The sound of hammering rises from the distance. I lean back, letting the scenery wrap around me, the scent of cedar and sawdust in the air.
“You need anything, just ask,” Luna says with a warm smile before heading back inside.
Angus watches her go, leaning back in his chair and stretching his legs in front of him. “She wanted to meet the man who saved my life.”
I huff out a quiet breath, my gaze still on the door she disappeared through. “Didn’t feel like saving anyone at the time. It felt like surviving.”
Angus doesn’t answer. We both know what it cost to get out of that hell alive.
I scrub a hand over my jaw. “She’s got guts, your wife. The fire didn’t get her, and neither will the bastard who lit the match.”
Angus nods, slow and steady. “No. Not while I’m drawing breath.”
I look out over the fields, watching the cattle roam in the distance. “So, what's the plan for today? Fence mending? Hay baling?”
“About that. We had another incident yesterday.”
I straighten, instantly alert. “What happened?”
Angus’s expression darkens. “Someone cut the fence line on the north pasture. Again. Livestock got out. It took hours to round 'em up.”
He pulls a folded paper from his shirt pocket and slides it across the table. “These are the incident reports. Too many 'accidents' that aren't accidents, the barn fire being the worst. My security cameras keep getting disabled.”
I lean across to get a better look. “You think it’s connected to the phone calls pressuring you to sell?”
"Has to be. And ours isn't the only ranch being affected."
I set my mug down, my mind already mapping out surveillance points. “I'll start my sweep today. Set up some cameras and see what I can find.”
“Good.” Angus nods, taking another sip of his coffee. “But before that, I've got another task for you. Our tractor's acting up again, and I need you to look at it.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Thought you had a mechanic for that sort of thing.”
“We do. George is an independent operator. Does work for most of the ranches in the area. Brilliant with engines but can't be everywhere at once,” Angus explains, leaning back in his chair.
“So you want me to play handyman?” I ask, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice.
Angus grins. “Consider it part of your cover. You'll need to borrow tools from George's workshop, though. I'll introduce you two once we finish our coffee.”
A soft “baa” sounds from behind us. A goat, barely knee-high, with oversized floppy ears and large brown eyes, has its gaze fixed on Angus’s hat, perched innocently on the railing.
“Cheese Puff,” Angus warns.
I snort. “Cheese Puff?”
Angus pinches the bridge of his nose. “She's a menace.”
The goat darts forward, snatching Angus’s prized Stetson.
“Son of a—” Angus pushes to his feet. “Cheese Puff! Drop it!”
Cheese Puff, unimpressed by Angus’s command, prances in place, the stolen hat dangling from her mouth, the hard-won trophy already sporting a healthy number of teeth marks.
I bite back a smile. “Tactical disadvantage. The enemy knows your weakness.”
“The enemy is a goat.”
“Never underestimate your opponent.”
