It was a heck of a crop.
“Tory, get the hell out of there,” Steel growled in her ear.
“You should have told us what you’re doing here,” she hissed, unable to make herself speak out loud even if she was alone out here. “You’re putting all of us in danger.” She’d seen enough. Eager to get away from the illicit crop, she ducked back through the hedgerow, tucked her phone in her pocket for the moment so she could remount Lily, lifted a foot to the stirrup, swung herself up—and froze.
Something had moved in the closest outbuilding.
Lily sidestepped with an anxious little nicker.
“Easy,” she whispered, pulling her phone out again.
“…has anything to do with you. Get out of there now,” Steel was saying when she pressed it to her ear.
Tory hardly dared to breathe, let alone move. She kept her gaze on the grimy window of the outbuilding, unable to make out anything distinct in there. Was it a person or something else? A bird or an animal—
Was it one of Steel’s shady friends?
“Tory? You still there?”
“Someone’s here,” she whispered into the phone.
“Who?”
She could almost see Steel spring into action, although of course she had no idea where he was or what he was doing. He was coming to save her—she knew it.
If he wasn’t close, he wouldn’t get here in time.
“I don’t know,” she whispered. “He’s in one of the buildings. Something’s in there, anyway. I’m outside—on Lily.”
“Tory, listen to me. Turn Lily around and ride like hell. You hear me? Don’t stop for anything.”
“But—”
“Right now. Right this very second. One, two, three—go!”
Tory turned Lily and rode like the wind.
Chapter Ten
The following morning, Liam decided he’d done all he could to prepare for the inspection. Now it was out of his hands. This was just a preliminary one, he reminded himself, to make sure the Flying W was set to proceed via organic principles. It would still be three years before the ranch could start labeling its beef organic. If he got it wrong this time, however, it would take even longer for that three-year stint to start. He was impatient to get going. He hadn’t heard again from Tory, and he hadn’t texted her, either, not wanting to crowd her. She was a woman who valued her independence. He respected that.
He stepped out of the barn and scanned the surrounding pastures. Maybe the grass was yellowing and the dirt was cracked, but Liam didn’t think there was any place on earth more beautiful. This was his home. The land was in his blood. Always would be, no matter what happened next.
Still, he felt jittery as a cat being stalked by a coyote. When he’d led his football team years ago, only one thing had helped him calm his nerves before a game, but he wasn’t about to reach for a bottle now. Maybe a nice long walk would have the same effect. At the very least, he’d get a good reminder of what he was working so hard to save.
Liam let his feet lead him where they would, and twenty minutes later he found himself at the fence that separated the Flying W from the Ridley property. Getting organic certification was an important step, but the only thing that would stop his mother was giving her something other than the Flying W to sell. Uncle Jed would kick up a storm of protest if they did, but he’d leave Jed and Mary to fight that out between them.
One thing at a time.
Liam opened an old gate in the fence and kept walking, letting the unfamiliar terrain take his mind off his own ranch. He could afford to spend an hour or two thinking about something other than the Flying W.
Couldn’t he?
Liam sighed as doubts crept in. He picked up his pace, trying harder to relax. It didn’t seem to help. He passed the ramshackle house and followed a track to the bridge that spanned Pittance Creek. He paused for a moment to take in the sluggish trickle of water beneath. Surely it had to rain soon. Eager to put those worries behind him, he kept going toward the old outbuildings. Only their roofs were visible over all the brush and trees that had grown up around them.
Who had he inherited this tendency to overthink things from? Certainly not his father. William Turner didn’t have that gene. He’d been an implacable and steadfast man, whether leading his high school football team to victory, if the stories Liam had heard were right, or organizing the ranch hands to overcome some crisis.
Nothing like him, as Jed was all too quick to point out.
Liam stopped in the shade of one of the upstart saplings to get his thoughts under control. His father had been in amazing shape for a man his age, always finding the energy to toss a ball or roughhouse with his children after a long day of ranching. How did a man like that come to die of a heart attack?
Maybe William had carried more stress on the inside than he ever let on.
Before Liam could follow that line of thought any farther, his ears picked up a sound—men talking. Who else was trespassing on Ridley property?
Liam moved toward them cautiously. The voices weren’t over by the buildings. They seemed to emanate from the far side of an overgrown hedgerow he’d noticed on previous occasions when he crossed this way but never investigated any closer. After a few minutes, he found a faint path through the thick brush and stopped short when he reached the other side.
Hell, that was pot—a whole field of it.
Who the hell had planted it?
He couldn’t help where his mind went. This part of the Ridley property bordered Cooper land. The
