I glance up, scanning the open stretch of Miller land around me. The quiet suddenly feeling different, heavier, like I’m not as alone out here as I thought I was when I first rode up.
The wind moves through the grass, steady and normal, but it doesn’t settle anything in me.
If anything, it makes the silence sharper.
Now I know this didn’t just happen.
This was planned.
And whatever it’s tied to…
It’s not finished.
I fold the paper back up slower than I need to, my mind already moving ahead of me. Connecting pieces that don’t quite fit yet, but are close enough to keep me from ignoring them. I shove everything back into the box with more care than I expected, like it matters how I handle it even if I don’t fully understand why.
Colt being tied to this isn’t something I can brush off. Not with the way he moves through things. Not with the way he’s always been one step ahead when it comes to anything that smells like trouble. Not with the fact that this is sitting out here on our land, that makes it personal whether I want it to be or not.
Which means one thing.
I’m not waiting around anymore.
The thought settles in clean and solid, cutting through the rest of it. Whatever this is, whatever he’s got going on, I’m not leaving this land sitting open and empty like an invitation, and I’m sure as hell not letting something like this sit under the surface while I pretend it’s nothing.
I push to my feet and brush the dirt from my hands, my gaze sweeping the stretch of land again. This time it’s different, not just open space or possibility, but something I need to lock down before it turns into a problem I can’t control.
Building out here isn’t just an idea anymore.
It’s necessary.
By the time I swing back into the saddle, I’ve already decided how this is going to go. It doesn’t leave a lot of room for debate, not even from my brothers. For once this isn’t just about expansion or timing or whether it makes sense on paper.
This is about putting something in place that says this land is ours, watched, lived on, protected.
And I’m not asking for permission the way I might have before.
I’m telling them it’s happening.
The ride back feels shorter, the weight of what I found riding with me the whole way, pressing in just enough to keep my thoughts sharp. By the time I reach the yard, I can already see them spread out where I left them, like nothing changed even though everything just did.
Wade is the first to look up, his expression shifting the second he sees my face. “That was quick,” he says, straightening slightly. “Fence still standing?”
“Yeah,” I answer, sliding down from the saddle, my boots hitting the dirt with more purpose than before. “Fence is fine.”
Brooks watches me a second longer, reading more than what I said out loud. “Something else isn’t,” he guesses.
I don’t answer right away, just grab the box and set it down on the nearest flat surface, flipping it open so they can see for themselves instead of trying to explain it piece by piece.
That gets their attention.
Wade steps in first, his brow pulling tight as he looks over the contents. “What the hell is this?”
“Found it out on Miller,” I say, keeping my tone even, even though there’s nothing even about what this means. “Buried just off the fence line.”
Luke moves closer, his focus narrowing in the same way mine did earlier, taking it all in without rushing to speak, while Brooks stays quiet, his expression shifting into something more serious than anything we were dealing with ten minutes ago.
“Rodeo gear,” Wade mutters, picking up one of the tags. “You recognize it?”
“Yeah,” I say, and that’s enough for all of them to understand that this isn’t random.
