Chapter 15
Fifteen
Wyatt
The barn door closed behind me with a soft thud that sounded too final.
The sky outside dropped into that deep blue that comes right before full dark, and the first faint bit of night chill.
I brushed the sweat off the back of my neck.
I walked away from the barn slowly, giving her space even though every instinct I had told me not to leave her alone in that state.
The yard was quiet except for the low hum of insects rising out of the grass. The porch light blinked on as I passed. I didn’t look back. If I did, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to keep going.
I got in my truck and shut the door; my hands tightened on the steering wheel. I didn’t start the engine right away. I just sat there, staring out at the darkening fields, feeling like someone hollowed out my chest with a rusted shovel.
I shouldn’t have told her about the promise.
Not then.
Not like that.
But it had been the only truth I had left to give her, and she’d thrown it back like it burned her. .
“Tessa,” I murmured to the empty cab, shaking my head. “You’re gonna break yourself before you let anyone help.”
The grief in her eyes had been deeper than anything she said. It lived under her words, tight and trembling, and it took everything in me not to reach out and steady her. She didn’t want that from me. She didn’t want anything from me. And that part hurt more than it should have.
I turned the key and let the engine rumble to life. The headlights swept across the yard, catching dust that drifted like tired ghosts in the air. I backed out slowly, gravel crunching under my tires, and made my way down the long drive that curved toward the main road.
Halfway down, movement caught my eye.
A flash of white in the field to my right. Not a deer. Not cattle. Something too still, too deliberate.
I slowed the truck, frowning, and grabbed my binoculars. There, parked at a crooked angle near the fence line, was a dark SUV. Blacked-out windows. Clean. No mud on the tires despite being halfway into a pasture. The kind of vehicle that didn’t belong on gravel, let alone in a pasture.
My gut tightened; it wasn’t there when I got to Tessa’s.
I pulled to the side of the road, cut the engine, and stepped out. The wind picked up just enough to carry the dry smell of dust and sage. I could see a figure near the fence, crouched low with something in his hands.
A camera.
My jaw clenched.
I walked across the ditch, boots sinking into the soft dirt. When I was close enough, I spoke, my voice carrying low but steady.
“You’re trespassing,” I stated loudly, and calmly enough that he’d hear.
The man jerked upright, the camera swinging from a strap around his neck. He looked mid-forties, clean, with a pressed shirt and hair too perfect to survive ranch wind. His shoes were another giveaway. Polished leather loafers, already caked with dirt, he clearly hadn’t expected.
He blinked at me. “Oh. Evening.”
“Are you lost?”
He forced a smile that didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. “Just taking some photos. Beautiful landscape. Didn’t think it’d be a problem.”
“It is when it’s private property.”
“Oh, this is the Callahan Ranch, right?”
I stepped closer. He shifted back.
“You got business here?” I asked without confirming.
“No. Just scenery.” He lifted his camera, but that proved nothing. “I’m from Calgary. I freelance for outdoor magazines sometimes.”
“Do you usually trespass onto private ranch land for that?”
He swallowed. “I didn’t see a sign.”
“There doesn’t need to be a sign, and there’s a gate at the road you had to drive around.”
His gaze flickered toward his SUV, then back at me. He was calculating. Not apologetic. Not confused. Calculating.
“Look,” he said with a shaky laugh, “I’m not hurting anything. Just got turned around.”
“So, which is it, you’re taking landscapes, or you got turned around?” The man’s story wasn’t adding up.
He hesitated, like he wanted to argue, then must’ve thought better of it. He nodded quickly, clutching his camera, and hurried toward the SUV.
I watched him climb in. The vehicle started with a smooth purr that told me it was new. Expensive. The kind of car belonging to someone who didn’t come out here unless there was money involved. He drove off without another word, tires spinning a little too fast as if he expected me to follow.
I stood there long after the taillights disappeared, staring at the empty stretch of dirt he’d left behind.
I looked around, and the grass was flattened in a circle from where he’d been standing.
Moving over to it. I stood in the center and looked straight ahead of me.
It was a direct view of Tessa’s front door.
My gut churned, cold and tight.
I walked back to my truck, climbed in, and shut the door harder than I meant to. Anger simmered under my skin.
The road home stretched long and dark ahead of me, but I drove it fast, gravel popping under my tires like sparks. The closer I got to my place, the more that anger sharpened into purpose.
By the time the lights of my ranch appeared over the ridge, I’d already made up my mind.
I pulled up near the barn where Holt and two of the other hired men were gathered around the chute, dealing with porcupine quills in a curious cow’s nose. They looked up as I approached. Holt straightened first, wiping his hands on a rag.
“You’re back late,” he said.
“Someone was out on Callahan land,” I replied. “Trespassing. Taking pictures near the south fence.”
Holt frowned. “Local?”
“No.” The word came out rough. “He bolted when I confronted him.”
“And you think he’ll come back.” The hands exchanged a look. Holt stepped forward. “What do you need?”
“I want more eyes out that way. Day and night. Anyone on that land that doesn’t belong gets reported to me immediately.”
Holt nodded once, firm. “You got it.”
“Keep it quiet,” I added. “I don’t want her knowing.”
Holt studied me for a long moment. “She won’t like that.”
“I know. But she’s dealing with enough.”
He held my gaze another moment, then nodded again. “We’ll keep watch.” The hands dispersed. Holt lingered.
“You planning on telling her what happened tonight?”
“Not until I have to.”
Holt let out a slow breath. “You care about her more than you should.”
I didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The truth was too raw and too close.
He didn’t press. “I’ll put the men on rotation.”
“Good.”
I walked toward the house, the night wind caught the edges of my shirt. Stars spread wide above the valley, clear and cold.