"Good day," I agree.
He reaches over without looking at me and takes my free hand.
Then he holds it in the easy, unhurried way he has, like it's something we've been doing for years rather than weeks. I let him. More than let him. I turn my hand over and lace my fingersthrough his and feel him register that with a slight shift in his posture. A settling.
Like something clicking into place.
I look at the ranch in the evening light.
Twelve hundred acres of Texas that I know better than anywhere I've ever been. The crew I'd fight for. The horses I've raised. The community that has held me through every hard season.
And beside me, holding my hand on his porch in the fading light, a man who stood next to me today. Who trusted me completely before I finished earning it. Who is writing home questions in a notebook full of five-year plans?
I open my mouth.
I'm going to say something real. Something that doesn't hide behind practicality or professionalism or the careful management of my own heart that I've been practicing for thirty three years.
Something true.
Something honest.
Beckett turns to look at me and his expression is open, warm, completely present, and I take a breath and—
Remy's voice explodes across the yard.
"LANEY. BECKETT. WE GOT A PROBLEM."
We're both on our feet before the echo fades.
Remy is running from the direction of the south pasture, which Remy does not do for small things.
His hat is gone, his expression has lost every trace of its usual humor, and he's pointing behind him at something neither of us can see yet.
"Fence is down on the south boundary," he says, breathing hard. "Cattle are out. Forty head minimum. Already moving toward the county road."
Beckett looks at me.
I look at him.
The almost moment evaporates completely.
Just like that.
"Trucks," I say.
"Already moving," he says.
We go.
Chapter thirteen
South Boundary
Beckett
Silver Ridge takes its charity rodeo seriously.
I know this because Jolene mentioned it seventeen days ago at the diner with the almost reverent tone she reserves for things that matter. I know that because Harvey Miller at Copper Ridge Hardware has been selling rodeo-branded merchandise from a display by the front door for two weeks.
