Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
Hazel
By noon the next day, we find them.
Twelve head, all bunched up in a shallow draw a mile past the tree line, grazing like nothing in the world has ever gone wrong. No injuries. No blood. Just spooked, the way cattle get when something startles them hard enough to break instinct.
Relief comes first, sharp and dizzying.
Then the anger follows, slow and hot.
Because fences don't cut themselves.
We spend the better part of the morning pushing the herd back through the pasture, dust rising around hooves, the air full of lowing and the creak of saddle leather.
Eli moves the way he always does when he's focused, steady and sure, cutting off strays before they can wander.
I watch him without meaning to. Something about the way he handles the land and the animals still reaches straight through me.
Once the cattle are secured in the north pasture, we stop at the east fence line on the way back.
The wire dangles loose, cut clean through. No fraying. No rust break. No storm damage. Someone used wire cutters and knew exactly what they were doing.
Eli dismounts and crouches beside it, running his fingers along the severed edge. His expression hardens.
"Deliberate," he says quietly.
Cole's land runs right along this fence line. We both know it. Neither of us says it out loud.
The ride back to the ranch is quiet. Not strained. Not hostile. Just full. The kind of quiet that sits heavy between people who have too much to say and no idea where to start.
I can ignore the way my pulse kicks when he glances back at me. Ignore the tension that hasn't faded with time. I can set all of that aside if it means getting him back. The Eli from before everything cracked open.
Part of me wonders if nothing actually changed back then.
If I just finally saw what was already there and got scared enough to run.
The thought makes my stomach twist.
Back at the ranch, we unsaddle in the late-afternoon light, the sun slipping low and gold behind the hills. Leather thumps softly as gear is pulled free. Blaze nudges my shoulder, impatient for his grain, and I laugh despite myself, the sound small but real.
Eli works beside me in silence, efficient and controlled. When our hands brush passing a saddle blanket, the contact sends a spark through me that I pretend not to feel.
We lead the horses toward the barn, the smell of hay and warm animals wrapping around us like a memory.
That's when the sound of tires on gravel cuts through it.
I turn, one hand still on Blaze's reins, as a truck comes down the long drive. Slow. Deliberate.
Eli goes still beside me.
"Who is that?" I ask.
He doesn't answer. But his jaw sets in a way I recognize.
He knows.
The truck settles to a stop at the edge of the yard, dust lifting around the tires before drifting back down.
For a second, everything feels suspended.
Then the door swings open.
Cole Maddox steps out, all boots and hat tipped low, that practiced half-smile already in place.
"Hazel," he says, his gaze landing on me with easy confidence. ”I heard you’ve been working hard helping Eli.”
Eli is beside me before I even register him moving. Not touching, not quite, but close enough that I feel him there, solid and steady at my back. Whatever tension has been eating at us all day vanishes the second Cole opens his mouth. This isn't between me and Eli anymore.
This is something else.
Cole's eyes flick to Eli, linger, then come back to me. "That's real good of you, considering you've got that job waiting in Denver."
The implication lands clean: You're temporary.
"I'm here as long as Mae needs me," I say.
"Is that right." His smile doesn't waver. "Well, that's sweet of you. Mae's lucky to have family stepping up." He pauses, just long enough. "Even if it's just for a visit."
Heat creeps up my neck.
"Watch it," Eli says flatly.
Cole just laughs, soft and easy. "Relax, Dawson. Just making conversation." He looks back at me. "Though I gotta say, Hazel, it's interesting timing. You show up right when things are getting tight around here. Almost like you knew."
"Knew what?" I ask.
"That Mae might need to make some hard choices."
Something in Eli shifts. I feel it more than see it—the way his body goes still, dangerous quiet settling over him.
Before it can go any further, the front door opens.
Aunt Mae steps out onto the porch, eyes sharp, posture calm. She takes in the scene in a single glance and misses nothing.
"Cole," she says pleasantly. "Please, come inside."
The words are polite.
The invitation is not.
Cole's smile widens. He gives me one last look, all easy confidence and calculated patience, then turns toward the house like he's already been invited to stay.
I watch him go, my pulse loud in my ears, then turn to Eli.
"What the hell was that about?"
He goes still for a beat. His gaze cuts once toward the house, then back to me, dark and closed off.
I catch his arm before he can walk away.
"Eli—"
"I can't go in there." His voice is tight, controlled. "Not with him."
I understand. If Eli's in that room when Cole starts talking numbers, it'll end with someone bleeding.
"I'll tell you everything," I say.
He nods once. Then heads for the barn, shoulders rigid, hands already curling into fists.
I hesitate for half a second.
Then I turn and go after Cole, my steps quickening as unease curls low in my stomach.
I push through the front door just in time to hear Aunt Mae's voice carrying down the hallway.
"Right this way, Cole."
Footsteps move toward my dad's old office, the sound muffled by thick rugs and years of use. I slow, instinct prickling, and follow at a distance.
The house feels different with him in it. Tighter. Like something unwelcome has been let past the threshold.
By the time I reach the office doorway, Cole is already inside, hat in hand, posture easy and respectful in a way that barely resembles the man who was just needling me in the yard. His voice is smooth now, measured.
"I appreciate you making time for me, Mae. I know things have been… complicated lately."
Aunt Mae gestures him toward one of the leather chairs. "Sit. Let's hear what you came all this way for."
I hover just outside the doorframe, watching him shift seamlessly into something else. No swagger. No barbs. Just confidence, polished and professional.
It makes my stomach turn.
This version of Cole is worse somehow. Sharper. More dangerous than the one who throws pointed comments in the yard. This one smiles with purpose.
He sits, folding his hands loosely in front of him. "I'll get right to it. I think there's a way we can both come out ahead here."
Aunt Mae's gaze flicks toward me.
Slow.
Weighing.
For a moment, I think I might be sent away. The idea of it—of being shut out of something that has my dad's name all over it—makes my chest tighten.
Finally, Mae speaks.
"Haze, you know things aren't getting any easier around here.
" Her voice is steady, but there's tiredness beneath it.
"I need to make some hard choices about the ranch.
Cole has a proposal for me, and I invited him here to tell me what's on his mind.
" She meets my eyes. "I reckon you can remain respectful, or you can go to the barn with Eli. Yes?"
The words land harder than I expect.
Cole Maddox. Of all people.
I swallow. I don't trust myself to speak.
So I nod.
Cole's mouth curves faintly, that polite, practiced expression still in place, and I hate how easily he wears it.
I take a step farther into the room and wait to hear what he's come to say.
The office still smells faintly like my dad. Old leather. Paper. The clean, dry edge of aftershave that no amount of time has ever fully erased. I stand just inside the door, hands folded tight in front of me, as Cole settles deeper into the chair across from dad's desk.
He rests his hat on his knee, posture relaxed, respectful. It's unsettling how easily he fits in the room.
"I'll keep this simple," Cole says. "Clark Ranch is carrying more weight than it should be. Feed costs, labor, repairs, auction schedules. Things are tight. Tighter than you let on."
Mae doesn't respond. Just watches him, eyes steady.
"I'm not here to make that worse," he continues. "I'm here to offer breathing room."
My spine stiffens.
"By buying us," I say. "You mean taking what isn't yours."
Cole's gaze slides to me, mild and measured. "I prefer to think of it as investing, Hazel. Keeping Clark Ranch in the family—with outside support."
Mae lifts a hand. "Hazel."
I fall silent, chest too tight to breathe.
Cole continues. "I'm offering to purchase a majority stake. You keep running it. You keep the Clark legacy intact. The name stays on the gate. I take on the financial risk."
"And what do you get?" Mae asks.
"A return," he says easily. "And a say. Nothing unreasonable."
I stare at him. "You think owning half of my family's ranch is nothing unreasonable?"
"Mae's the one carrying the weight," he says simply. "I'm here to help lighten that load."
The words hit harder than I expect. He doesn't raise his voice. Just lets the truth sit there, sharp and clean.
Mae hasn't moved. Her hands rest on the desk, fingers laced. Thinking. Weighing.
"You're asking me to sell my brother's life," Mae says quietly.
"I'm asking you to save it," Cole replies. "Before the bank decides to do it for you."
Silence stretches.
I feel like I'm standing in the middle of something fragile. Something already cracking.
A folder slides out from under his arm and onto the desk. Neat. Organized. Official.
"I always come prepared."
Mae doesn't touch it.
For a long moment, no one speaks.
Then she exhales slowly and straightens. "Thank you for your time, Cole. I'll review the terms with my lawyer and be in touch."
My stomach drops.
She's not saying no.
There's no commitment in her voice. But there isn't dismissal either.
Cole stands, smooth and unhurried. "That's all I ask."
He gives me a small, unreadable smile as he takes his hat. "Good seeing you again, Hazel."
I can't bring myself to answer.
He leaves the room with the same quiet confidence he brought into it.
The door clicks shut.
For a second, I can't move. Can't breathe.
Mae is actually considering it.
The realization hits like a physical blow.
I spin toward my aunt.
"You can't possibly be considering this." My voice cracks. "Aunt Mae. Daddy would roll over in his grave. So would Grandpa. Selling controlling stakes to the Maddoxes? How can you even think about that?"
Mae draws a slow breath, the kind that comes from deep in her chest.
"Haze," she says gently, "I know this is hard.
But I'm not getting any younger." She rests her hands on the desk, fingers splayed.
"And as you've noticed, I can't maintain this land the way it needs anymore.
I was never the trainer. That was your daddy.
He was the one who could bring a horse along, who could turn nothing into something worth betting on. "
Her voice doesn't break, but something fragile lives underneath it.
"We don't make enough with cattle alone to sustain this operation. Not anymore. We've already cut down to a skeleton crew. You see the roofs that need patching, the fences we can't afford to replace, the equipment that keeps breaking. I just…" She exhales. "I don't see a way out."
I shake my head, panic rising fast and sharp.
"I have a plan," I say. "We train the colt. Get Addie to ride him at the Fall Classic. It won't solve everything overnight, but if we place well, we can use that momentum to start calling former clients. A good showing gives us credibility again."
Mae's expression doesn't change.
"I know it's not immediate money," I continue, faster now. "But Cole's offer won't close tomorrow either. Deals like that take weeks, maybe months. This buys us time. And if it works—if we can show the boarding program is viable again—you have leverage to say no."
Her gaze lifts to me.
There's a question in it she doesn't say out loud.
I see it anyway.
I look away.
"Just let me try," I say, desperation creeping in. "We can train the colt. Get Addie to ride. If people see we're producing show horses again, if they see we have riders and talent here, maybe the boarders will come back. Maybe the money will follow."
Mae studies me for a long moment.
Then she nods.
"All right," she says quietly. "Let's see what you've got."
I don't wait for anything else.
I turn and run for the barn, boots hitting the floor hard, heart pounding with something that feels dangerously close to hope.
If I'm going to save this ranch, I can't do it alone.
I need Eli.
Not just as foreman. As partner.
The way it should have been from the start.