Page 74 of Wilder

Decision made, I made a beeline for the stables, moving on pure impulse. My boots kicked up dust as I picked up my pace, jogging down toward the stables.

“I’ll see you both later!” I called over my shoulder.

Laken’s voice followed after me, dripping with sarcasm. “Sure, we’ll take your bags up to the bunkhouse for you! No problem at all!”

I smirked, not even bothering to turn around. “Thanks!”

Dallas just scoffed, which, knowing him, could’ve meant anything from You’re welcome to Go fuck yourself.

Either way, I took it as a win.

Most of the stalls were empty when I reached the stables. My boots scuffed against the dusty floor as I made my way toward the last set of stalls at the far end, the section where Pelly’s was. As soon as I rounded the corner, I stopped short, spotting the fact her door had been left open and her stall was empty.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair.

She’d probably been turned out to pasture for the day, as she should be, but after nearly a month apart, I was ready to see her.

With it being well past noon, there was a good chance the back paddocks were free. Taking her on a walk up there to run her through some barrel turns would keep me busy until Wilder finally decided to show his face today.

Honestly, a part of me was starting to wonder if he’d done this on purpose—headed off to an auction on the same day he’d promised to talk to me.

Maybe I wasn’t the only nervous one.

Somehow, that thought made me feel a little bit better. If I wasn’t the only one suffering alone, I’d be happy.

Shaking the thought off, I moved back to the tack room, ducking through the doorway and scanning the walls where we kept our harnesses hooked up. I grabbed one and a lead, testing the moleskin on both with a few quick jerks in my hand before slinging the lead over my shoulder.

Stepping back out into the stables, I made my way back to the front of them. As I passed by the alcove where we kept the feed, something caught my eye; a flicker of movement that had me instinctively slowing my steps.

I turned my head just in time to spot Carter bent over one of the barrels, his back half-turned toward me.

My brow lifted.

What the hell was he doing hiding out back here?

It wasn’t unusual to find one of the guys hanging around the feed storage. This part of the stables was away from most of the chaos and provided a nice retreat if you needed a minute to relax. Or stopped to double-check the rations for the day before heading up to the bunkhouse for food.

He always stuck to the front of the ranch where the breeding stock was kept. Handling the studs, overseeing the mares, working on whatever Sully assigned him.

There was no reason for him to be near the feed storage at all.

And yet, the way he leaned over the barrel, his shoulders tense as he moved, scooping up pellets into a metal feed scoop, sent a quiet alarm bell ringing in the back of my mind.

Just as I opened my mouth to greet him, something else caught my eye: a bottle sitting open right next to the barrel. The label was a bright neon green, the bold face words on the front of it unmistakable: Weed killer.

My stomach tightened.

On its own, it wasn’t the most suspicious thing to have lying around. There were plenty of reasons for us to have herbicides and pesticides stored around the ranch. But not here. We never kept any kind of chemicals near the feed.

Not because we were paranoid, but because cross-contamination was too fucking easy to happen. One wrong move, one spill or bad mix-up and an entire batch of feed could get ruined. Or worse, contaminated enough to actually hurt the animals if we didn’t catch it in time.

So what the hell was Carter doing with it out and open, this close to the feed?

My grip on the lead rope tightened.

Something wasn’t right.

“The fuck are you doing?”