Page 77

Cash went silent.

When he spoke again, the anger had changed direction. "Address."

"No."

"I'm coming."

"The storm hits in hours."

"I know."

"The ranch needs you."

"The ranch has Wyatt."

"Wyatt can't be in the east pastures and the calving barn and the generator shed at once. Boone isn't there. You are the horseman."

"I can be in Bozeman in—"

"No, you can't." My voice stayed low. "Not in this weather. And if you try, Carrow Creek loses you too."

"Josie."

"I'm not asking you to rescue me."

"That isn't—"

"It is. Listen to me." I pressed myself smaller behind the concrete rail as wind moved grit across the landing. "The pairs are in the near fields, but the east fence drifts first. Your shoulder's bad in rain and it'll be worse in snow, so tape it before you saddle. The south shelter needed another half bale. The generator regulator is on the office shelf. And I'm driving back."

"You are not driving ninety miles into that storm alone."

"I know the road."

"You know the road in daylight."

"I know what waits at the other end."

His breath hit the phone. Once. Hard. Then, quieter, "Boo made you promise."

"I know," I said.

"You broke it."

"I know."

"He told you not to go anywhere alone."

"I know, Cash."

The apartment made a sound behind me.

Small.

Mattress springs. A shift of weight.

Every muscle in my body locked.

"I have to go."