Page 148 of Dusty Spur Ranch Cowboys

Beau disappears through the barn doors as I consider what she heard. A supplier dispute would have been easy to explain, yet he cared more about how much Arizona overheard than why he was arguing.

He had told someone that they were taking things too far, the deal had changed, and he had already kept another person away from Dusty Spur twice.

Emmett joins us after steering Sadie toward the chicken coop, where she can stay busy without hearing a conversation she’ll repeat at supper.

“You’re sure those were his words?” he asks.

Arizona nods. “Close enough that I’d testify to them.”

Willy stops beside us with fencing wire braced against his shoulder. “That doesn’t sound like a feed order gone wrong.”

“It doesn’t prove the call involved Travis,” I say.

Willy looks toward the barn. “Are you going to ask Beau?”

Emmett answers before I can. “If he’s involved, a warning gives him time to cover it.”

“That assumes he has anything to cover,” I say, though I no longer trust the defense as much as I want to.

Beau earned my trust the hard way, over years of busted fences, calving season, winter storms, and rodeo weeks where everybody runs on too little sleep and too much coffee. He shows up before sunrise, stays until the work’s done, and never asks for credit because he doesn’t need it.

Men like that don’t usually end up on the wrong side of suspicion, which is exactly why Arizona’s story keeps digging under my skin. I want to believe there’s another explanation, but every accident we’ve dealt with keeps circling back to the same question, and I’m running out of answers.

Arizona folds her arms. “The way he looked at me had nothing to do with an ordinary call.”

I watch Beau emerge from the barn and return to the truck. “Did he use Travis’s name?”

“No.”

“Did he mention the fire or the damaged gates?”

“No, but he sounded afraid of whoever was on the other end.”

Emmett shifts beside me. “Hank confirmed Travis has been seen in neighboring towns, and now Beau’s talking about a deal that went too far.”

“I want them to be unrelated.”

Willy adjusts the wire. “That answer made more sense before everything else started piling up.”

I follow Beau’s progress across the yard while the past few months rearrange themselves in my head. The trailer fire spread faster than anyone expected, chains were cut, gates were damaged, and Arizona chased a trespasser into the trees.

Each incident carried enough uncertainty to keep us from proving intent, but together they look less like bad luck.

Arizona watches me long enough to read exactly where my thoughts have gone. “You’re thinking about the shed.”

“I should’ve checked the inventory months ago.”

Beau fixed a system I’d let fall apart. After that, I stopped looking as closely as I should have.

The shelves stayed labeled, the paperwork remained current, and I stopped questioning a system that appeared to work.

“I’ll check it after everyone leaves,” I say.

“You should involve Hank before you confront Beau.”

“I’m checking records, not confronting anyone.”

Beau finishes unloading the feed and carries the empty pallet toward the equipment shed. He unlocks the side door, steps inside, and remains there while the driver secures the truck.