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“Nothing. There’s a lot here. It might take some time.” These coordinates are spread all over the Pacific Northwest.

Shit.

“The way your face screwed up, I thought someone pissed in your Cheerios.” Wade wrinkles his nose. “We could be one step closer with this to finding out who’s fucking with Mason. Theyallneed to suffer the same fate as those two in the silo.” He runs his fingers through his red locks. “Mason doesn’t deserve it,” he mumbles.

He doesn’t. Mason McCullough is one of the best men I know.

His brother, Dixon, ranks right up there too.

Wade scratches the scruff on his jaw. “Ford did the right thing thinning those two monsters out of the herd.”

“We’ve all done our share of culling.” I flip the pages idly, but freeze.

Is that?

No.

“What now? Jesus, Blue, watching your expressions makes me think I need to hand you a puke bucket.” He braces his palms and pushes himself away exaggeratedly.

But I can’t look at him.

All I can focus on is the grainy image of Libby, smiling behind the wheel ofher truck.

Chapter Twelve

Libby

As the trailer pullsaway, I know I should be grateful that Dad got such good prices for those cows.

Or that Blue set up the deal in the first place.

But all I feel is a bitter hollowness in my chest.

They will be the first ofallof them leaving our farm. Then will come the part of selling the equipment.

I refuse to accept this. There has to be another way.

Anger simmers beneath my skin as I scrub off the morning’s work in the shower.

Dad needs money.

Banks have it.

I’ll just ask for a loan. Maybe I can buy the dairy, and he can pay off his medical debts?

Yes.

It’ll work.

Newly inspired, I hustle through the rest of getting cleaned up and find a nice, clean pair of jeans with a fitted blouse.

And the heels I wore on my birthday.

A flush of heat races through me. It’s impossible to forget how Blue felt when he touched me.

Damn it.

What if I let the farm go?