Page 8 of Ironwood Ranch Cowboys

“By who?”

There’s a pause this time. “Me.”

I lift my gaze and meet his, holding it.

Jake doesn’t look away. Doesn’t shift. He stands there as he always does. Certain, controlled, unbothered. But my gut tightens anyway.

I hand the tablet back to him. “Next time, I want documentation attached. Not just corrections.”

His mouth tightens just slightly. “Didn’t realize that was necessary.”

“It is now.”

Silence stretches, then he nods. “Understood.”

“Make it standard.”

“Anything else?” he asks over his shoulder.

“Yeah.” He stops. “Nothing gets resolved without me knowing first.”

He walks off, posture easy, unbothered, boots stomping against the gravel. To him, nothing about that exchange mattered.

I watch him go.

Beside me, Benji lets out a low breath. “Man doesn’t like being questioned.”

“He doesn’t have to like it,” I say evenly. “He just has to do it.”

Benji nods and moves off, already heading toward the north barn.

My attention shifts back to the ranch, to the trucks, the crew, the rhythm settling back into place because ultimately nothing’s changed.

Everything looks right.

Runs right.

But underneath, it isn’t.

I can feel it, the same way you feel a storm before it breaks. “Double check the north barn deliveries,” I call after Benji. “I want counts verified twice.”

“On it!”

I stay where I am a moment longer, scanning the movement, the patterns, the details most people overlook.

Ironwood doesn’t make mistakes.

Which means if something’s off…

It’s not an accident.

By the time the sun dips behind the tree line, Ironwood settles, the noise fading first, then the movement, until what’s left is the stillness I trust more than anything else on this ranch.

I start my usual walk along the property lines, rolling my shoulders once as I go. My father’s old worn leather glove rests in my hand, familiar in a way nothing else is.

The creases and softened edges are a reminder of everything this place was built on and everything it could still lose if I let something slip.

I don’t wear it. I never have.