Chapter 2 Rowan
ROWAN
The morning hit crisp and bright, the kind of cold that made the air feel clean enough to cut.
I stepped out onto the porch with a mug of steaming coffee and a headache I blamed on too little sleep and too many worries.
I shouldn’t have gone out the night before, and yet I knew deep down it had to be done.
I had needed to see for myself that the Kings were dealing with whatever mess they had gotten me and my land involved in.
I sat down on the bench on the porch, leaning forward as I watched a red-tailed swampy flying overhead.
It didn’t matter that I had grown up on this land, or that I had seen thousands of sunrises and sunsets over these hills, I would always remain breathless and blessed when I saw sights like this.
I knew I was luckier than most. But in the same breath, I was also unluckier than most. I had gained a ranch and lost my parents.
In the time since, I had worked hard to maintain the land and keep on the staff.
My parents had worked real hard to keep the Hale Ranch going, and I didn’t want it to all go to hell because of me.
Though they had never wanted me working there at all, and had always sent me away for one reason or another—college, or life experience, or whatever.
It had nothing to do with love or a lack of it—I had never doubted their love for me—but once I was old enough, they had insisted that they wanted more for me than the ranch.
I never understood why, and it was the only good thing that came from their death—I could come home, finally.
My parents had loved me–of that I never doubted it, but for as far back as I could remember they had talked about me having a better life than them.
They had shipped me off to school and to college, and sent me away for long summers travelling.
I had experienced so much in my short life, and yet, despite all of that, all I ever wanted to do was come home and ride horses.
I stood up and walked to the edge of the porch, following the red-tailed swampy as it hovered for several beats before diving low and coming back up with something in its claws.
I took another swallow of coffee before taking the three steps down my porch and emptying the cooling liquid on the ground by some bushes. I cocked my head to one side, a frown pulling between my eyebrows.
The ranch was quiet—too quiet. Usually by sunrise the place hummed with life. Cattle lowing, wind rattling the barn doors, the old gelding pawing at the fence for breakfast. Today it all felt held back. Like the land itself was waiting for something. Or someone.
I hated that thought before it even finished forming.
I took a couple more steps forward, my gaze scanning the fence line before finding at least some of the issue.
Another section of fence was down. It was the fourth time this month.
At first I had put it down to bad luck. Then to weak posts.
But after a large section was taken out and the door to the barn left open meaning my animals got out, I knew it was something more.
I stared down at the tracks, already noting that they weren’t from any animal.
This had been another deliberate break. Someone had been out here, again, messing with my land, my livelihood, my home.
I’d patched the last break myself, cursing the whole time, but this one was worse.
The wire was cut clean, the posts kicked out of place.
This wasn’t random. It wasn’t kids playing around, and it wasn’t nature.
I set my jaw and headed for the barn to grab my tools. I’d fix it. I always fixed it. That’s what you did when you were the last Hale standing.
It was the end of the season and the ranch was quiet now, most staff having finished for the season, so it was a job for just me unless I called Lloyd.
He’d been at the ranch since my parents had bought it all those years ago and he knew every inch of the land like the back of his own hand.
He wasn’t due back for a couple of months at least, since he’d decided to take some time off to go see his daughter over in Utah.
I shook my head and grumbled to myself, deciding against calling him. I’d sort this mess out myself, like I always did.
I’d just reached the barn door when I heard it: the low, rumbling growl of a motorcycle coming up the long dirt drive. My stomach dropped before my brain caught up, because I didn’t need to see the bike to know who it was.
Kings of Anarchy.
I stared at him as he drove up the road toward the ranch.
I recognized him from last night. I didn’t know his name, but I’d felt him the second he walked into the bar.
Big, quiet, watchful. The kind of man who didn’t need to throw his weight around because he carried it in the way he stood, the way he looked at the room, the way he looked at me.
I’d dismissed him. On purpose, of course. But now he was here, riding up my drive like he belonged on it. I stepped out from the barn, arms crossed, and my chin high.
The bike slowed, then stopped a few feet from me. He swung off, his boots hitting the dirt with a heavy thud. He took off his helmet, and the morning light caught in his dark hair. His blue eyes found me instantly, sharp and observant.
“Rowan Hale?” he asked, voice low and rough like gravel warmed by the sun as he stalked slowly toward me.
I didn’t answer right away. I let my silence do the talking. Let him feel the weight of it, and me.
“Depends who’s asking.”
His mouth twitched like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to smile or apologize. “Name’s Tex.”
I rolled my eyes. “Real original, darlin’.”
Now he did laugh. Deep and low. The rumble echoing through the space between us like something physical I could grab and hold.
“Something funny?” I finally asked.
He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, pushing one between his lips and lighting it. Then he looked up at me through his lashes, the cigarette still trapped between his lips.
“Never been called darlin’. That’s usually my job.”
I scoffed, irritated by everything he said and yet eager for him to talk more. I was a walking, talking cliché.
“Well, I don’t like being called darlin’, so I wouldn’t bother trying that line on me.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said around a mouthful of smoke.
“What do you want?”
“JD sent me,” he said. “Said you’ve been having trouble out here.”
I stiffened. “I can handle my own trouble.”
“Doesn’t look like it,” he said, nodding toward the broken fence.
Heat flared in my chest. Anger and embarrassment and something else I didn’t want to name. I hated that he’d noticed the broken fence right away. “Well, you don’t know a damn thing about what I can handle.”
He didn’t flinch and didn’t back down. He just looked at me with those steady eyes like he was trying to read the parts of me I kept locked up tight.
“Maybe not,” he said, “but I know sabotage when I see it, and since you put in a call to the cops about it, I’m guessing you want it to stop.”
The word hit harder than I expected. Sabotage.
Hearing someone else say it made it real in a way I’d been avoiding.
I hadn’t wanted to admit it to myself or anyone else, because it made it real.
When I’d phoned the cops, it had been in temper and I’d regretted immediately because not only did they not seem to take give much of a damn, but then later that day one of the kings of Anarchy had turned up to talk to me about it, bringing my worst fears to life.
I swallowed hard. “Why would anyone sabotage my ranch?”
“That’s what I’m here to find out, sweetheart.”
I hated that his voice was calm. I hated that he sounded sure. But mostly, I hated that a part of me—a small, traitorous part—felt relief at not being alone in this, and in knowing that I wasn’t going mad and that none of this was by accident.
“Sweetheart?” I said with a raised eyebrow and he cocked a wonky grin at me.
“You said you didn’t like to be called darlin’.”
I groaned and looked away from him. This man!
Tex looked at me for a long moment, then nodded once. “Look, JD asked me to look around and see if I noticed anything. I won’t be in your hair for too long.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he was already walking toward the fence, broad shoulders and large strides. His body moved with a quiet confidence that made something twist low in my stomach.
I followed him, boots crunching in the frost-stiff grass, telling myself I was only going to make sure he didn’t screw anything up. But the truth was simpler, and far more dangerous. I wanted to know what he’d find.
I followed Tex along the fence line, the cold morning air biting at my cheeks.
He walked a few steps ahead of me, broad shoulders cutting a clean line against the pale winter sun.
He didn’t talk and he didn’t fill the silence with pointless noise.
He just moved with this quiet, steady purpose that made something in me bristle and something else in me settle.
I hated that second part.
He crouched near the broken section of fence, gloved fingers brushing the cut wire. I stopped a few feet back, arms crossed tight over my chest, trying not to stare at the way his shirt stretched across his strong back when he leaned forward.
Focus, Rowan.
“What do you see?” I asked, sharper than I meant to.
Tex didn’t look up. “Wire’s cut clean. Not torn or weathered.” He touched the end of the metal, turning it slightly. “Bolt cutters.”
My stomach dipped. I already knew it, but hearing him say it made the truth land heavier.
It had happened several times this month already.
And each time it had taken hours to patch up the breaks and even longer to go and find the animals that had escaped.
But why anyone would want to mess with me like this, I had no clue.
“Could be kids,” I said, even though it sounded weak.
“Kids don’t use bolt cutters,” he replied. “And they don’t kick out posts this deep.” He tapped the base of the nearest post with his boot. “This took force and intent.”
I swallowed hard. “You’re sure.”
“Yeah.” He finally stood, brushing dirt from his hands. “Someone wanted this fence down.”
I hated the way my pulse jumped. I hated the way fear tried to creep in.
I’d been holding this ranch together with grit and stubbornness for months now, and I didn’t have room for fear.
All I had wanted was to come back home to the place where I had always felt safe and loved.
I’d wanted to watch sunrises and sunsets, ride horses and say my quiet goodbyes to my parents.
Tex watched me, eyes steady, unreadable. “How long’s this been happening?”
I thought about lying to him. But what would be the point in lying?
He could see as well as I could what had happened, and if the ranch had caught the attention of the Kings so much that they had sent one of their men to come take a look, well, I was in enough trouble to know that I needed to tell him everything.
“A couple of months,” I said. “It started small. Tools going missing. Gates left open and animals getting out, even though I’m careful to always lock them away.
Then the fences started being…” I gestured toward the broken fence.
“Last week one of our mares got out and when we found her she was…well, let’s just say she’s no good for breeding anymore. ”
He pulled a face of irritation and I knew it was for me not at me. “You report it?”
“To who?” I snorted. “The sheriff’s office doesn’t care unless someone’s bleeding or dead. But yeah, I reported it, and all the other stuff, but nothing ever came of it barring a visit from one of your friends.
Tex nodded. “JD.”
“Yeah, well, he turned up and asked me a bunch of questions. He said he was bringing in an old friend to figure out what was going down. And now I guess, here you are—his old friend.” I rolled my eyes at him.
“Yeah, here I am,” he said quietly.
I looked away, toward the mountains rising in the distance, their peaks dusted with snow. The land had always been my anchor. My inheritance. And now my responsibility.
“Why would someone do this to me?” I said, and I hated how defeated I sounded. I wasn’t a weak woman. My parents had raised me to be strong and independent. Though right now I felt anything but. Instead, I felt tired and worried.
Tex stepped closer. Close enough that I felt the weight of him beside me, his strength pouring into me.
“I don’t know, but I’ll find out,” he said. “You’re not alone in this now. We’ll fix the fence. Then I want to check the north line. JD said that’s where the last break was.”
“We?” I raised a brow. “You planning on staying all day, Cowboy?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Cowboy?”
“Figured you didn’t much like being called darlin’ either.” I was angry and sad, and worried, and yet it took everything in me not to smile at the way his features softened for just a moment. I had caught him by surprise.
He cocked his head to one side, assessing me. “I guess I could live with cowboy.”
“Well, if you’re staying to help then you follow my lead out here. This is my land and I don’t need you throwing your weight around like you own the place.”
Tex’s mouth twitched. It was almost a smile, but not quite. “Yes, ma’am, I hear you. Do as I’m told—gotcha’.”
I let out a heavy breath and shook my head.
Annoyed that every time he spoke it made something in my stomach flutter, though with what I wasn’t sure.
He wasn’t my type in the slightest, though there was no denying he was handsome with his dark hair and light eyes.
His skin was tanned from years of being on the road and his jaw sported a tidy beard.
He clearly looked after himself too. But from the way he held himself, he knew he could have any woman he wanted, and I had no desire to be another notch on his bedpost.
We walked toward the barn to grab some tools, the silence stretching between us. It wasn’t awkward or hostile, just charged. Like the air before a storm.