“Hey Caulfield, this is Braddock—need you to get on the phone with the police department down in San Antonio to see if they can send some SWAT to assist with an arrest tonight…we’re gonna need to head over to the Daley property this evening and place four men under arrest.”
A voice came back—maybe a dispatcher back at the office. “About time.”
“Yep.” He shook his head, eyes darting to me like he was ashamed. “Yep, about damn time. Let me know what they say.”
He put his radio back and looked at me.
“Miss—” he started, then stopped—because even I hadn’t known what to call me.
“Just Willa is fine,” I said softly.
“Willa,” he said. “You were very brave to do what you did. We’re gonna handle it, but we’ll make sure to keep some folks in the area just in case.”
I swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“Can’t make any promises, but this’ll be sorted out.”
Braddock shook hands with Stetson, then with Gage, and let himself out. The deputy's car started up in the drive and then it was quiet.
Nobody moved for a moment.
Then Haven went to the stove to put on a kettle…voices came from outside—Gage talking to Millie, I think, who hadn’t been home for the whole thing. Wyatt was talking to Forrest, while I just sat there…shellshocked, unsure of what to do next.
Stetson was standing close to the table, still as stone.
“Stetson,” I said.
He looked up.
“Thank you,” I said. “I don’t even know how to—I can’t even?—”
“Don’t,” he said quietly.
“I want to.”
“I know.” He took off his hat and turned it in his hands, frowning down at it. “But I watched that fence line for two years and I didn’t do anything sooner. Those women in ‘17 and ‘19…they came to my mother and I told myself I needed more before I went to Braddock. Kept telling myself that.” His jaw tightened. “You had to run away and sleep in a hunting blind because I hadn’t been ready. You don’t owe me anything.”
I sighed. “You were ready when it mattered.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But don’t thank me. Just—be okay. Be happy. That’s enough for me.”
I nodded.
He put his hat back on and went out the back door, and through the window I watched him cross the yard towardthe fence line—probably so he could keep watching the Daley property, like he’d been doing for years without anyone knowing.
Then I felt Forrest’s hand on my shoulder…looked up into his warm brown eyes, winced at the cut on his cheek, the eye that was already getting bruised.
“Let me take you home,” he murmured.
“Please,” I breathed. “Please.”
EIGHTEEN
Forrest
Wyatt had promised me my injuries were minor, but I truly felt like I’d been put through a meatgrinder.
Willa kept her arm around me as we walked through the door…the two of us a little worse for wear. Nickel raced for the door the minute we walked in, wagging her tail like mad, whining when she realized we were hurt.
