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Steer wrestling.

A man rides up beside a running cow, jumps off, grabs it, and slams it to the ground like it weighs nothing.

“There’s no way,” I whisper, even though I’m watching it happen.

Another search.

Tie-down roping.

They release a calf from a gate, and it takes off running. The rider is already moving, horse chasing it hard across the dirt. He swings the rope, throws, and it lands around the calf’s neck. The rope goes tight and the horse stops, the rider is off the saddle in seconds, he runs to the calf, flips it, and ties its legs like he’s done it a thousand times.

I lower my phone slowly, staring at nothing for a second.

They do this.

All three of them.

I push to my feet, suddenly restless, and step back outside. I head back to the house, climbing the steps and stepping inside without pausing.

Upstairs, I grab my things and head into the bathroom, turning the water on and stepping into the shower as soon as it heats up. The warmth helps, but my mind keeps replaying what I just saw.

The speed, impact, control.

I rinse off quickly and step out, wrapping a towel around myself before heading back to my room. I change into clean clothes and drop onto the bed, already reaching for my phone.

I search without overthinking it.

Marshall by Cassie Lein and Alisha Williams.

It pops up, and I stare at it for a second before hitting download.

“Might as well,” I murmur.

The book opens, and I settle back against the pillows, scrolling to the first page.

I tell myself I just need something to do. Something to pass the time. But my mind keeps drifting.

Back to the barn, to the videos, to them.

I exhale slowly and force my eyes back to the screen, focusing on the words in front of me instead of everything else.

Chapter

Seven

Autumn

The kitchen is quiet when I come down. Three days in, and I’m still not used to how this place settles at night.

Clint’s at the sink, sleeves pushed up, rinsing plates like it’s second nature. I’ve seen him do this every night since I got here, like cleaning up is just part of how he winds down. The other two must’ve disappeared somewhere, because it’s just him and the sound of running water.

I hesitate in the doorway for half a second before stepping in.

He glances over his shoulder. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I say, a little too quickly. “Just… got hungry. Didn’t feel like coming down earlier.”

His mouth twitches like he wants to smile, but doesn’t quite commit. “There’s more on the stove. Help yourself.”