Chapter Four
Four
T he following morning, Eli’s breath fogged in the chilled air of the arena as he guided the colt through a precise pattern. He’d worked for Jaxon’s father every summer growing up, training horses and working the ranch. He’d moved briefly to Seattle, opening up a carpentry business, but his heart wasn’t in it. He’d come home to Timber Falls briefly before following his dream to compete as a bull rider on the rodeo circuit. Only that dream never happened, his sister’s murder did. His only regret was that he hadn’t stayed in Timber Falls when he’d returned from Seattle.
He should have stayed. For Miranda.
The colt’s sleek black coat gleamed under the dim overhead lights, its breath matching Eli’s in visible puffs. Due to the winter’s bite that seeped through the walls, Eli was wrapped in layers—a heavy jacket hugging his shoulders, and thick deer hide gloves.
Across the arena, Jaxon and Gunner were lost in their own rhythms with their horses. At any given moment, they each had at least six young horses in training. After being weaned, some of the horses were sold while others remained for in-house training. All three of the men had been taught everything they knew by Jaxon’s father. He had established a strong reputation for breeding top-notch quarter horses, and Jaxon was carrying on the tradition after his father’s passing. Eli felt honored to be a part of such a legacy. His bull riding dreams a faint memory now.
The creak of the gate cut through the muffled thumps of hooves on the sandy floor, drawing Eli’s gaze. Charly stepped inside, her presence a warm contrast to the cold. Her brunette hair was tucked beneath a woolen cap.
“Hey guys,” she called out, her voice carrying across the arena. “Mind if we chat for a quick second?”
Eli slowed his horse to a walk, heading in her direction.
Jaxon trotted over, dismounting with ease, wrapping an arm around Charly and giving her a proper kiss. “What’s up?” he asked.
Charly glanced at Eli and Gunner before speaking, her brow furrowed. “I wondered if you’d heard anything yet about the comment about Willow,” she said.
Eli’s heart lurched at the mention of Willow’s name. He nudged the colt toward her, needing to hear more. “What comment?” he asked.
Charly’s concerned gaze met his. “Someone made a nasty post about her on the bar’s social media.”
“Saying what?” Eli pressed.
“That she’s a liar and making up stories about abuse,” Charly continued, her words like ice shards in Eli’s chest.
“Damn that’s harsh,” Gunner muttered, resting his arm on the horn of the saddle. His usual sly grin was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a scowl that mirrored Eli’s sudden fury.
“They’re accusing her of being a liar?” Eli’s voice was a low growl, the reins tight in his grip. That was a venomous lie aimed at someone who’d already endured too much pain—he could feel his stomach knotting in response.
“Yeah.” Charly gave a soft nod and then slowly shook her head. “I have no idea why anyone would post that, but I definitely want to be one step ahead of this. I don’t want it to get worse.”
“We won’t let that happen,” Jaxon said, tugging her closer. “I hadn’t a chance to ask Eli or Gunner yet, but I asked some of the cowboys earlier. No one has heard a bad thing about Willow.”
“Okay,” Charly said, nibbling her lip. She glanced from Eli to Gunner. “You’ll ask around too?”
“Of course,” Eli replied, and he meant it. “Is Willow okay?”
Charly’s eyes softened in the way they always did when she talked about Willow. The love that she and Aubrey had for Willow was a living, breathing, beautiful thing. “Truthfully, not really.”
Eli’s jaw set.
“We’ll get to the bottom of this,” Jaxon promised.
“I’ll call if I hear anything,” Charly said, and then with a final kiss to Jaxon, she left the arena.
Eli’s mind raced. The urge to hunt the prick that hurt Willow burned in his gut. “Willow doesn’t deserve this,” he said, more to himself than to his friends, his body rigid atop the horse that now sensed his disquiet and began backing up.
Jaxon answered anyway, “No, she doesn’t.”
Eli’s hand tightened around the leather reins, and the colt threw up his head. “Damn it,” he growled under his breath, dismounting the colt so as not to feed the horse his tension. “We can’t let that kind of poison spread.”
Jaxon nodding solemnly, while Gunner removed his tan-colored cowboy hat and brushed a hand through his tousled hair, his expression grim. “Nobody’s going to believe that crap. Willow’s a good one. Everyone knows that.”
“Reputation’s a fragile thing in a town like Timber Falls,” Eli responded. “It ain’t just about her safety. It’s what people believe. Lies like these—they fester, poison everything.” He pulled the reins over the colt’s head. “Besides,” he continued, “this isn’t just some petty online jab. Willow’s been through hell and back. She’s building something good, something real for people.” His jaw tightened as he thought of Willow’s unwavering strength, her resilience. “How fucking dare someone try and hurt her and this group.”
“Agreed,” Gunner added, his voice a low growl.
Eli pulled his cell from the back pocket of his jeans, opened the app and read the comment for himself. His grip tightened around the phone, his fingers shaking with rage. He could feel the anger bubbling up inside of him.
“We need to do something about this,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “We can’t just let her be attacked like this.”
Gunner and Jaxon nodded in agreement, their own anger palpable in the air.
Eli’s hand shook as he scrolled through the poster’s account, finding nothing but blank posts. “Looks like a throwaway account,” he said, his voice thick with anger. “Fucking coward.”
Gunner asked, “Any followers of the account?”
“No,” Eli said. “No profile picture either.”
Gunner shook his head in clear frustration. “This makes no sense. Who would do this to her?”
Eli felt the weight of the moment settle on his shoulders. He knew what she was up against—the whispers, the judgement, the narrowed eyes. He headed for the gate leading back into the barn.
“Where are you going?” Jaxon called.
He growled, “To fix this.”
He handed the horse off to the newest Timber Falls cowboy, Casey. “He’s done.”
Casey took the reins and headed off to untack the horse and put him back out to pasture, whistling as he went.
Eli’s boots crunched on the snow-covered gravel as he strode away, his gaze fixed on the dented up old pickup that had seen more miles than he cared to count. The early morning sun cast a warm glow over the dashboard as he fired up the engine, its familiar rumble picking away at the tension in his shoulders.
The drive into town was a silent one. Eli’s thoughts, however, were anything but quiet. They buzzed nonstop, swarming with images of Willow’s warm eyes and the Empowerment Elves she’d cleverly crafted.
The pickup rolled to a stop down the street from the Timber Falls Gazette, its old stone building standing stark against the clear blue sky. He exited his truck, and as he walked down the road, surrounded by the rustic charm of the two-lane street with quaint shops on either side, people moved out of his way.
He pushed through the glass door, the bell jingling overhead announcing his arrival. The office was quiet with the news channel being played on the television screen. But it was Sally, seated behind her cluttered desk adorned with a small potted cactus and scattered papers, who drew his immediate attention.
“Hey, Sally,” he called.
Sally looked up, her face breaking into a smile that was both familiar and comforting. Her eyes, a soft brown, held the kind of understanding that shared pain evoked. Sally had been his sister’s best friend.
“Well, well, isn’t this a good surprise,” she replied, her pen coming to a rest beside the open notebook on her desk. “What brings you by?”
He approached, taking a seat in the chair in front of her desk. “I was hoping you could help me.”
Sally’s brows rose. “With?”
“A friend of mine, Willow—she owns The Naked Moose with Charly and Aubrey.”
Sally smiled. “I’ve met them all.”
“Good—that’ll make this easier.” He mirrored the smile. “Willow has got this Christmas craft group going called Empowerment Elves...” He caught her up on what the group was all about and the comment on the bar’s social media account.
When he finished, a shadow of pain flickered across Sally’s features, a mirror to Eli’s own heartache. She remembered too well the loss. “Of course, I’ll help in any way I can,” she said, her voice soft yet steady. “What a wonderful cause.”
He agreed with a nod. “Thank you, Sally. Means more than I can say.”
Sally paused a moment, curiosity brimming in her eyes. “You know,” she began, swiveling slightly in her chair, opening her drawer, “there might be another way to drum up some more financial support too.”
She sifted through its contents until her hand emerged clutching a glossy piece of paper. She turned back to him and extended the flyer. “The annual Timber Falls Rodeo is next weekend,” she said, her tone casual but laced with intention. “Winner takes home five grand.”
Eli’s gaze fixed on the bold letters emblazoned across the flyer, a rush of adrenaline coursing through him. His fingers twitched as if already feeling the tug of a rope, the thud of hooves against dirt, but he held himself still.
“Five thousand could sure cover a lot of Christmas miracles,” Sally added, watching his reaction closely.
He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, eyes tracing the lines of the flyer. The thought of entering the rodeo lit a fire in his belly, one that had been doused years ago when he’d hung up his spurs for good.
But could he?
Should he?
“Sounds like a lot of money for a good cause,” Eli murmured. The possibility of getting in the ring again sent shivers down his spine. He could almost hear the roar of the crowd, feel the beast beneath him bucking for freedom.
“Look, no pressure,” she said softly, willing him to meet her gaze. “It’s just an option. There are other ways we can help Willow raise money for the shelter. Hopefully I can do the story justice and donations will come in.”
“You will kill it, like always,” Eli said with a smile. “Thank you. For this.” He gestured to the flyer. “And for writing the story.”
“You never need to thank me, Eli” she said.
Eli gave a final nod and headed for the door, feeling the stir of something akin to hope fluttering in his chest.
Later that afternoon, Willow moved with a sense of purpose around The Naked Moose. She carefully arranged the tables into a long row. She sorted through an array of craft supplies, setting out scissors, glue guns, and ribbons, all the while thinking of that thoughtless comment and hating how much it got inside her head.
She was fanning out stacks of colored paper and jars filled with buttons and beads when the door swung open, jangling the rustic bell above. Sally Carter, the local reporter for the Timber Falls Gazette , entered with a vibrancy that she always had when she came into the bar. Her eyes sparkled with an energy that was as infectious as it was genuine, her notebook clutched in her hand.
“Hi, Willow, hope I’m not too early,” Sally chirped.
She’d called a few hours ago to inquire about Empowerment Elves and asked if she could write a story on the group. “Perfect timing, actually,” Willow replied. After the comment, Sally’s interest was the bit of good news she needed. “I’m just finishing up with the setup.”
“Mind if I take a look around? It’s amazing what you’re doing here,” Sally said, her eyes sweeping over the half-full box of Christmas cards from yesterday’s event.
“Of course, make yourself at home.” Willow watched as Sally moved to the box.
She leaned in to examine a pile of cards. “These are beautiful. The personal touch really shines through.”
“Thank you,” Willow responded, tucking her hands into her jean pockets. “Every piece crafted here carries a story—pieces of bravery and resilience.”
Sally nodded, scribbling notes. “I can’t wait to share this event. The community needs to see the strength gathered around these tables.”
Willow agreed, but did grow curious. “Can I ask how you found about what we’re doing here? Through social media?”
“Eli asked me to do the story.”
Willow’s heart skipped a beat. “Eli asked you to do this story?” she repeated.
“Yep,” Sally confirmed with an enthusiastic nod. “He thinks what you’re doing here is pretty amazing. Said it deserved to be in the spotlight.”
An unexpected rush coursed through Willow’s veins. She found herself momentarily speechless with gratitude threatening to spill over. “I...wow, I didn’t expect him to do that.”
Sally’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “It’s not just about the story for me either. I was best friends with Eli’s sister, you know. This—” she gestured around the room lined with glitter, glue and courage “—this cause is close to my heart too.”
Willow returned the smile. “Then this story is in the right hands.”
“Absolutely,” Sally replied. “Let’s make sure everyone hears about the incredible work happening right here.” She glanced around. “Is this where the magic happens?”
“Every bit of it,” Willow replied, casting a proud glance around the room.
Sally leaned in, her eyes scanning the array of supplies on the table. “And the community’s been supportive?”
“More than I ever imagined,” Willow said, leaving out the horrible comment from a likely troll. “Local businesses donated materials. I can definitely give you their names.”
“Please,” Sally said.
Right then, the door opened, ushering in a draft of crisp mountain air and a half dozen women. Laughter and soft greetings filled the space, making Willow’s skin tingle with anticipation.
“Everyone, this is Sally. She’s doing a story in the Gazette about Empowerment Elves,” Willow announced, gesturing toward the reporter with an affectionate smile.
“Hi, Sally!” chorused the Empowerment Elves, each member radiating a mix of excitement and curiosity.
“Can’t wait to see what you all create,” Sally responded.
“Let’s get started, then,” Willow declared.
As the women gathered around the tables, the room pulsed with an electric enthusiasm, and Willow turned to Sally. “Thank you for telling our story and getting the word out there. It matters more than you know.”
“Thank Eli.” Sally gave a knowing grin. “This was all him.”
Willow just smiled, but those guards protecting her heart shattered a little.
Hours zoomed by as the craft group finished up. Sally left, then everyone else did too.
The sun had set hours ago, and The Naked Moose pulsed with life, along with the strum of Gunner’s guitar. On stage, Gunner sat on a stool with a microphone in front of him, his fingers dancing over the strings, weaving melodies that wrapped around the bar like a warm embrace. His voice was rich and low, and set hearts on fire, given all the women staring at him with love in their eyes. Willow still found it hard to believe his record label had told him to leave Nashville to write new music. She thought his old music was better than anything she’d heard, even if she wasn’t a huge country music lover.
She watched from behind the bar, the soft glow of the neon lights behind her as she poured another round of drinks. The hum of conversations and laughter mixed with the music made her smile, regardless of the comment still remaining heavy on her mind.
Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, a few strands framing her face. She moved with practiced ease, her eyes scanning the crowd for empty glasses and signals for refills.
The atmosphere was infectious, even to her, who had seen countless nights just like this one. Yet, there was something invigorating about the way people came together under their bar—strangers becoming friends, worries dissolving away.
Gunner’s voice suddenly silenced as did the strings of his guitar. His blond hair fell into his eyes as he grinned, his charm palpable even from across the room. She couldn’t help but laugh. The ladies loved Gunner.
Except for Aubrey.
He seemed to get right under her skin. And Willow hadn’t quite figured that one out yet. Aubrey barely acknowledged his existence. Willow figured Aubrey was about as done with men as Willow was.
Right then, her cell vibrated in the back pocket of her jeans. She lifted the cell phone, a sense of cold fingers wrapping around her spine.
“Willow, we need more whiskey at table nine,” called Aubrey, but her voice seemed distant, muffled by the sudden rush of blood in her ears.
With a flick of her thumb, she unlocked the screen, and her breath caught as she realized she hadn’t read the text wrong. Stark against the backlight, words formed a jagged sentence, a venomous message that branded itself onto her mind: Keep telling your lies, bitch !
For a moment, time stopped. Her grip on the phone tightened, knuckles whitening as she read the text again, hoping she had somehow misread it. But the hateful words remained unchanged, their threat echoing in the hollow of her chest—they knew her phone number.
Her pulse hammered in her temples as dread unfurled within her. Her eyes darted across the bar, searching for a sign, any clue that might reveal the identity of the sender. Could it be Niko? Her stomach twisted at the thought. He had every reason to hate her, every reason to destroy her from behind bars. Or was someone in town screwing with her?
She scanned the faces in the crowd, scrutinizing each one. Laughter erupted near the pool tables and couples swayed to Gunner’s voice. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching her.
Panic began clawing at her insides. It had been long months since she last felt this level of fear, months since she fought tooth and nail to put Niko away and protect herself from his violent interpretation of love. And now, with a single message, those walls she’d meticulously built seemed to crumble when suddenly, her gaze snagged on a pair of piercing eyes that cut through the chaos.
Eli’s rugged features etched with concern. His gaze held hers and held fast. In that steady gaze, she found something unexpected— relief .
He navigated the crowd with determined strides, a path clearing before him as if the crowd sensed the urgency emanating from him.
She felt the warmth of his calloused hand before she saw it, the touch grounding her. “Eli,” she whispered.
“Come with me.” His words were gentle but insistent. Without waiting for her response, he wrapped his fingers around hers, firm and reassuring.
Eli led her through the throng of people, every step away from the stage where Gunner still sang a country ballad. Her hand trembled within his grasp, yet the strength of his hold promised safety, as confusing as that was.
His hand was a lifeline as he led Willow out the back door to the alleyway’s far end, away from prying eyes and too-close walls. The night air, crisp and cool, brushed against her hot skin.
“Willow,” Eli said softly, as he flipped over a milk crate and helped her sit on it. “Breathe with me, deep and slow.”
She obeyed, focusing on the rhythm of his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. She followed the rise and fall of his chest, calming the erratic pulse that hammered at her temples.
“Better?” he asked after a few moments, his thumb brushing the back of her hand in a soothing motion.
She nodded, the knot of panic in her stomach loosening ever so slightly. “Yes, better,” she affirmed, her voice still a whisper but steadier now. “Thank you.”
Eli’s gaze held hers, unwavering. “Can you tell me what happened in there?”
The concern etched in the lines of his face, the steadiness in his eyes, all spoke of protection. Willow felt the connection between them pull taut, a thread laced with something more than just shared experiences.
“It was a text,” she started, the words spilling out. She unlocked her phone and lifted it to him.
Eli’s jaw set into a hard line. Until he met her eyes again and his expression softened. “Do not believe what this person is saying.” His voice was a low rumble, filled with unwavering conviction. “And they sure as hell don’t get to threaten you and hide behind a damn screen.”
The bar’s raucous laughter and Gunner’s voice filtered out into the night, but here in their quiet corner, she could only stare into the warmth of Eli’s eyes.
“I’m trying not to let this affect me,” she whispered, the coldness of fear slowly melting away under his warmth. “I’ve been trying to forget my past, to start over here, but these messages...they’re dragging me back to a place I thought I’d escaped, and I hate that.” She drew in a sharp breath, shaking her head. “I’m not that scared person anymore.”
“That text would rattle me,” he said firmly. “Every word in that message was meant to break you, but they don’t know you.” His eyes blazed with an intensity that burned away the panic. “You’re stronger than they’ll ever be, and we’ll find out who’s doing this.”
“How?” she asked.
“Leave it with me, all right?” he implored. “I’m going to help you and we’ll stop them.”
She blinked up at him, and somehow ...she believed him.
His thumb brushed over the back of her hand in a soothing gesture, and it occurred to her in that moment that he’d come there tonight to see how she was doing. Here was a man who knew pain, who carried his own scars, offering her a safe shelter, after she’d totally and outright pushed him away.
“Okay,” she breathed out.
“Let’s head back inside,” he suggested, releasing her hand but not the invisible thread that had woven itself between them. “Do not let them ruin your night.”
He said it so adamantly that it brooked no argument, and she lifted her chin and reminded herself, “I won’t ever let anyone ruin my night again.”
“Atta girl.” He grinned.
Then went to open the door. “Wait,” she called. When he turned back to her, she added, “Thank you for talking to Sally today for me. For writing the story about the group.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” he said.
She closed the distance, hoping her gratitude showed on her expression. “I do. It really meant a lot. Thank you.”
Softness reached his typically hard eyes. “You’re welcome, Willow.” He whisked the door open.
And as she headed back inside, she focused on that gratitude and not on the way her body flushed at his tender, low voice.