Chapter 18
LENNOX
By the time we get to the fence, the sun is gone, and the once vibrant sky is black now, and the only sounds are the rhythmic beat of eight horses’ hooves and the creak of leather saddles moving through darkness toward the Marshall property.
I keep Duchess close to Cisco because he’s told me to.
Following Sebastian’s silhouette, my heart is hammering so hard I think everyone can hear it.
This is wild. We are armed riders crossing onto another ranch’s land to take back stolen cattle.
In Montana, this would get you arrested. In Texas, this is just a Tuesday.
Sebastian raises his fist, and the entire group halts. I pull Duchess to a stop, listening for sounds, but there are none beyond the breathing of our horses and men shifting in their saddles. Ahead, barely visible, is a fence line. The boundary between properties.
“Wire cutters,” Sebastian says quietly, and Pete moves forward with tools. Within seconds, the fence is cut, and the wire is peeled back to create an opening wide enough for horses.
There is no turning back now. We are officially trespassing.
We move through single file, horses picking their way carefully in the darkness. Once we are across, the group forms again, and Sebastian gestures for us to move forward. My hands are slick with sweat despite the cooling night air.
“Stay close,” Sebastian murmurs to me. “If anything happens, you get low in the saddle, and you ride back the way we came. Don’t wait for me.”
“Sebastian, I’ll be fine,” I whisper.
“That’s an order, Lennox.”
Before I can argue, he urges Cisco forward, and we are moving again. Deeper into Marshall territory, toward whatever waits in the darkness.
“Boss,” one of the ranch hands calls softly. “Thermal’s picking up heat signatures ahead. Multiple. Could be cattle, could be people.”
“How many?”
“Hard to tell. At least twenty, maybe more.”
Sebastian holds up his hand again, stopping the group. He pulls out night vision binoculars, scanning the darkness ahead. I watch his body language shift, tension rippling through his shoulders.
“What is it?” I whisper.
“Cattle. Ours, from the brands I can see.” His voice is tight. “But there’s men with them. Four, maybe five. Armed.”
My stomach drops. “They knew we were coming.”
“Or suspected.” He passes the binoculars to the ranch hand beside him. “Jackson, take two men and circle east. Pete, take two west. When I give the signal, we all move in at once. Surround them before they can react.”
“And if they shoot?” Jackson asks.
“Then we shoot back. But nobody on our side fires first. We’re here for our property.” Sebastian looks back at me. “You stay here with Miguel. Don’t move unless I tell you to.”
“Sebastian,” I plead. I don’t want to leave his side, I don’t want to stay with Miguel. I’m sure he’s great, but Sebastian is the reason I’m in this mess. He should be sticking with me.
“Lennox.” His voice hardens. “This isn’t negotiable. You stay here where it’s safe, or I tie you to a tree. Choose.”
“Fine,” I hiss. “But if you get shot, I’m not riding in to rescue you.”
“Love you too, wife.” He laughs, then turns to the older ranch hand beside me. “Miguel, she moves, you stop her. You may have to shoot her, but I’ll understand.”
“Yes, sir.”
I roll my eyes, but Sebastian is already moving, the main group following him, splitting off as planned to surround the cattle and those guarding them. I sit on Duchess in the darkness with Miguel, my heart in my throat, watching shapes move through the night.
My eyes track Sebastian on Cisco and I let out a shaky breath. I’m nervous—no, I’m scared for him. Don’t do anything stupid, I think, surprised by how much I mean it. Don’t die.
“Ma’am,” Miguel says quietly beside me. “We should move back. Put distance between them and us.” Miguel barely gets the words out, and the first shot cracks through the night. Then all hell breaks loose.
Muzzle flashes light up the darkness like lightning. Gunfire explodes from multiple directions. Horses scream, men shout and I watch Sebastian’s group scatter as bullets tear through the space they occupied seconds before.
“Go!” Miguel grabs Duchess’s reins. “We go now!”
But I yank them free, already urging Duchess forward instead of back. Sebastian is down there, pinned down, taking fire from what looks like way more than four or five men. “Like fuck that man’s going to die on me,” I shout back at Miguel.
“Mrs. Drake, no!”
I ignore him, and instead kick Duchess into a gallop and ride straight into the chaos. Stupid, yes. Suicidal, absolutely. But I can’t just sit here while Sebastian gets himself killed.
I come in from the side, staying low in the saddle like my father taught me. My heart is hammering in my chest and I think I’m forgetting to breathe. I spot him behind a rocky outcrop, rifle up, returning fire. Pete is beside him, and Jackson is somewhere to the east based on the muzzle flashes.
A figure emerges from the darkness, rifle raised, aiming at Sebastian’s position. Not one of ours, and he hasn’t seen me yet.
I don’t think. I just pull the mare hard right and gallop straight at him, and Duchess, bless her aggressive heart, doesn’t hesitate. Twelve hundred pounds of American Quarter Horse slams into the man at a full gallop, sending him flying. His rifle discharges into the air as he goes down.
“Lennox!” Sebastian’s roar carries over the gunfire. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Saving your ass!” I yell as I wheel Duchess around, looking for more threats.
More shots fly through the air and a bullet whizzes past my head so close I feel the displacement of air. I duck instinctively, and out of nowhere Sebastian is there, grabbing Duchess’s bridle, pulling us toward the rocks with him.
“Are you insane?” His face is barely visible in the darkness as he hauls me off my horse. “I told you to stay back!”
“And I told you this was a bad idea, but here we are! They were waiting for us, Sebastian. They knew we’d come!”
Another volley of shots forces us lower. I can hear cattle stampeding now, panicked by the gunfire. All our stolen animals, plus probably some of the Marshalls’, thundering off into the darkness.
“We need to get out of here,” Pete hollers, ejecting an empty magazine and slamming in a fresh one. “We’re outnumbered and outgunned. This is a setup.”
“Where’s Nathaniel and Dad?” Sebastian is scanning the darkness, trying to account for his people.
A radio crackles on Pete’s belt—Nathaniel’s voice, tight with urgency: “West flank under heavy fire. Dad took one in the shoulder. We’re pulling back. All units fall back to the boundary!”
Sebastian’s face turns white. “Fuck.”
“Go!” I shove at his shoulder, breaking him out of whatever is going through his head. “Get to your father. Pete and I will cover.”
“You don’t even have a gun.”
“Then give me one. I promise I won’t use it on you for dragging me into this shit.” My words are filled with more meaning than just this moment.
He stares at me for a split second, then pulls the pistol from his belt and shoves it into my hands. “You know how to use this?”
“I grew up on a ranch. Yes, I know how to use it.”
Sebastian reaches out and he works his fingers into my hair and pulls me roughly to him before kissing me hard and deep. Pete clears his throat. Sebastian pulls away and whispers, “Don’t get killed.”
I don’t have time to reply; he’s already moving, whistling for Cisco, who appears out of the chaos. He swings up and is gone, galloping west toward where his father is pinned down. “You too,” I whisper as I watch him ride away.
Pete moves beside me, his weathered face grim in the low light of the new moon. “Think you can actually hit anything with that?”
“Let’s hope so.” I check the magazine like my oldest brother taught me years ago. Fully loaded. Safety off. “Because I think we’ve got company.”
Three figures are moving toward our position, using the rocks for cover. Marshall men, coming to finish what they started.
“Get behind me,” Pete orders, his rifle already up.
“Like hell.” I move to his left, creating a crossfire position. “Two targets are harder to hit than one.”
He barks a laugh despite the situation. “The boss really did marry a crazy one.”
“You have no idea,” I reply flatly.
The men get close enough that I can see the outline of their faces. Young, maybe early twenties, pumped full of adrenaline and the certainty that comes from having superior numbers.
Unfortunately, they see us too late.
Pete’s rifle cracks three times in rapid succession and our horses bolt.
Two men go down. The third spins toward me, his rifle coming up, and I don’t hesitate.
Two shots, center mass, exactly like my brother taught me on targets.
The man drops like a rock. For a second, there’s silence.
Just heavy breathing and the distant sound of horses, cattle and men shouting.
Miguel appears on horseback, leading Duchess toward me. “We need to go. Now. Before more come.”
He’s right; we compromised our position and it’s about to be overrun. I can hear engines starting, trucks or ATVs, hard to tell, and more Marshall men are responding to the gunfire.
Pete and I mount our horses quickly, and we gallop through darkness toward where Sebastian went. Bullets chase us, but we’re moving fast, staying low, making ourselves hard targets.
We find the west group regrouping near the property line. Nathaniel, applying pressure to Walker’s shoulder while the older man curses steadily. Sebastian is beside them, his face stark with worry in the dim light from someone’s tactical flashlight.
“How bad?” I ask, sliding off Duchess.
“Through and through,” Walker grinds out. “I’ve had worse.”
“He needs a real hospital,” Nathaniel says.
“No hospital. They’ll have to report a gunshot wound. Then we’ve got law enforcement involved.” Walker tries to sit up, but goes pale immediately. “Just patch it up and get me home.”
“Dad—”
“That’s an order, Nathaniel.” Walker’s voice, even weak from pain and blood loss, carries absolute authority. “We go home. Now. Before they regroup and come after us like sitting ducks.”
Sebastian looks at me, and I see the calculation in his eyes. Staying to argue means risking more casualties. Getting Walker medical attention means explaining a gunshot wound from a midnight cattle raid.
There aren’t any good options.
“Everyone who can ride, get on a horse. Those who can’t, double up. We’re heading back to the ranch,” Sebastian orders.
The retreat is chaotic. Men with minor wounds helping others with worse, horses nervous from gunfire, everyone looking over their shoulders waiting for the Marshalls to pursue. Sebastian and James get Walker onto a horse with Nathaniel, and we start moving.
Fast. Controlled. But definitely retreating.
We hit the boundary fence at a gallop, not bothering to be careful about the crossing. Just speed, desperation and the overwhelming need to get back to safe ground.
When we finally crest the ridge that overlooks our house, I can see lights on everywhere. The main house, the barns, every building is lit up like a beacon.
Caroline’s voice crackles over someone’s radio: “I’ve got a medical team standing by. Get him to the ranch hospital facility. Now.”
Ranch hospital facility. Of course they have one. Ranchers willing to ride into enemy territory in the middle of the night need their own hospital.
We thunder into the main barn area. Medical personnel, a doctor and two nurses, apparently kept on retainer, immediately swarm Walker. Caroline is standing with them, her face red with fury. Eleanor appears, perfectly composed despite her husband bleeding out in the barn.
James slides off his horse and stands in the corner, talking urgently on his phone, his expression grim.
Sebastian dismounts and goes to his father’s side immediately as the medical team is moving Walker toward a building I haven’t noticed before: low, modern, and designed for precisely this kind of situation.
I slide off Duchess, my legs shaking now that the adrenaline is fading. My hands are steady, though. Too steady. I’ve just shot a man, probably killed him—no, absolutely killed him, and I feel nothing.
We went to take back stolen cattle. Instead, we came limping home with a wounded patriarch and nothing to show for it except proof that the Marshalls were ready and waiting.