Page 175 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

Sadie giggles.

The sound breaks through the heaviness hanging over all of us, and I catch Willy watching her from the corner of his eye before he looks away again.

That’s what he does. He finds the crack before anybody else notices it and wedges a joke inside, giving everyone enough room to breathe without pretending nothing happened.

Sheriff Hank returns with another deputy carrying a folder thick enough to make me wonder how paperwork multiplies so fast.

“The structural crew finished another inspection,” the deputy says. “Damage is limited to that section. The rest of the arena’s solid.”

Hank nods once before looking at Red. “We’ve got photographs, tools, Beau’s statement, and enough messages between him and Travis to keep both of them busy for a long time.”

The patrol cars pull through the rodeo gates, their flashing lights fading down the highway, and the grounds fall into an uneasy silence until Sammy Brooks climbs onto the announcer’s stand and reaches for the microphone.

“Tonight could’ve ended very differently,” he says. “It didn’t because a whole lot of people refused to let it.” He gestures toward the volunteers rebuilding the fence. “Let’s finish this rodeo the way Colter Creek always does.”

Applause rolls across the grandstands, growing louder as more people join in. Deputies tip their hats. The paramedics exchange tired smiles. Ranch hands carrying broken rails pause long enough to acknowledge the crowd before getting back to work.

Beside me, Red looks ready to climb onto another bronc if it means escaping the attention. Emmett rubs the back of his neck, looking equally uncomfortable, while Willy gives the grandstands an elaborate bow.

“I’d like everybody to remember I also saved a perfectly innocent casserole,” he says. “Recognition comes in the form of pie.”

Red huffs a laugh. “There’s the Kane we know.”

“I was afraid responsibility had ruined my reputation.”

Even Emmett smiles.

Within the hour, crews rope off the damaged section of arena, vendors reopen their stands, and families drift back toward the seats.

Word spreads across Colter Creek faster than any advertisement could ever accomplish. Instead of staying home, people from neighboring towns keep arriving, determined not to let Travis Mercer become the story anyone remembers about this championship weekend.

Pickups continue rolling through the entrance, and by the time the next event starts, the grandstands are fuller than they were before everything happened.

Colter Creek refuses to let fear steal its rodeo.

I step away from the arena while the next riders get ready, weaving through the food stalls until Annie catches up carrying two lemonades, with Dakota and Abilene close behind.

“We figured you’d wander off,” Annie says, handing me a cup.

Dakota balances Olivia against her hip while Charlie races around Clint’s legs nearby, still buzzing with enough energy to power the whole town.

“You scared us,” Abilene says, resting a hand across her stomach.

“I scared myself.”

Annie studies the scrape on my temple before shaking her head. “You also scared three cowboys into shaving years off their lives.”

“They’ll survive.”

“I wouldn’t bet on it.”

Dakota smiles as she glances toward the arena. “They’ve spent weeks trying to convince themselves they weren’t falling for you. Today made that argument impossible.”

Heat creeps into my cheeks. “I still don’t know what we’re doing.”

Abilene follows my gaze toward Marshall, Wyatt, Jesse, and the others gathered near the chutes. “Neither did we. You don’t figure this kind of life out before you live it.”

“I’ve never stayed anywhere long enough to try.”