Page 33 of September’s Cowboy Travis

“That was convincing.”

I looked back at her. “So what happens now?”

“I still need the 1912 record we found yesterday and a few things related to the Cedar Draw account itself. But the part involving you is basically resolved.”

I scraped the toe of my boot through the dirt. “So you don't need anything else from me?”

“Probably not.” Her mouth curved. “Congratulations. You're officially boring.”

“That might be the worst thing anybody's ever called me.”

“That seems statistically unlikely.”

I smiled because she expected me to.

Kaycee slipped her phone into her pocket and stepped closer. “This is good news. The committee wanted to know whether you were involved, and now they have an answer.”

“I know.”

She watched me for another second then her lips parted like she was going to ask me something. I leaned down and kissed her instead. That was easier than answering questions I didn't have answers for.

Her hand came up against my chest, her fingers catching in the front of my shirt. I kept one hand at her waist and took another kiss because I could.

Somebody inside the rodeo office called her name.

Kaycee sighed against my mouth. “Duty calls.”

“Tell them you're busy.”

“I don't think that's how employment works.”

“Seems like a bad system.”

She smiled and touched my jaw. “I'll find you later.”

I watched her head toward the office. She stopped halfway there when one of the committee members caught her with a question, and she immediately reached for her phone again. A minute later they disappeared inside together.

My second-place check was folded in my back pocket. The five-thousand-dollar deposit wasn't hanging over my head anymore. Kaycee could walk into that office and tell the committee exactly what I'd been saying since the beginning.

I should've gone back to Bandit. Instead, I stood beside the building looking at the door she'd just gone through.

She didn't need another box of records from my ranch. She didn't need me to show her Parcel 17-B or explain anything else about the lease. Once she found that 1912 record and finished whatever was left with Cedar Draw, she'd write her report. Then she'd go back to Bozeman.

I finally pushed away from the wall and headed toward the contestant lot. For the first time all week, the five thousand dollars wasn't the problem I couldn't get out of my head.

CHAPTER 8

KAYCEE

Travis Cole's name no longer belonged in the unresolved section of my report. I had the bank records and the lease history, plus a clean trail showing where the five-thousand-dollar deposit had originated. It hadn't come through Roy Pritchard or any of the questionable supplier accounts that had triggered the wider audit. Travis hadn't requested the payment, authorized it, or known anything about Cedar Draw before the money appeared in his account.

As far as the committee was concerned, I could clear him with confidence.

I should have been thrilled to move his name into the completed column. Instead, I'd spent the last twenty minutes looking for reasons not to.

The only question still open was why Parcel 17-B had survived inside an account no one in Mustang Mountain seemed to know still existed, and Morgan had texted that morning with the first useful lead.

Morgan: Found the 1912 reference. Come by when you can.