heat settled over the day, and horses filled the corrals with enough noise to carry across town.
Raised voices were common as workers argued over deliveries, schedules, and whatever grievance had come up.
Today, an uneasy silence hung over everything.
Keeping low behind a stack of weathered crates, Flint studied the streets ahead while morning light spilled across the stockyards.
What he saw made little sense. Empty walkways stretched between the pens, loading areas sat abandoned, and every section of the yard that should've been busy at this hour looked as though the workday had never begun.
That bothered him more than a busy yard ever could.
The stillness felt intentional.
His hand settled more firmly around the grip of his revolver as unease worked its way through him.
It felt like a trap.
The thought had barely crossed his mind when a footstep scraped across the dirt behind him. He turned immediately, drawing his revolver as a figure emerged from the darkness between two buildings.
The figure stopped.
"Easy," Wyatt said, his voice holding a familiar edge of irritation, as though being greeted by a gun had inconvenienced him.
Flint lowered the barrel slightly.
Before he could speak, another man stepped out behind Wyatt.
Nathan.
Flint looked from one to the other, trying to understand why they were here and why they'd arrived at the worst possible time. "What are you doing here?"
The doctor folded his arms and fixed him with a stare that promised nothing pleasant. "What am I doing here?" Nathan repeated. "That's your question?"
Flint regretted asking almost immediately.
Nathan stepped closer, boots crunching across the dirt. "You vanish before sunrise without a word to anybody."
" I just—"
"You leave Daisy crying her eyes out while she's trying to convince herself you've got a good reason."
"I left a note."
Nathan gave a short laugh. "A note." He shook his head. "You rode halfway across the territory and thought a scrap of paper would make that better?"
Flint rubbed a hand across his jaw. "I didn't have much choice."
"You always have a choice. You just chose the stupidest. You break my sister's heart and then expect me to smile and wish you luck?"
"That's enough." Wyatt's voice carried the weary authority of a man who'd spent years separating arguments before they became fistfights.
Both men turned toward him.
Wyatt looked entirely unimpressed. "You can finish threatening each other once we're certain nobody's planning to put a bullet in us."
Nathan looked ready to argue, but Wyatt lifted a single brow in warning before he could get the first word out. Whatever response had been sitting on the tip of Nathan's tongue turned into an irritated mutter that nobody was meant to hear, and he finally abandoned the fight.
The resulting silence pleased Flint far more than it should’ve.
Wyatt shifted his attention toward the stockyards and swept a hand across the deserted yard. "Tell me I'm imagining this."
Flint followed the gesture and scanned the darkness again. "I wish you were." Every instinct continued warning him that the empty streets meant trouble. "It's too quiet."
The three men watched the shadows, each searching for movement, while the uneasy feeling inside Flint continued growing.
Amos preferred control above everything else. He liked distractions, misdirection, and carefully arranged outcomes. The deserted stockyards didn't fit any pattern Flint knew, unless the emptiness served a purpose.
Wyatt's attention snapped toward a narrow alley. "There."
Flint followed his gaze.
A rider emerged from the darkness near one of the holding pens, though the horse wasn't carrying him. The young man walked beside the animal with one hand wrapped around the reins, moving carefully as though he didn't want to draw attention.
His age stood out immediately. So did the fact that nobody accompanied him.
Wyatt glanced toward Flint, and the look they exchanged carried enough meaning that neither man felt any need to speak it aloud.
The opportunity sat right in front of them.
"Quietly," Wyatt said.
Nathan released a long sigh. "I never like hearing that word. People only say it right before a plan falls apart."
Wyatt started moving. "Then try your hardest to prove yourself wrong."
"I appreciate that your total lack of faith in me.”
"My faith exists," Wyatt replied. "My experience keeps getting in the way."
They spread out and moved through the darkness, using empty wagons and abandoned pens for cover while the young rider continued to lead his horse across the stockyards without the slightest indication that company lay ahead.
The boy walked straight into the trap.
Wyatt stepped from the shadows and caught him before he could react. The horse jerked sideways in alarm, but Nathan grabbed the reins and murmured a stream of complaints that somehow sounded calming enough to settle the animal.
Flint reached the young man a heartbeat later and drove him gently but firmly to the ground before panic could turn into shouting.
His hand covered the boy's mouth while Wyatt secured his arms.
The entire struggle burned itself out almost as quickly as it began. When the dust settled, the young cowboy lay pinned beneath Flint with alarm written across every inch of his face while a revolver hovered far too close for comfort.
"Take it easy," Flint said.
The young man stared at him with obvious disbelief, and Flint couldn't blame him. Being pinned to the ground with a revolver mere inches from his face gave very little weight to the word easy.
"Are you going to yell if I move my hand?" Flint asked.
The boy shook his head immediately.
After studying him for another beat, Flint removed his hand and eased back slightly without lowering his guard.
The young cowboy drew a deep breath and looked around as though he was only now taking stock of the situation.
His gaze settled on the revolver first, then moved from Flint to Wyatt and Nathan before returning to the weapon.
Fear lingered across his face, but exhaustion seemed to be winning the battle.
"I knew this job was a mistake," he said quietly.
"What’s your name?" Flint asked.
"Eddie."
Flint studied him more carefully. The kid looked young, too young for this type of work.
"Eddie," Flint said, keeping his voice steady, "how long have you been working for Amos?"
"About three weeks."
Flint believed him.
Eddie swallowed hard. "You're Flint Callahan."
"At least Amos hasn't stopped teaching people their history."
Nathan folded his arms, his expression hardening as he watched Eddie. "That sounds less like history and more like a warning."
Eddie looked as though he would've traded places with the horse if anyone had offered him the chance. Flint remembered being young enough to think every older man had answers and every difficult choice looked cleaner from a distance. The memory stirred, but it didn't soften what had to happen now.
"What is Amos planning?" he asked.
Eddie answered too quickly. "I don't know."
The panic in his face looked genuine, though Flint knew fear and ignorance didn't always belong together.
"Think harder," Flint said.
"I'm trying."
Wyatt crouched beside him. "Then start with what you have heard."
Eddie hesitated. His gaze drifted toward the revolver again. Memory returned with remarkable speed. "People were talking."
"What people?" Wyatt asked.
"Men working for Amos."
Wyatt nodded encouragingly. "And what were they saying?"
Eddie licked his lips. "They kept talking about moving out."
Flint felt unease settle deeper inside him. "Moving where?"
"I never heard where.”
Flint drew a little closer to him. "How many men?"
Eddie shifted uncomfortably. "A lot. Most of them, I think."
"Why?" Flint asked.
Eddie squeezed his eyes shut, searching his memory. "I heard one of them say they were building a trap."
Flint felt his pulse pick up. "A trap for who?"
"I don't know."
Nathan stepped closer. "Tell us exactly what you heard."
Eddie frowned and stared at the ground, apparently thinking. His eyes widened. "I remember now."
Every muscle in Flint's body went rigid.
Eddie looked between the three men. "One of them mentioned a woman."
Everything inside Flint seemed to lock into place.
Eddie kept talking, unaware that each word was making the situation worse. "They were saying nobody could keep track of you anymore."
A heavy pulse started pounding through Flint's veins. "And?"
Eddie swallowed. "They figured they didn't need to."
Nathan's expression changed as the meaning settled in, while Wyatt's face hardened with the same realization.
Flint had reached the conclusion the instant Eddie started speaking. Every piece that had seemed disconnected only minutes earlier had fallen into place, and the explanation became painfully clear long before the boy finished what he was trying to say.
"One of the men said that once you heard about the woman..." Eddie faltered and glanced between them. "...you'd come on your own."
Nathan moved first. "They are going after my sister."
Flint was already on his feet as fear surged through him hard enough to steal his breath.
Amos had never expected him to find answers in the stockyards. The empty streets, abandoned businesses, and missing guards suddenly made perfect sense. Every detail had been carefully arranged to pull his attention in the wrong direction and keep him occupied while the real move happened elsewhere.
While Amos moved against Daisy.
A flood of terrible possibilities forced its way into Flint's thoughts.
Daisy would open her door to a stranger because she had no way of seeing the danger waiting outside.
She would only realize trouble had arrived when it was close enough to touch her, and if she reached for help, she might find herself facing it alone.
The images struck one after another until he could barely think.
Eddie was still speaking, his voice sounding distant now. "I swear that's everything I heard."
Flint barely registered the words.
Nathan looked pale enough to make Flint wonder whether the doctor was imagining the same possibilities.
Wyatt's face had hardened into cold determination. "We leave now."
Agreement came without discussion because every second they spent standing still gave Amos more time.
Eddie looked up uneasily as Flint stepped toward him. "What are you going to do?"
Flint held his gaze. "I'm going after Amos."
The young cowboy swallowed.
"You've got one chance to make a better choice than I did." Flint stepped back and lowered his revolver. "Walk away from him. Don't come after us. Don't go back to him. Just leave."
Eddie stared at him, as though he couldn't believe he'd been given the choice.
"I mean it," Flint said. "If you stay with Amos, he'll ruin your life the same way he nearly ruined mine."
Eddie gave a slow nod. "I won't follow you."
Flint studied him for another heartbeat, then looked to Wyatt. "We don't have time."
Wyatt nodded once. "Let's ride."
Nathan glanced at Eddie before turning toward Flint. "I wasn't expecting mercy."
Flint holstered his revolver. "Daisy was."
Wyatt was already heading toward the horses. "Move."
Flint crossed the distance in a few quick strides and swung into the saddle. Fear drove every thought as he gathered the reins and turned his horse toward home.
Toward Daisy and whatever Amos had set in motion.