Page 143 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

“I should’ve protected her better.”

Willy lets out a quiet breath. “Tell me how.”

I look over at him.

“How were you supposed to stop it?” he asks. “You couldn’t have known that they’d get so close.”

I don’t answer.

“That kid would’ve ignored you anyway.”

A tired smile slips onto my face. “Probably.”

“No probably about it.” He nudges my shoulder. “You’ve met your daughter.”

I laugh under my breath, but it disappears almost as quickly as it came. “She still talks like she’s leaving.”

Willy nods. “I know.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I keep picturing her loading that beat-up truck, waving at everybody, then driving away like she was only ever passing through.”

I swallow. “I hate that picture.”

“So do I.”

But what can we do about it?

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Arizona

I carry my coffee onto the porch and stop at the railing as I look across Dusty Spur. The ranch is awake, but it doesn’t feel the way it did a week ago.

Red works his way down the fence line replacing warped boards, lifting his head every few nails to scan the property before going back to the hammer.

Emmett finishes tightening a cinch beside the corral, gives the gate latch an extra tug, then moves on while Sadie follows with a grooming brush tucked against her chest. She’s completely unaware that everyone around her has started checking locks and fences twice.

Across the yard, Willy shoves a wheelbarrow toward the barn until the front wheel catches another rut and veers sideways.

“I swear you’re doing this on purpose,” he grumbles, dragging it back into line.

A laugh slips out before I can stop it. “You’re losing an argument with a wheelbarrow.”

Willy looks over his shoulder without slowing. “I’m losing because it fights dirty.” He muscles it the rest of the way across the yard before abandoning it beside the barn and brushing his hands together. “Don’t trust it if it starts acting friendly.”

He shoves it toward the barn before it can embarrass him again, and I take a drink while I look across Dusty Spur.

Emmett tightens a cinch beside the nearest corral while Sadie follows him with a grooming brush tucked against her chest. Red replaces a warped fence board farther down the line, pausing when Sadie wanders toward the gate until Emmett guides her back with a hand on her shoulder.

Red returns to the fence once she’s clear, and the familiarity of the scene catches beneath my ribs. I know how each of them takes care of the people around them now.

Emmett checks what everyone needs before they ask, Red watches for trouble before it reaches the yard, and Willy keeps people laughing whenever the strain starts showing.

I came here expecting a few songs, a temporary room, and another road waiting when I got bored. Instead, I can read these men from across the ranch, and the house behind me has stopped feeling like a place I’m visiting.

Willy abandons the wheelbarrow beside the barn and heads toward me with an apple in one hand. “Are you planning to drink that coffee, or are you waiting for the ranch to inspire another song?”

“I need caffeine before inspiration.”

He takes a bite and braces one shoulder against the porch post. “I assumed talent did most of the work.”