Chapter 52

I’ve never been so relieved when the final day comes, and the cattle count gates appear in front of us. A few people sit at the top of them, their counters in their hands to take note of how many cattle each ranch is bringing in. It’s a long process, one that takes longer than it does to reach the gates. We’re about ten thousand head of cattle strong, and there are only five people taking count. I understand why it takes until the end of the day and a little after dark to complete. I’m honestly surprised it doesn’t take a few days.

“So what now?” I ask, watching as the final group of cattle wait their turn.

“Now, they graze up here for the season,” Wiley answers. “When the wind comes with a chill, they’ll slowly work their way back home.”

“Just like that?” I blink at the sheer number of cattle now in the reserve before us. The government maintains it as a wilderness reserve but it also serves purpose for this as well. It’s protected for many reasons. Wiley had explained how it all worked on the way here. “They just know where to go?”

“Sometimes there’s cattle that go to the wrong ranch,” Levi says with a shrug. “We just keep an eye out and return them to the proper ranch if necessary.”

Around us, the other ranches celebrate as the final few cows head through the gate and the gate keepers shout “Done!” A cheer goes up in the air, from both those of us who traveled the drive as well as those who came to help pack everything up. Naomi claps on the side with the rest of our crew, waiting to load us up and cart us back home.

We did it. We drove ten thousand cattle nearly eighty miles. The sense of celebration is infectious, and I find myself celebrating with the rest of them despite the fear I’ve felt on this trip. It’s a mix of chaos as everyone starts loading up their horses and gear. We wait back, letting everyone else get loaded before we do the same. We’ll celebrate more at the ranch, and we’ll have the next couple of days off to rest, but I can’t help but feel as if things are only getting started. Once we’re loaded and it’s only down to us, Dakota pats Naomi on the shoulder.

“Thanks, Naomi. We couldn’t have done this without you,” he tells her.

“That kind of sounds like a raise,” she teases, clearly joking, but Dakota nods.

“It does,” he answers. “We’ll take care of that in a few days.”

Naomi’s eyes widen. “Oh my gosh. Thank you!” And then remembering that we’ve been on the drive for two weeks, she gestures to his pickup truck. “She’s all ready. Want someone to drive y’all?”

Dakota shakes his head. “No. We’ll follow you home. Y’all go on ahead.”

She nods and takes off, leaving the four of us to climb into Dakota’s truck. As usual, Levi hoists me into the front seat before taking the seat right behind me. Wiley leaps in on the other side and Dakota gets behind the wheel. When we pull away, it feels like leaving behind both a war zone and a vacation. It’s a strange feeling.

“Another great season,” Wiley says as he stretches out his shoulders. “But man, am I glad the next one isn’t for another year.”

Dakota laughs and watches as our convoy takes off. He waits a minute to give them a head start before pulling out on the road. He’s still laughing, all of us gushing about a job well done, cracking jokes, enjoying ourselves even with the exhaustion. We stay that way until we round a turn in the road and find a black car parked across the road in front of us, blocking the way. Dakota slams on his breaks, sending all of us forward in our seatbelts. I shriek in surprise, my hands locking out to brace myself before the seatbelt locks and does it for me. I look up through my hair, my eyes wide.

“Is that what I think it is?” I rasp, staring at the black Suburban.

“There’s a crow on the fender,” Levi answers, and it’s the only answer I need.

“Fuck,” Wiley growls, his hand grabbing my shoulder. “Be prepared to duck down if they start shooting.”

“Shooting?” I squeak. I’ve never been shot at before. I don’t wanna start now.

The Suburban door opens and the same man from before gets out, the messenger.

“Stay here,” Dakota orders as shoves his revolver into his holster and opens his door. He usually takes it out and sets it on the floorboard when he gets into the truck.

“No!” I cry. “Don’t go!”

“I’ll be fine, Kate,” he growls, meeting my eyes. “Do you trust me?”

I hesitate. I shouldn’t, not with the secrets still between us, but I find myself nodding anyway.

“Then know that I’ll be okay. Stay here,” he says, before slamming his door closed and walking in front of the car before us. Levi cracks his window the same as Wiley does, allowing us to hear as Dakota stops in the shine of the headlights and whistles. The messenger smiles, clearly enjoying this more than he should.

“You were warned,” he says. “Now, hand her over.”

Dakota’s answer is one word. He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t even shift his weight. “No,” he says, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“This is no longer a negotiation, and I didn’t come alone,” the messenger says. The car doors open, and six more goons get out. I don’t know how they all even fit inside. “You’re outnumbered.”

“Am I?” Dakota asks, tilting his head. He doesn’t react when the goons spread out around the messenger, their guns in their hands. Dakota doesn’t reach for his, the revolver still firmly holstered at his hip, even if the clip is off.

The messenger scowls. “All this trouble over some two-dollar whore?”

Dakota raises his brow. “Seems a lot of effort on your part for a two-dollar whore, don’t it?” At a lack of response, Dakota straightens. “Now, I suggest you move out the way real quick like, or you won’t be going home to dear old mafia daddy at all.”

I reach up and clasp Wiley’s hand where he still holds my shoulder, clearly prepared to shove me down if they start firing.

“Don’t worry, Katie Cat,” he says. “Dakota is the fastest sharpshooter out here. Won a medal for it and everything.’

I frown, confused. “What does that mean?”

But I’m interrupted by the messenger speaking again.

“We aren’t leaving here without her,” he says.

It’s only then I realize the messenger is unarmed, clearly trusting the six men with their own guns around him. It’s foolish of him to stand in front without a weapon. Has he not realized that things work different out here in the country than they do in the city? There are far more people with guns out here. Even I’ve learned that.

“Last warning,” Dakota says.

Levi pulls out his phone.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Calling the cops,” he replies.

“Is that wise?”

He meets my eyes in the mirror as he presses the phone to his ear. “They’re gonna need a cleanup crew here.”

But before I can ask anymore, someone must pick up on the other line. “Yeah, John? It’s Levi.” A pause. “Yeah, I know. Look, there’s some guys blockading the road and pointing their guns at us down off the highway. They said we ain’t leaving and we’re real tired after the cattle drive.” Another pause. “Oh, no. Dakota is out there talkin’ to ‘em right now. Yep. Yep. Best to send someone out.” He hangs up and tosses his phone on the seat. “He’s alerting the hospital, too.”

“Just because you told them Dakota was out there?” I ask, surprised.

“Everyone knows how well Dakota shoots,” he shrugs. “He made sure he shot better after. . . well, you know.”

I’m reminded of their story, of how Dakota missed Levi’s dad the first time and could have shot Wiley. He must have practiced so much to make sure that never happened again.

The messenger laughs and it draws our attention again. Whatever Dakota said to him must have been funny. “Go to hell, hillbilly. This isn’t a game you can win.”

The Crows lift their guns.

Dakota smiles. “I guess I’ll see you there, asshole.”

One of the Crows fires without warning and I scream. Dakota doesn’t even move, the bullet missing him to instead tink off the front of the cattle guard on his truck.

“Get down!” Wiley growls, shoving me down just as I see Dakota pull his gun.

More gunshots ring out around us, six of them in quick succession. And then there are no sounds at all. My ears are ringing, but I jerk upright.

“Dakota!” I shout, worried, but I realize quickly he’s still standing.

He’s staring down at the messenger where he covers his head and cowers on the ground.

“Send a message to your boss,” he growls at the messenger. “If he wants her, then he can come and take her himself.”

He kicks the messenger back with his boot, sending him sprawling. He’s panicked, and it shows. His eyes flicker over the now six dead men around him as he scrambles away, forgetting for a moment that he has a Suburban and just running off down the road. He never looks back, never remembers, just leaving the car right there where he parked it.

Dakota strolls back to the truck without a care as he holsters his revolver again.

“You didn’t shoot him?” Wiley growls. “He deserved it.”

“Never shoot the messenger when you’ve got a message to send,” Dakota says as he climbs in. “John coming?”

“Yep,” Wiley answers.

He nods. “Then we wait.”

We fall into silence, but my eyes focus on the dead bodies before us. Six of them. And Dakota isn’t fazed. Not one bit. In fact, I swear I see him smile out the corner of my eyes.

What the actual fuck?