Page 122 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

This morning they don’t do a damn thing.

Every creak of timber makes me glance toward the barns. Every shadow between the corrals has me checking twice before I look away. Whoever walked through my ranch last night didn’t come looking for money.

They came prepared.

By the time I finally step inside, I’ve already decided I’m going through every shed, every fence line, and every inch of Dusty Spur until I know exactly what they took.

The smell of coffee, bacon, and pancakes hits me before I reach the kitchen, and every conversation around the table dies the second I walk through the doorway.

Willy studies me over the rim of his coffee before pointing his fork my way. “You look like you’ve spent the night boxing grizzlies.”

“I lost.”

“I can see that.” He tears off another piece of pancake. “A grizzly’s kinder than whatever got hold of you.”

I grunt into my coffee instead of answering.

The joke dies on its own.

Across the table, Emmett looks up from cutting Sadie’s toast into strips. He watches me for a beat before setting the knife down. “What’s happened?”

“I found the equipment shed turned over last night.”

His brow furrows. “What’d they take?”

“I found bolt cutters, three gate chains, baling wire, and a box of heavy-duty fence staples missing. There could be more.”

He pushes his chair back. “I’ll come.”

I shake my head. “Stay with Sadie. I need Beau to go through the inventory with me.”

He looks toward his daughter, who’s busy convincing a strawberry slice to balance on the edge of her toast, then gives a reluctant nod. “Alright.”

I leave the mug beside the sink and head back outside.

The ranch is already moving. Horses crowd the fence waiting for feed while two of the younger hands wrestle hay bales off the trailer.

Beau steps out of the west barn with a saddle over one shoulder, spots me crossing the yard, and changes direction.

“Mornin’, boss.” He gives me one look and snorts. “You sleep in a thorn bush?”

“I’ve had better nights.”

“I wasn’t expecting that answer.”

He shifts the saddle against his shoulder and falls into step beside me. “What’s going on?”

I unlock the equipment shed and pull the door open.

Beau steps inside, his eyes traveling across the shelves before dropping to the tools scattered over the floor. “Well… hell.”

“Found it like this.”

He sets the saddle against the wall and walks deeper into the shed, stopping in front of the hardware shelves. “I was in here yesterday.”

“So was I.”

His hand hovers over the empty hooks. “They’ve taken the bolt cutters.”