Chapter 22 Devlin #2
“Jesse is in a meeting with Shawn Cooper, going over legal strategy,” Austin says. “Truett is back at the ranch, keeping an eye on things there. We figured it was best not to all be in town at once. Makes it harder for Noah to track us.”
I nod, approving of their caution. “Smart. Any sign of Noah or his deputies today?”
Austin shakes his head. “Nothing so far. Word is, he’s holed up at the station, not taking calls. The sheriff is supposedly on the warpath about the article, demanding to know why he wasn’t briefed about Project Watershed.”
“Good,” I say grimly. “Let them fight among themselves for a while. Takes the heat off us.”
“Speaking of heat,” Austin says, lowering his voice. “Have you heard from Carson? He was supposed to check in this morning, but no one’s been able to reach him.”
A thread of unease winds through me. Carson is the one who put himself on the line by hacking and gathering all the intel we needed. If he’s gone silent…
“I’ll try him,” I say, pulling out my phone. “He might just be lying low after the article dropped.”
Austin nods, but I can see he’s worried too. “Let me know if you hear from him. Jesse is getting antsy.”
“Will do,” I promise, clapping him on the shoulder. “In the meantime, keep your head down. This isn’t over yet.”
He gives me a mock salute, similar to the one I gave Atlee earlier, before jogging back down the street toward his own truck.
I climb into my vehicle and immediately try Carson’s number. It rings several times before going to voicemail. I hang up without leaving a message—better not to create a record if he’s in a sensitive situation—and instead send a text that looks innocuous to anyone who might be monitoring his phone.
Me
Mom’s asking about Sunday dinner. You in?
It’s our code for checking in. If he responds with anything about bringing dessert, it means he’s fine but can’t talk. If he mentions a side dish, it means he’s in trouble.
No response comes as I pull away from the feed store, heading back toward the ranch. The optimism I felt earlier is tempered now by concern for Carson. He’s the youngest of us brothers, always trying to prove himself. I hope his eagerness hasn’t gotten him into a situation he can’t handle.
The road back to the ranch is clear, with no sign of patrol cars or suspicious vehicles. Still, I take a circuitous route, doubling back a couple of times to ensure I’m not being followed. Old habits from my military days, but they’ve kept me alive this long.
As I drive, my thoughts return to Atlee. I should have warned her this morning about the article and prepared her for the attention it might bring. She’s smart, adaptable. She’ll handle it fine, but I still don’t like the idea of her being caught off guard.
I send her a quick text at a stoplight.
Me
The town is talking about the Morrisons and Project Watershed. Article in the Gazette. Might get questions. Call if you need me.
Her response comes almost immediately.
Atlee
Already fielded three “casual” inquiries. Don’t worry. Playing dumb like a pro. Be safe.
I can’t help but smile at that. She’s tougher than most give her credit for, my Atlee.
By the time I reach the turnoff to the ranch, my phone is buzzing with texts from Jesse, Truett, and even Lennon, all of them reacting to the article and the town’s response. The general consensus seems to be positive. The tide of public opinion is turning in our favor, exactly as we’d hoped.
But Carson still hasn’t responded, and that worry gnaws at me as I drive the final stretch to the ranch. If the Morrisons have figured out that he’s been feeding us information…I don’t want to think about what they might do. Richard Morrison didn’t get to where he is by playing nice.
As I pull up to the ranch house, I see Truett waiting on the porch, pacing back and forth with barely contained energy. He bounds down the steps as I park, eager for news.
“Town’s buzzing,” I tell him before he can ask. “Everyone has read the article. They’re on our side.”
Relief floods his face. “Thank God. We needed a win.”
“It’s just the first round,” I caution, climbing out of the truck. “Morrison and Noah won’t take this lying down.”
“Let ’em come,” Truett says with the bravado of youth. “The whole county is against them now.”
I wish I shared his confidence, but I’ve seen too much, been through too many battles to believe any victory is assured until it’s over. Still, it’s good to see hope in his eyes again after weeks of strain and worry.
“Heard from Carson?” I ask, changing the subject.
Truett’s expression darkens. “Not a word. Jesse’s about ready to tear the county apart looking for him.”
“Let’s not panic yet,” I say, though my own concern is growing by the minute. “Carson is smart. He knows how to handle himself.”
“Yeah,” Truett agrees, but he doesn’t sound convinced. “Jesse wants to meet when you get back. Plan our next move.”
I nod and unload the supplies from the truck bed. “I’ll be there. Just need to check in with Atlee first and make sure she’s okay.”
“She at work?” Truett asks, helping me with a particularly heavy bag of feed.
“Yeah, at the pharmacy. I’m picking her up when her shift ends.”
He gives me a knowing look. “Still worried about Noah coming after her?”
“Wouldn’t you be?” I counter.
He concedes the point with a shrug. “Fair enough. But after this article, Noah’s going to have his hands full. Might not have time for revenge plots.”
“Maybe,” I allow, but I’m not taking chances. Not with Atlee’s safety.
As we carry the supplies into the barn, I’m struck by how quickly everything has changed.
Just twenty-four hours ago, I was being arrested, facing serious charges, and uncertain of the future.
Now, the town is rallying behind us, the Morrisons’ scheme is exposed, and for the first time in months, it feels like we might actually come out on top.
But I know better than to count victories before they’re won. There are still too many variables, too many ways this could all go sideways.
And Atlee, caught in the middle of it all because she chose me.
I check my phone again, hoping for a message from Carson, but there’s nothing. Just a text from Atlee.
Atlee
Miss you. See you at 5.
Those simple words steady me and remind me what I’m fighting for. Not just the ranch, not just clearing our names, but a future with her. A life together that’s not shadowed by threats and fear.
For that, I’d take on Noah, the Morrisons, and anyone else who stands in our way. Judging by the reaction in town today, we might not have to face them alone after all.