Page 13 of A Mile of Ocean (Pelican Pointe #19)

W ord spread throughout town during the night that Rio Verde Ranch needed help. They were under siege. Lucien Sutter and Brogan Cole showed up, bringing Birk and Beckett Callahan—two former Navy Seals—to offer whatever help they could provide.

With school out, Savannah didn’t have the luxury of sitting around enjoying summer vacation. She stood in the stables alongside the others, willing to do her part. But the teacher had met with stubborn resistance from Trent.

“You’re a man down. It will take Brock a week to regain the use of his arm, maybe longer,” she argued. “And even then, he won’t be a hundred percent. You need an extra pair of hands now. Admit it. Even your grandmother and Tate agree with me. And for your information, I can ride as well as anyone else here.”

“But can you shoot?” Trent countered. “You realize you’d be putting your life on the line. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me. I’m volunteering to pitch in like every neighbor you see standing here. I’ve lost a brother to a psycho, which means I refuse to sit around and do nothing this time when it comes to stopping a killer.”

“Savannah and I both ride quite well,” Brogan pointed out, trying to help Savannah’s cause. “Although I’m not good with guns, Beckett, Birk, and Lucien compensate for that. I can undoubtedly relieve Trish and Eastlyn at the monitor if it comes to that. There must be something we can do to help fortify the ranch. We women are not helpless.”

“You could pair Savannah with someone who knows how to shoot,” Birk proposed. “Same with Brogan. I can’t ride a horse worth a crap, but I make a damn good marksman. Set me up in one spot with a three-hundred-and-sixty view, and I guarantee it’ll make a difference.”

“In other words,” Lucien began, “they’re excellent with a rifle but can’t ride worth a hoot. Me? I’m not good on a horse either. So, put us somewhere to utilize our skills to the fullest advantage. We brought our own firepower.”

“And we brought Brody and Journey,” Beckett added. “They’re excellent trackers. Turn them loose, and they’ll sniff this guy out from wherever he’s hiding.”

“That makes sense,” Trent acknowledged, rubbing his forehead. “I’m sorry, guys. I’m just tired and not thinking clearly. I haven’t had more than six hours of sleep in two days. Most of the men are in the same boat.”

“Which is the reason you need fresh replacements,” Beckett suggested.

Savannah watched him start to muck out the horse stalls. “I can do that,” she reminded Trent, pleased she had backup behind her. “Go catch a few hours of sleep now that you have new volunteers.”

Trent hesitated, weighing the sincerity in her eyes. “I’m not trying to be an ass,” he finally said. “I’m reluctant to put anyone else in danger. That’s all.”

“I get that. We all do. But there are times when everyone could use a hand. I’d say you’ve reached that breaking point,” Savannah said.

“I appreciate the help. I do,” he repeated, handing her the pitchfork. “Could you check on Taco and Trilby and move them into the main house for me?”

“Absolutely,” Savannah said, taking the pronged fork out of his hands.

Trent shook hands with the men as he headed for the exit. “Thanks for coming. It’s almost nine o’clock now. Let’s have a meeting at noon to go over a new strategy. We’ll pair up, try to even out the teams, and work on placing people with high-powered weapons around the best spots.”

When he left the stable, Savannah looked at Brogan and shook her head. “Have you ever met a more stubborn man?”

“I’m married to one,” Brogan replied, bobbing her head toward Lucien.

“I’m standing right here,” Lucien proclaimed. “He looks beat, exhausted. Who are Taco and Trilby?”

“Border collies who just had puppies. They’re located in Trent’s office right now to keep them safe, warm, and away from all this chaos. Dolly looks in on them from time to time. I’ll find them a safe place to stay in the house,” Savannah said.

“Let me do that,” Brogan offered. “One thing I can do is take care of the dogs and keep them out of harm’s way.”

Across the barn floor, Beckett’s phone dinged with a text message. “Looks like Colt found the black pickup east of town, abandoned. The VIN number had been reported stolen a week ago from a Sacramento used car lot. It doesn’t help much to identify the guy. But they did manage to pull fingerprints off the steering wheel. If he’s in the system, they should get a hit.”

“That’s progress,” Lucien stated before turning to Birk. “We should probably help Trent come up with a new plan. The old one doesn’t seem to work. Any suggestions?”

“First, I’d station snipers as high up as possible to keep an eye on everything, not just one sector. It seems to me this guy is bent on getting into the house for whatever reason,” Birk judged. “He’s already breached it once when he took out Slade and then tried again last night, getting damn close. Was he looking for something in particular?”

“Sounds like it,” Lucien agreed.

“Exactly. Well, Beckett and I could be the guys who keep him from achieving that goal,” Birk said, looking over at his brother.

With a nod, Beckett pointed outside. “We should take a tour of the property, so we’ll know where best to set up. We need to get the lay of the land. Let’s take the dogs with us. Who knows? Maybe they’ll pick up his scent from last night.”

With the men gone, Savannah and Brogan finished up in the stable before heading to Trent’s office. They could hear the soft whimpering from the border collies as they approached the door.

At the sight of Taco and Trilby nestled together with their tiny puppies squirming and nuzzling for warmth, Brogan’s heart softened. She gently picked up a puppy, cradling it against her chest, admiring all of them. “Oh my gosh, they’re so cute. I want one.”

“Oh, I’d take them all in a heartbeat,” Savannah said. “Don’t you want to just snuggle them all at once? Come on, guys. Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

“We’ll probably need to make two trips,” Brogan reasoned, coaxing the adult dogs to follow her. “We don’t want Taco and Trilby to think we’re stealing their pups.”

Together, the two women led the dogs and their pups out of the office and toward the main house, entering through the kitchen and finding Dolly hard at work making lunch.

“Trent wanted us to bring them closer to you,” Savannah explained.

“Well, thank goodness for that,” Dolly stated, wiping her hands on her apron. “It should’ve been done days ago. I have the perfect spot for them all picked out. Let’s settle them in the mudroom in that cozy corner next to the dryer. This should protect them from the noise of everything happening outside.”

“You mean the gunfire,” Savannah said. “I heard it got very intense last night.”

“It was horrible. None of us has had much sleep. Who sleeps with bullets flying everywhere? And yet, when they release Brock from the hospital, he’ll come and stay with us because it’s much easier to take care of him here than running in and out of the bunkhouse.”

“Have you heard from Tate?”

“Blake picked her up early this morning. She’s probably at home, trying to get a little nap in before tonight.”

Once they had made the dogs comfortable, Savannah and Brogan headed back outside, grateful for the brief moment of peace the puppies provided. But the tranquility was short-lived. As they stepped into the yard, the distant crack of gunfire reminded them of the chaos that lay beyond the ranch’s borders.

“Is that target practice, or has our gunman returned?” Savannah asked, ducking down, her brow furrowed with concern.

Brogan’s phone alerted to a text from Lucien. “It’s target practice. He’s perfecting his shot from long range. Speaking of practice, maybe we could take the horses out for a quick riding refresher course. It’s been a good while since I’ve been on a horse.”

Savannah chuckled. “No problem. I wouldn’t mind saddling up again to convince Trent that I know what I’m doing. But without Tate, how do we know which ones best suit us? Horses can be temperamental. We want the ones who aren’t. How long has it been since you were on a horse?”

“Don’t ask. I was in my teens the last time I rode through Malibu Canyon,” Brogan replied. “Let’s go take a look at the ones in the stable. Did you see that beautiful one with the reddish brown and white coat?”

“That’s Confetti Queen,” Duchess said with a smile, carrying her shotgun by her side. “She’s my favorite, too. Let’s go pick you out a couple of winners. I could use a nice long ride myself.”

They followed Duchess back to the horse barn, where she picked out two of the gentlest mares they owned. Savannah swooned over the one known as Giselle, a beautiful, graceful, two-toned brindle bay, softly stroking her mane. At the same time, Duchess chose a copper-colored sorrel named Penny Lane for Brogan. Penny Lane’s playful demeanor instantly put Brogan at ease.

Duchess watched Savannah put the saddle on Giselle while saddling Confetti Queen, nodding with approval when she fastened the last cinch with expertise. Brogan tried to follow Savannah’s lead but needed help with her gear. Duchess gladly repeated the steps for her benefit.

“How tight do I fasten the breast collar?” Brogan asked.

Patient as a priest, Duchess answered, “You want it snug but to allow enough room to make a fist between the collar and Penny Lane’s neck. Make sure there’s no slack. But you don’t want the saddle to slip. Make sure Penny’s comfortable with it. See?”

“Long time since I was on a horse,” Brogan admitted to Duchess as she put her foot in the stirrup and lifted herself onto the saddle.

“How does that feel?” Duchess asked.

“Great.”

“Brogan looks like she was born to ride, right?” Savannah said with a wink.

“Nothing better than born a horsewoman,” Duchess remarked with a chuckle, grabbing three bottles of water from a refrigerated unit at the end of the barndoor. “Put this in your pack. Never go out anywhere without taking water with you. Be prepared for anything on the trail.”

“Is that why you have the shotgun ?” Brogan asked.

“You bet. I didn’t have it with me the night Barrett died. I’m not making that mistake twice.”

“We have an hour before Trent’s meeting,” Savannah reminded them. “I don’t want to be late for it.”

“We have plenty of time to ride out to Turtle Ridge. I’ll teach you how to handle a shotgun. How’s that sound?” she promised.

“Show me too,” Brogan begged.

“I’ll show you both how easy it is to aim and shoot. You always aim for the chest, a bigger target. People are wrong when they say to aim for the head. It’s a smaller target and sometimes easy to miss in the heat of battle.”

Savannah and Brogan exchanged wide-eyed looks at the Duchess Callum, realizing why nobody ever argued with her.

Duchess pointed west toward the ocean and exclaimed, “Look at those clouds building. There’s a storm moving in. In less than eight hours, we’ll all spend a very wet Monday night. Enjoy the sunshine while it lasts, ladies. We’re in for an old-fashioned hammering storm tonight.”

The noon strategy session lasted three hours. To ensure everyone was on the same page, Trent gathered everyone for a debrief before heading out for the evening.

He shook up the teams by placing Savannah with him at the eastern boundary.

Knowing both were good with a rifle, he paired Tate with Blake together to patrol Painted Heart. He pulled Toby off the Painted Heart detail and teamed him with his grandmother, who had insisted on maintaining a presence on horseback like everyone else. Their team would patrol the northern corridor.

Lincoln and Cecil would move closer to the middle of the ranch to back up Toby and Duchess. Lucien and Brogan would shore up the southern defense behind Woody and Monty, who kept their positions at the southernmost border. He shifted Hawk and Drum to the western edge, so they were closer to the main house.

At Birk’s urging, he put the two former Navy Seals together on the rooftop of the main house, stationed behind two brick fireplace columns where they could see for miles.

“Thanks to all of you showing up today, we have seven teams instead of five to cover more ground. With Brock laid up for at least a week, I hope you guys know how much we appreciate your help,” Trent told the crew.

He held up a chart so that everyone could note the changes. “As you can see, the best marksmen are now stationed inside the perimeter. That’s because we believe he wants something inside the house, something he didn’t have time to get the first time he entered the night he took out Slade.”

“In case you missed it, that makes Dolly and Brock sitting ducks or bait,” Beckett added. “Either way you look at it, we won’t let this guy breach the house again. Remember, you’re the first line of defense. If he gets past you, we’re taking him out by the time he gets to the house.”

“And I thought things were bad before,” Monty grumbled. “With the storm moving in, it’s difficult to see in a downpour.”

“That’s why Birk will hand out waterproof NVGs or night vision goggles to give us an advantage,” Trent explained. “The forecast calls for a fast-moving storm with high winds, dropping a lot of moisture within a span of hours. That means a messy, chilly night.”

“We could all huddle inside the main house with Dolly and Brock in front of the fire,” Toby cracked.

Woody rolled his eyes. “Good thing we’re ranchers and undaunted by the weather. This means Brock will have time to recover as he should, and Dolly will keep fixing us meals we can eat on the go without building a fire. I didn’t see you get shot by an assault weapon last night. If you have any complaints about their setup, see me afterward. Otherwise, shut your piehole.”

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Toby grumbled. “I’m just glad Brock’s out of the hospital.”

Before tempers could flare more, Trent looked out over the sea of faces, dressed for a wet night on horseback. “Any more questions or comments? Now’s the time to get anything you’ve been holding back off your chest.”

“Who’s manning the monitor?” Brogan wanted to know.

“Tonight, it’s Eastlyn. Colt and Theo are set up a mile down the road. Anything else?”

Savannah raised her hand. “Why is it this guy strikes at night? It seems to be a pattern. Dusk to dawn, he’s creating havoc, killing people. Does he have a job during the daytime or what?”

“He’s likely a loner,” Trent answered. “He uses darkness to camouflage himself. Better to strike hot and fast at night than to fear getting caught in the middle of the day. Any other questions? If not, one more night of saddle sores and Dolly’s cold chicken salad sandwiches. Be careful. Stay alert. And don’t hesitate to call for backup.”

His mind was a whirl of strategies and worries as the crew dispersed, each team heading to their designated areas, the weight of the impending storm and uncertainty pressing upon them. He knew they were resilient, experienced, and prepared to face whatever danger lay ahead. He trusted their abilities. That went for Savannah, too. He looked across the room to see her bundled up in a slicker she’d borrowed from Brock, her backpack slung on one shoulder, her smile radiating confidence, her silvery gray eyes shimmering in wonder at the adventure ahead. The sight of her went a long way to boost his morale.

“You’re looking exceptionally prepared for a hike in the wilderness on a cold, rainy night,” Trent teased. “No sleeping in a tent tonight, I’m afraid.”

“If only sleeping in a tent was the least of our worries,” she fired back.

“Not a tent person?”

“Not in weather like this. We’re talking nightmares as a kid at camp when the wind blew my tent into the bushes. I had to run after it into the unknown. I don’t even want to talk about peeing in the bushes.”

That cracked Trent up. “I swear there will be no tent tonight. You’ll be lucky to stay warm enough to complain.”

“You really know how to sweeten the pot, don’t you?”

“So I shouldn’t mention that bathroom breaks are generally behind the nearest bush. I hope you packed toilet paper.”

“Of course I did. And they’re known as bush wees,” Savannah joked. “Tate took me aside and explained the rudimentary act of making sure you pick the right bush.”

They laughed together as they stepped out into the air, thick with the smell of rain, mingled with the scent of earth and grass.

The first drops of rain spit out of the sky around them.

He pulled the collar up on her slicker and adjusted the hood over her head so she could still see. “Seriously, if you get cold—”

“Stop. I’m not a delicate flower. I’m not a kid and still afraid of the dark. I’ve ridden in the rain before. I won’t melt.”

He grinned. “I don’t see you melting in any situation.”

“We’ll see about that,” she muttered as they headed for the stables.