Chapter 37
I wake, and for a second, I don’t know where I am. There’s canvas above me instead of a ceiling, and the smell of smoke clings faintly to the air. The perimeter run…
As I stir, I notice a warmth radiating through me that doesn’t belong to the morning sun. The sky beyond the tent is barely light, that pale gray hour before sunrise commits. The world is quiet except for the wind dragging softly across the prairie.
I shift to stretch and register a weight resting heavily against my side. Teagan. The emotional distance I’ve been so desperate to maintain has fallen away over a few nights around the fire. And it looks like the physical one wasn’t far behind.
She is curled toward me in her sleeping bag, the puffy nylon barrier the only thing separating us.
I look down to where her forehead is resting just beneath my collarbone.
Her breathing is slow and steady, the warm exhales blowing against my shirt.
She is nuzzled against me, her knees tucked slightly, and fingers curled into the silky blanket covering me.
I should wake her. Instead, I let myself enjoy this moment. There’s something disarming about seeing her like this, completely unguarded and soft. The feeling that settles in my chest isn’t panic. It isn’t even guilt. It’s something dangerously close to peace. And I don’t entirely hate it.
“Good morning,” I murmur quietly.
Her lashes flutter. She blinks once, twice, confusion clouding her expression before awareness crashes in, her body stiffening instantly.
“Oh my God,” she breathes, scrambling backward in a rush of rustling fabric.
“I’m so sorry.” She nearly tangles herself in the sleeping bag, trying to create distance between us.
I push up on one elbow, fighting the urge to steady her. “It’s fine.”
Her cheeks flush pink, and she stammers, “I must’ve rolled over in my sleep.”
“Must’ve,” I echo.
She clears her throat and finds her composure. “Good mornin’.”
“Morning.”
Breaking down camp is the opposite of setting up, and not just from a construction standpoint.
There’s no brittle edge or deliberate avoidance from Teagan today.
If I’m being honest with myself—which I’m trying hard to do—I’m less guarded, too.
The conversation we carried until well past midnight lingers between us, unfolding into well-earned comfort this morning.
We pack the horses and saddle up as the sun crests over the mountain ridge, spilling gold across the rolling land. Frost doesn’t cling this today since we’ve been blessed with one of those rogue warm Montana early-spring mornings.
Teagan and I ride around the fence line, scanning for breaks, sagging wire, and posts split from the wind.
The prairie stretches endlessly around us in patches of thawed earth and stubborn snow tucked into shadowed dips that will start to melt when the sun rises higher in the sky.
We fall into a steady rhythm, fixing wires and posts with a level of efficiency that makes yesterday look like we’ve never done this before.
Teagan is more talkative during today’s ride. Actually, she doesn’t stop talking. Not that I mind in the slightest.
“You ever think about how much of this job is just chasing things that try to escape?” she asks toward the end of the day.
I glance over. “Cattle or people?”
She grins. “Depends on the day.”
I smile and shake my head. “Fence exists for a reason.”
“Yeah,” she says lightly. “So does open land.”
“Interesting take from a rancher’s daughter.”
“I get it.” She sighs with a shrug. “I’ve spent my whole life fenced in. And if my dad and brothers get their way, it’s how I’ll spend the rest of it. Roped to this ranch and stuck in this town. My fence just happens not to be made of wood and wire.”
“Someday, I hope you get to see what’s on the other side of the fence.”
“Yeah… me, too.”
She nudges Daisy on, testing her pace.
“Race you to that rise,” she calls over her shoulder before pushing a little harder.
I should decline. Instead, I press my heels into Ranger’s sides. We surge forward, and the wind cuts sharp against my face, the cold air tearing into my lungs. Hooves thunder against the earth, the rhythm vibrating through me with every powerful stride.
She’s fast. Daisy stretches out beneath her like she was born to run. Teagan doesn’t look back. She just trusts I’m there.
I lean forward, urging Ranger to keep pace, but barely staying on her tail.
At the base of the rise, she encourages Daisy into a full gallop.
She drops the reins—completely—and for a brief second, I think she’s in distress.
Her hands rise from the horn, and she lifts her arms outward, as if she’s offering herself to the sky.
Blonde hair tears free from her braid, the long locks catching in the sun in wild strands of gold as they flow in the air behind her.
She tips her head back slightly, exposing her throat to the open air.
Pure joy breaks free across her features, unfiltered and fierce. She’s not performing or showboating.
She’s free.
Alive.
Living boldly for those who can’t.
Watching her, I can’t help but smile. Not the tight, restrained version I’ve grown used to, but a real, genuine smile. It pulls at muscles I have long forgotten existed.
The setting sun ignites the horizon in streaks of orange and fire, bathing her in light, like the land itself is showing me how amazing she is.
“Go, wildfire!” I shout after her.
Teagan Wilson…. She’s so free and alive that it’s contagious. She wakes up parts of me I thought died with Rosie. Wanting her feels like betrayal, but denying it feels like another kind of death. And I’m so tired of grieving.
The first drops of rain fall without warning, light at first. Nothing more than cold pinpricks against my overheated skin. Teagan doesn’t slow. Instead, she tips her head back further, letting them fall upon her face. The rain droplets dot her cheeks and cling to her lashes.
A lively laugh billows from her, bright and reckless. The bold sound carries across open land like something untamed. It hits me square in the chest.
The clouds shift faster than they should. I glance away from Teagan to the west. The sky is dark. Too dark.
BOOM!
Thunder splits the air so violently it rattles my teeth. The rain grows from scattered drops to icy sheets in seconds. Startled, Teagan squeals as she snaps upright, grabbing for the reins when Daisy tosses her head.
“This wasn’t on the radar!” she shouts over the sudden roar. “Deacon never would’ve sent us out in this!”
Wind slams into us sideways, biting and merciless.
“We can’t stay out here in this!” I yell back as Ranger sidesteps with unease. “We need to set up camp!”
“In this?!” she scoffs with wide eyes, rain plastering her golden locks to her face.
“You got a better idea?”
“Yeah!” she shouts as a bolt of lightning forks across the sky dangerously close. Daisy lunges forward into a sprint.
“Teagan!” I bark, but she’s already tearing along the fence line.
Left with no choice but to follow, I nudge Ranger hard, and we give chase.
Rain soaks through my clothes within seconds, turning the fabric heavy and useless.
The icy rain burns against my skin. The ground turns slick beneath pounding hooves.
Wind howls across the prairie, bending grass flat as we race the storm. Teagan rides like she’s done this before—bent low over Daisy’s neck, reins tight now, and focused.
Another crack of thunder explodes overhead, and my pulse pounds in my ears. Water blinds my vision, lashes sticking together. Ranger fights for footing as mud begins to form under the impact.
“Where are you going?” I shout, but the wind swallows it, and she doesn’t look back.
Fence posts blur past, and the temperature drops fast. Too fast. The rain is relentless. Lightning splits the sky again, illuminating the land in stark white for half a heartbeat. In that flash, I spot her silhouette ahead, strong and unyielding against the storm.
Fear coils tight in my gut. Not for me, but for her. I hesitantly push Ranger harder, and we close the distance slightly. “Teagan!” I shout again, my voice raw.
She angles left suddenly, cutting toward a low dip in the land near a sparse line of pine. I follow without question, racing straight for whatever she believes will save us.