Chapter 7 Caleb
CALEB
I woke before the sun did, the way I always did when something mattered. The cabin was quiet in that deep-country way. Just the soft creak of old wood settling, the low chorus of insects outside, and the steady, even breathing coming from down the hall where Lucas slept.
The couch creaked as I got up to check on Marisol.
She was curled on her side, her dark hair spilling across the pillow.
One hand tucked under her cheek like she’d finally run out of fight.
In the low light, she looked younger than she had any right to.
Not because she was a kid, but because exhaustion had stripped her down to something bare and honest. There was no mask on her face in sleep.
No grit. No stubbornness. No careful control.
Just a woman who’d been holding up her whole world alone and had finally put it down long enough to rest.
I stood there for one more heartbeat and let myself sink into the memory of the warmth of her body, the heat of her mouth on mine, and the way she’d hung onto me like I was the only thing preventing her from drowning.
I knew better than to let my mind wander, but it did anyway, sliding back into every sound she’d made, every time her nails dug into my shoulders, every moment I’d had to grit my teeth and hold myself back from giving her everything I wanted to give her.
Then reality came crashing in the way it always did. Lucas. The threat. The intercept attempt. The fact that we were on borrowed time.
I went back to the main room, pulled on jeans and boots, then stepped outside.
The air hit my lungs clean and cool, carrying the smell of damp grass and horses and wood smoke from somewhere near the main house.
The ranch spread out under the faint edge of dawn, shadowed pasture rolling into darker fence lines, a few barn lights glowing like steady eyes.
I hadn’t brought them here to hide. I’d brought them here because this land was mine in a way Valor Springs never would be.
Not the property. Mama Mae owned the land, and she’d earned every inch of it.
What I meant was the people. The eyes. The hands.
The men who didn’t ask questions when I said, “I need you,” because they already knew what I meant.
A truck sat at the gate, idling low. I could see the silhouette of one of my brothers inside, his elbow hanging out the window, his head turning slow as he scanned the road.
Another shadow moved along the ridge line above the north pasture, a dark shape against the paling sky.
I trusted they had everything covered, but I walked the perimeter anyway. Near the fence corner, my brother Owen stepped out from behind a mesquite tree, a thermal cup in one hand.
“Did you sleep at all?” he asked.
“Some.”
He snorted. “That’s your idea of a vacation.”
“It’s my idea of not getting somebody killed.”
Owen lifted his chin toward the cabin. “They good?”
“They’re breathing.”
“Then that’s a yes.”
I accepted the coffee he offered, took a sip, and let the heat wash away the lingering sleepiness. “How do things stand this morning?”
“Gate’s covered. Ridge line’s covered. Brody is doing a slow loop with the dog. We’ve got eyes on the road and eyes on the property line.”
“Keep it that way.”
Owen studied me for a second, then smiled like he’d seen something funny. “Mae’s been waiting for you to come home for years.”
“Where is she?” I asked.
“In the kitchen. Running everyone’s lives, same as always.”
I handed him the coffee and headed toward the main house.
The house was already awake. The porch light was off, but the windows glowed. Inside, the kitchen clattered with the sound of pans and voices and the kind of warmth that made a place feel like home.
I stepped in, and Mama Mae turned from the stove like she’d sensed me coming.
“You look like you’ve been wrestling a bull,” she said, flipping an egg with sharp, practiced ease.
“Good morning to you too.”
She slid a plate onto the counter, then another, then another, moving like a general feeding an army. “Did Lucas eat last night?”
“Barely.”
“He’ll eat today,” she said. “Boy’s been running on fear and pride. Give him a horse and a full belly, he’ll come back down to earth.”
I set my hands on the counter. “We’re not staying long.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you planning to leave my property before the sun’s even up?”
“I’m planning to make sure no one can find them.”
“They won’t,” she said.
I met her gaze. “They tried to intercept a convoy in Valor Springs.”
“That wasn’t here.”
“It could be,” I said.
Mama Mae wiped her hands on a towel and leaned in closer. “Then we make sure it won’t be.”
I pulled my phone out and opened the notes I’d been taking since we crossed the county line.
“Then I need two trucks on the road,” I told her. “One visible. One not. I need eyes at the gate and eyes along the property line all day. I need Lucas inside the fence unless I’m with him.”
Mama Mae nodded, already reaching for her own phone. “Done.”
“And I need you to keep the house busy,” I added. “Make it look normal. If anyone comes sniffing around, I want them thinking this is a ranch full of people who don’t leave their doors unlocked.”
Her mouth twitched. “Hon, this house has been loud since way before you ever got here. You’re not asking for much.”
“I’m asking for everything.”
Mama Mae’s expression softened just a fraction. “I know you are.”
She tapped a contact and started texting like a woman who could summon a small militia with a few words. “Owen’s on ridge. Brody has the dog. I’ll send Kane to the gate for the day shift. And I’m putting Callum on the road.”
I blinked. “Callum is in town?”
“He is, and he’s got nothing better to do than act like he’s busy when I tell him to,” she said. “You want eyes, I’m giving you eyes.”
That was why she scared people. Not because she was loud. Not because she was sharp. But because she loved like a storm and didn’t apologize for it.
I grabbed two plates from the counter, loaded with eggs and biscuits and bacon, and started toward the door.
Mama Mae’s voice followed me. “Caleb.”
I paused. She didn’t sound like a commander anymore. She sounded like the woman who’d raised me.
“You take care of that girl,” she said quietly.
I swallowed. “I am.”
“And don’t confuse protecting her with owning her.”
That one landed. I didn’t flinch, but my chest tightened. “Yes, ma’am.”
Mama Mae snorted like she’d heard my tone and didn’t believe me for a second. “Go on. Feed them.”
I left before she could say anything else.
Lucas was awake when I got back, sitting at the table with his hair sticking up and a scowl on his face.
Marisol stood by the sink, rinsing a glass, her hair piled high and messy. She had on an old T-shirt that did nothing to hide her curves and my flannel thrown over it. The sight hit me harder than it should have. Like she belonged here. Like she was made to be part of my world.
She turned when I walked in. Her gaze found mine, then dropped, then lifted again like she didn’t know where to put it. There was a faint flush on her cheeks that hadn’t been there yesterday. She remembered everything too.
I set the plates down. “Eat.”
Lucas stared at the food, then at me. “Are we prisoners?”
“No.”
“Then why can’t we leave?”
“Because someone tried to hurt you,” I said, keeping my voice level. “And until we know that’s done, you don’t go wandering.”
His jaw tightened. “I didn’t do anything.”
I leaned on the table. “You’re right. You didn’t. But you got pulled into something bigger than you. That happens sometimes. Now we’re going to make sure you and your sister survive it.”
Lucas opened his mouth like he wanted to argue. Then he glanced at Marisol. Something in his face shifted. The anger drained into something smaller that looked like shame or maybe fear. Probably a mix of both. He grabbed a piece of bacon and took a bite.
Marisol exhaled softly and slid into the chair next to him, her hand resting on his shoulder for a second. He didn’t shrug it off. That alone told me how tired he really was.
Lucas pointed his fork toward the window. “Why are there guys everywhere?”
“Because they’re family,” I said.
He frowned. “Your family.”
“My family,” I confirmed. “And if you’re on this land, you’re under their protection too.”
Lucas glanced at Marisol again. His shoulders loosened, just a fraction, like the idea of being guarded by something bigger than his own fear was finally sinking in. He tried to hide it with attitude. “Do I get a gun?”
“No.”
“A knife?”
“No.”
“A horse?”
I paused, then looked at him. “Maybe.”
His eyes lit up so fast it almost broke my chest open.
Marisol shot me a look. “Caleb.”
“I didn’t say yes,” I told her, then leaned closer to Lucas. “You eat. You listen. You do what I say. Then we can talk about horses.”
Lucas nodded hard while Marisol watched the exchange like she couldn’t decide whether to be grateful or annoyed.
I’d finally found a way to connect with him. If that meant putting him on the back of a horse, I’d do it.