Page 41 of Wild Sanctuary

“I’ve noticed.” I think of the decaying fences and plywood windows. “What happens to them? The land, I mean.”

“Gets bought up, mostly. Developers, holding companies.” He shakes his head and expels a deep sigh. “Silas Blackwood’s been the loudest buyer in the county. Man’s got deep pockets and not a jot of sentiment. Sees opportunity where the rest of us see tragedy.”

I take a slow sip of my coffee, choosing my next words carefully. “He bought my father’s land.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Marcus’s expression darkens. “That whole situation never sat right with me. It happened so fast after Tom passed—the auction, that lawyer your mother brought in.” He stares into his coffee. “Your dad would’ve hated seeing his land go to a Blackwood.”

“He would have.” My throat tightens, but I push through. “Did he ever say anything to you? About whether something was wrong?”

Marcus is quiet for a moment, running his thumb along the rim of his cup. “Not with Glacier Ridge, no. But toward the end, he got real involved with the Millers’ situation. You remember them? Had the place south of town.”

“I remember.”

“When their ranch went under, Tom couldn’t make sense of it. Good land, no debt to speak of, and suddenly they’re in foreclosure.” Marcus frowns. “He started asking around. Wanted to understand how a family like that just… loses everything overnight. Came to me a couple of times, actually. Wanted to know if I’d heard anything about the sale, who was behind the holding company that bought the land.”

My heart kicks against my ribs, but I keep my face still.

Journalism 101: Don’t spook the source.

“Did you?”

“I told him what I knew, which wasn’t much. These companies—they layer themselves. Shell over shell. Hard to see who’s really pulling the strings.” Marcus sighs. “That was Tom. Always looking out for other people. Once he got a thread between his teeth, he wouldn’t let go. Guess you inherited that from him.”

I file that away—every single word of it—my heart beating a little faster beneath my careful composure. Dad was looking into the foreclosures. He knew something was wrong.

Marcus watches me, his expression warm as his lips lift in a smile.

“Your daddy would’ve loved this. You, coming back here. Telling our stories. He always said you’d find your way home eventually.”

I swallow roughly.

“I wish he was here to see it.”

“Me too, sweetheart.” Marcus reaches across the table and pats my hand, grief softening his eyes. “Me too.”

We talk for another half hour. Marcus shares everything he knows about the ranch’s history, the financial side of running an operation this size, and the challenges facing family ranches in modern Montana. Marcus is thorough, knowledgeable, and utterly generous with his time. By the time we wrap up, my body feels lighter, and I realize this is why I came back.

For the pieces of my father I can still find if I look hard enough.

“Thank you.” And I mean it with everything I have. “This was exactly what I needed.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” We stand and he pulls me into a hug that’s brief, paternal, and smells of coffee. “You need anything while you’re here, you just ask. Tom’s girl is family.”

Tom’s girl.

I hold on to those words as I leave the inn.

The afternoon has softened into gold, and Main Street is quiet between lunch and dinner. Outside the post office, the lilac bushes are heavy in bloom.

I pass the bookshop, noting that Hemingway hasn’t moved an inch, and the coffee shop where those women were gawking at Wyatt earlier. My notebook is heavy with names and dates and threads I’m itching to pull.

When I round the corner, Shelby is stepping back from the driver’s side of Wyatt’s truck, her laugh carrying across the sidewalk. She spots me and waves, easy and friendly, before heading back toward the inn.

I wave back, trying not to notice the way Wyatt’s still watching her go.

June is already in the passenger seat when I get there, shopping bags piled at her feet, chattering before I’ve even closed the door.

“—so old Lou at the feed store stops me to say he heard Maggie wrestled a goat into submission behind the vet clinic last Tuesday, and did she need backup, because his grandson’s been looking for excitement⁠—”