Page 211 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

The inside man.

“Oh, fuck,” Silas says.

I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound shocked before.

I keep reading.

More emails. More coordination. Property development speculation. Land leverage discussions. References to town council pressure. Even rodeo sponsorship manipulation.

This reaches further than we thought. Way further.

“They’ve been planning this for months,” I say.

“At least.”

My throat feels tight. Because Ironwood isn’t numbers to me. It’s structure, history, home, and somebody turned it into a business strategy.

I open another email chain.

This one includes projected outcomes if operational leadership fractures internally.

One line stands out immediately.

Temporary accounting staff may provide useful scapegoat positioning if exposure occurs.

Beside me, Silas’s expression changes from controlled fury, becoming much worse. Murderous clarity. “They were going to blame Annie.”

I lean back slowly in the chair, adjusting my watch hard enough to nearly snap the strap.

Because suddenly everything aligns. The revoked access, the isolation attempts, the credential manipulation, the timing.

Jake wasn’t protecting himself this morning.

He was positioning Annie directly between the fraud and the fallout.

I close my eyes briefly.

One deep breath.

Organize. Prioritize. Move.

“We need backups of everything immediately,” I say.

Silas is already pulling out his phone. “And Jake?”

I look back toward the screen. Toward the emails. Toward the months of calculated sabotage hidden beneath polished operational reports and fake professionalism.

Then I think about Annie standing in the office clutching hard drives while somebody quietly tried to build a case against her.

“Jake’s not the only one involved,” I say.

Silas looks over.

I point toward the investor correspondence. “People don’t attempt acquisitions like this without legal infrastructure. Financial planning. External coordination.”

“You think there’s more.”

“I know there’s more.”