Chapter 41
cade
The news cycle is still in love with the scandal involving Congressman Mercer; meanwhile, we’ve all gone back to our regular lives, the best we can.
Cattle and horses don’t give a damn that reporters want to speak with me—they fall sick, get cut on barbed wire, or get colic just like they always did.
So, Sarah’s working. I’m working. Evie’s back in kindergarten.
It helps that the people of Wildflower Canyon have come together as a community to protect us, which comes as a shock to Sarah but not to me. I know my town.
A couple of reporters tried camping outside Wild Coffee last week, ambushing customers as they came and went.
They didn’t last long—Gina, the owner, called the sheriff, and half the morning coffee crowd planted themselves in front of the door, arms crossed, until the reporters had no choice but to pack up and leave.
The same thing happened down at Parish Feed. When a journalist started asking questions about Sarah, Ollie Parish himself told them to get the hell off his property with a sawed-off shotgun in hand.
Out at kindergarten, Tillie said parents have been showing up early and lingering late, making sure no reporters get near Evie. One woman with a press badge tried to snap pictures at recess, but she didn’t get far—two moms boxed her in with their trucks until Hugh showed up to haul her off.
And last night at Blackwood Prime, one fool of a cameraman followed Joy and Elena into the parking lot, asking about Sarah. Elena snatched the guy’s press pass and told him that if he showed his face again, he’d be leaving town with fewer teeth.
Nobody’s telling stories. Not the good, not the bad. Nothing.
Folks just say, “Mind your own business,” and keep walking.
Wildflower Canyon might love its gossip, but it protects its own when the wolves start circling, especially now when they know the truth, know how they failed Sarah.
Even when Noelle tried to pipe up at the Horseshoe, loud enough for a couple of reporters to hear, Eunice—queen of the place and not someone you argue with—stepped right into it.
Near about physically shoved Noelle back down into her booth and told her to “Shut it before she embarrassed herself further.”
Sarah doesn’t quite believe it yet—she still braces for the town to turn on her like it did once before.
But I can see her easing, little by little.
Every door held open, every smile at the diner, every person who won’t answer a reporter’s question—that’s Wildflower Canyon’s way of saying they’re sorry, and that she belongs here.
When Hugh summons us, she’s more than nervous. She’s downright anxious.
Sarah sits stiff-backed in one of the hard chairs in Hugh’s office, her hands clasped tight in her lap, her knee bouncing like she’s got ants under her skin.
Hugh’s there, which makes sense. But Kaz Chase? That one throws me. He’s propped against the wall, at ease in a way that feels intentional, like he’s meant to be here.
And that’s what gets me—I can’t read him. He’s not loud or showy like the other rich tech bros who roll through Wildflower Canyon in shiny cars. He moves differently. He’s measured. Always watching.
And Hugh…hell, Hugh treats him like he’s part of the team. Says it’s ‘cause Kaz has contacts.
“I wanted to talk to you before the whole freakin’ town does,” Hugh says flatly. There’s a vein throbbing in his temple. “We got Gilbert. Kaz spotted him over at Black Canyon, gave us the heads-up. Brought him in this morning.”
And what the fuck was Kaz Chase doin’ all the way in Gunnison National Park?
Sarah’s eyes widen. “You caught him?”
“The Feds have him. He moved county lines and state lines and what have you, so he’s theirs.” Hugh shifts, and his chair groans under his bulk. “The story he’s spinnin’….” He shakes his head as if he’s tired and pissed all at once. “Says he was takin’ orders from Violet Mercer.”
Sarah grips my hand tightly and places it on her knee to stop it from bouncing off her chair.
“He admitted to tampering with the feed,” Hugh goes on. “To the fire. To the dead dog…and yes, it was roadkill, and writing the note.” He looks squarely at Sarah. “He says Violet paid him to do it.”
Sarah whispers, “I understand going after me, but…why Blue Rock?”
“‘Cause she wanted me to sell,” I reply dryly.
“But it’s all so…brutal,” Sarah remarks sadly.
She’s right. Paying off girls accusing her husband of rape is one thing; trying to murder someone by setting their house on fire is another, an escalation.
The woman’s lost her fuckin’ mind.
“Violet is colder than a snake in the snow,” I snap.
Hugh points a forefinger at me. “What he said. I’ll tell you straight—I don’t think Gilbert was the mastermind.
Just muscle. Someone to get his hands dirty while she stayed pretty and polished.
” He shrugs, worry etched on his face. “But we don’t know for sure ‘cause Violet Mercer has lawyered up.” He rubs his face.
I turn to Kaz. “And what’s your role here…besides tellin’ Hugh where to find Gilbert?”
Kaz looks amused. “I just help out where I can. Have a lot of contacts, you know.”
I don’t know, I want to say, but he did find Gilbert, so….
“You guys keep your guns close and each other closer, alright?” Hugh instructs.
“And between Mav and me, we’ll make sure that someone’s watchin’ your backs.” His gaze flicks to Sarah, then to me, and something about the way he says it makes the hair rise on the back of my neck.
Sarah arches an eyebrow. “Between you and Mav?”
“Yeah. We talked about it. Cade’s got a ranch to run, you have your business, and Mav’s got way too much money.” Kaz straightens. “Sheriff, I gotta go, have a meeting with the governor in an hour.”
I roll my eyes. He’s such a name dropper. I mean, he probably is meeting with the governor, but to announce it to the world is just…uncouth.
Kaz notices my disgust and grins wide. “That’s how I have the contacts, dude.”
By the time we get back to Blue Rock, we’re emotionally exhausted. Sarah breathes deep like she’s been underwater.
Her hand brushes mine. “This is all a bit too much. Do you think we’ll ever have normal, boring lives?”
I lace my fingers through hers. “I fuckin’ hope so, Dove.”
The house is quiet. Tillie’s taken Evie and Bandit to a fair.
“Well,” she murmurs mischievously, “looks like we’ve got the place to ourselves.”
My mouth quirks. “Dangerous thing to say, Dove.”
“Dangerous how?” she teases, as I stride toward her.
The kiss starts softly but turns hungry quick enough, as all the tension and fear of the past week spill out in heat.
I pull her flush against me, and she lets out a small laugh that bubbles out when her back bumps the kitchen counter. I set her on it and step in between her thighs, grip her hair so I can wreck her mouth.
“I missed this.”
Her fingers curl into my hair. “Me, too.”
We’re so wrapped up in each other that neither of us hears the front door open.
“Ahem.”
We spring apart like guilty teenagers, as Dodge leans on the doorway, arms folded, toothpick lodged in his mouth, grinning like the devil himself.
Fuckin’ cockblocker!
“Well, well. Looks like Doc Kirk’s makin’ house calls again,” he drawls.
Sarah’s cheeks flame. I run my hand down my face. “Jesus, Dodge. Knock, would ya?”
“The door was open, boss.” Dodge saunters toward the fridge. “And don’t worry, I’ve seen worse. At least you had your clothes on....”
“Get out,” I growl, half laughing.
“Fine, fine.” Dodge raises both hands, palms out. “Just don’t fog up the windows while I’m feedin’ the horses, alright?”
He disappears out the back door, whistling.
Sarah buries her face against me, laughing hard. “We’re cursed,” she manages to choke out between giggles.
“Next time, I’m lockin’ every damn door.”
I kiss her hair, feeling the joy of being a normal couple—one who has to sneak time in to make love because we have a ranch, a kid, and a dog.