Page 8 of His Texas Claim

I held still. It hurt more than expected, but I kept my mouth shut.

A little tear rolled down Bea’s face. “That looks so gross,” she whispered.

“Bea!” Millie said. “You should go find Willa and your cousin⁠—”

“I want to stay with Bryn,” Bea protested, planting herself and making it clear she would not be moved.

“If you don’t watch the stitches, I promise I’ll tell you some more frog facts,” I said. “Would you like some more?”

Bea nodded.

The adults remained distracted.

And I started reciting frog facts, wondering what kind of family drama I’d just stumbled into.

THREE

Stetson

Somehow, we managed to talk Bryn into staying until dinner.

It didn’t take much convincing, I guess. Turned out she loved kids—so she was more than happy to hang out with Bea and Ethan, the only two who could talk, and to stop the other kids from trying to eat her frog. They named the frog Stetson, which was very flattering.

But she needed rest.

And we weren’t sure yet if we were going to need her.

My asshole sperm donor, Arlo Holt, was making another go at our family’s property, this time through the water rights. The creek was named for our family—most of it ran through our land—but upstream, it originated in an aquifer that fed half the country. If Arlo had found a way to peel the water off from the land, he didn’t need to worry about taking our land.

Just had to make it too dry to keep.

Gage showed up an hour after Millie’s call, kicked off his boots by the door, Wyatt right behind him. My Aunt Peg and Uncle Adam came over from town; Forrest joined us too, partially to pick up Willa and Sophie. Once dinner rolled around, we sat around the kitchen table and Bryn helped lay it all out—the filing, the LLC, what it meant…and how she could help. With her frogs.

She was an odd one, that was for sure.

“Explain the frog thing,” Gage said once we’d finished our dinner. “Slow, for those of us who don’t have a PhD.”

Bryn nodded. “Of course—the main thing is that this species doesn’t exist anywhere else. Not officially. Not yet. I need more breeding data to file for recognition: egg counts, call recordings, water temperature logs…you name it.”

“I don’t know how this helps us,” I muttered.

“Well, if I’m able to establish that the Holt Creek Chirping Frog is an endangered species, I can block the water transfer,” she said. “A confirmed new species tied to one specific site gives you leverage.”

“Where I’m lost is on why you care so much about our land,” I said, shaking my head. “Why do you⁠—”

“Oh, I don’t care about your land.”

The whole table went quiet.

“I care about the frogs.”

Adam snorted, shaking his head. “These women you boys bring home…”

“What are you talking about?” Forrest asked quietly, glancing at his wife. “Willa is perfect.”

“It was a compliment.”

“Stop,” I said, raising a hand to quiet them, feeling my cheeks flush. It wasn’t like that. Not at all. “I guess—another question. How did you even find out about this?”