6. Beast
BEAST
Something was wrong.
I knew it.
The second Sadie looked away.
The second she refused to answer.
The second I saw that gun.
Three years.
Three damn years.
And somehow I hadn't known.
I watched her trailer disappear down the ranch road.
Then I stood there another minute.
Thinking.
Trying not to think.
Failing.
The screen door of the ranch house slammed.
I turned.
Hank Walker stepped onto the porch.
Coffee mug in hand.
Gray hair.
Broad shoulders.
Weathered face.
Rancher through and through.
Sadie's father.
He spotted me instantly.
His gaze moved from me to the disappearing trailer.
Then back again.
A slow smile appeared.
I immediately didn't trust it.
"Morning, Beast."
"Morning."
"You standing out here waiting for my daughter again?"
I sighed.
"No."
"Uh huh."
The old man took a sip of coffee.
"I remember when you were better at lying."
I folded my arms.
He laughed.
Unfortunately.
I liked Hank.
Always had.
Made arguing difficult.
"Need something?" he asked.
"Just one question."
His smile faded slightly.
That got my attention.
"What kind of question?"
"Gerald."
The reaction was instant.
Gone was the amused rancher.
Gone was the teasing.
The old man's eyes hardened.
Just for a second.
Then the expression vanished.
Too late.
I saw it.
"You know him."
"Yeah."
The answer was short.
Flat.
Controlled.
I didn't like that either.
"What happened?"
Hank looked toward the pasture.
Toward the road.
Toward anywhere except me.
Which was answer enough.
A knot formed in my stomach.
"How bad?"
The old rancher stayed silent.
A long moment passed.
Wind rustled the trees.
Cattle lowed somewhere in the distance.
Finally, Hank sighed.
The sound carried years of regret.
"Bad enough."
Something cold settled in my chest.
"What does that mean?"
"It means my daughter stopped smiling for almost a year."
That hit harder than I expected.
Because Sadie smiled all the time.
At everybody.
About everything.
It was one of the things that made her...
Dangerous.
Seeing her without that smile?
I couldn't picture it.
Apparently, Hank could.
Because pain flashed across his face.
Real pain.
The kind fathers carried.
"Did he hurt her."
It wasn't a question.
Hank looked at me.
For the first time.
Directly.
"Yeah."
The single word landed like a punch.
My jaw tightened.
Hard.
"Did he put his hands on her?"
The silence answered before he did.
My vision narrowed.
Just slightly.
Enough.
Enough to know.
Enough to understand.
Enough to feel something ugly waking up inside me.
The old Ranger.
The soldier.
The man I'd spent years keeping under control.
Hank saw it happen.
I knew because he immediately pointed a finger at me.
"No."
I blinked.
"What?"
"No."
The old rancher stepped off the porch.
Coffee forgotten.
Expression hard.
"I know that look."
I didn't say anything.
"You're not killing him."
I still didn't say anything.
Hank sighed.
"That's exactly what worries me."
I looked toward the road.
Toward town.
Toward wherever Gerald had gone.
A strange calm settled over me.
The kind that came before trouble.
Big trouble.
Because one thought kept repeating itself.
Over and over.
Three years.
For three years, Sadie had carried a gun.
For three years, she'd looked over her shoulder.
For three years, she'd dealt with this alone.
And I'd never known.
I saw her around town, and I never knew.
The guilt hit harder than the anger.
Because I'd stayed away from her.
I'd kept my promise.
I'd done exactly what her father asked.
And while I was honoring that promise...
Sadie had needed protecting.
Hank studied me quietly.
Then his expression softened.
Just a little.
"Beast."
I looked at him.
The old rancher nodded once.
Slow.
Meaningful.
Like he was making a decision.
Then he said the last thing I expected.
"Maybe I was wrong."
"What?"
"About you staying away from her."
The words hung between us.
Heavy.
Important.
And before I could respond, Hank looked toward the road where Sadie had disappeared.
Then back at me.
"If Gerald's back..."
His jaw tightened.
"...my daughter shouldn't have to face him alone."