Page 19 of Storm in Montana (Montana Becketts, Wild Spirit Ranch #3)

Samuel’s mount kicked up clouds of snow and mud as they thundered along the road to Mystic, the young ranch hand’s knuckles white against the reins.

His heart hammered in time with the horse’s hooves, each beat driving home the urgency of his mission.

The message from Cody Beckett burned in his mind like a brand.

“Rustlers have returned to the valley. We have proof of their hideout in Black Canyon. Not a moment to waste.”

The streets of Mystic were strangely empty as Samuel’s horse skidded to a halt outside the sheriff’s office.

He nearly tumbled from the saddle in his haste, boots hitting the wooden boardwalk with a hollow thud.

Inside, Sheriff Brodie Gaines looked up from his desk, green eyes sharp beneath the brim of his hat.

“Cody Beckett sent me,” Samuel gasped, chest heaving. “Rustlers. He’s found their trail leading to Flatrock.”

Brodie rose from his chair. “Nash,” he called to the deputy warming his hands by the wood-burning stove. The auburn-haired man turned to look at him, reading the urgency in his superior’s stance.

“Saddle up,” Brodie ordered, already strapping on his gunbelt. “Samuel, catch your breath. You’ll ride back with us.”

Jubal Whitton, Brodie’s other deputy, stood on the boardwalk as Brodie stepped outside. “Cody Beckett believes he knows where the rustlers are hiding. I’m taking Nash with me. You’ll be on your own, Jube.”

Straightening and squaring his shoulders, the deputy rested his hand on the butt of his six-shooter. “Yes, sir. I won’t let anything happen to the citizens while you’re gone.”

Brodie forced away a smile at Jubal’s pronouncement. “I’m certain you won’t.”

The trio mounted their horses within minutes, hooves thundering across the packed snow as they headed toward Wild Spirit Ranch. Samuel’s young mount strained to keep pace with the more seasoned horses of the lawmen.

Wild Spirit Ranch sprawled before them as they crested the final rise, smoke rising from multiple chimneys against the darkening morning sky. Ranch hands moved between the buildings, their usual easy manner replaced by taut vigilance.

Brodie dismounted in the main yard, tossing his reins to a waiting hand, his mind moving to Annalee. Lately, the slightest thought of her made his chest tighten. Before leaving to locate the outlaws, he’d make certain she and those who stayed behind were safe.

He climbed the steps to the sprawling ranch house, raising his hand to knock. Before his knuckles rapped on the door, it opened, revealing Naomi Beckett’s worried face.

“They’re in the dining room,” she said, stepping aside. The scent of coffee mingled with wood smoke and gun oil as Brodie entered, Nash close behind.

The massive oak dining table dominated the room, usually the setting for boisterous family meals.

Now, it served as a war council. Cody Beckett stood at its head, looking down at a map of Wild Spirit Ranch spread out in front of him.

Tripp Lassiter traced a line across the map, his finger following the curve of Black Canyon.

“Brodie,” Cody acknowledged, voice clipped. “They’ve hit three ranches in the past week. Found tracks leading to Flatrock.”

“Signs of at least eight men,” Tripp added, straightening to his full height. “They were moving cattle fast through the high country.”

Grayson Beckett, the eldest, emerged from the kitchen, coffee cup in hand. His gaze met Brodie’s before moving to the map. “These aren’t ordinary rustlers. They’re organized, efficient, and growing bolder by the day.”

Elijah entered next, his stoic presence drawing attention without a word. He took up position near the fireplace, arms crossed, gaze focused on the map. Joshua followed, completing the gathering of the oldest Beckett brothers, each man radiating quiet competence and barely contained fury.

“They’re using the old mining trails,” Cody said, indicating the twisted paths through the mountains. “They’re splitting the herds into smaller groups so they can take the narrow trails and avoid the main passes.”

“They know which herds to hit when the hands are spread thin,” Tripp added.

Brodie studied the map, mind working through the possibilities. “How many men can you spare?”

“Four of us,” Grayson answered, indicating himself and his brothers. “Plus Tripp. The rest need to protect the herds and the ranch.”

Nash spoke up from his position near the door. “Weather’s turning. Storm coming in from the north. Could work in our favor,” he shrugged. “Cover our approach.”

“Or trap us in the canyon if we’re not careful,” Joshua observed quietly, his voice carrying the weight of experience.

The fire crackled in the hearth as they discussed options.

Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the windows with increasing insistence.

Brodie traced the route to Flatrock with his finger, considering angles of approach, potential ambush points, and escape routes.

He pulled the pocket watch from his shirt, studying it a moment before slipping it away.

“We have several hours of light left,” he decided. “Eight of us should be enough if we can catch them by surprise. Any more, and we risk being spotted before we’re ready.”

Cody nodded. “We need to get going.”

The group dispersed to prepare, leaving Brodie alone with Cody at the table. The rancher’s eyes burned with intensity, indicating more might be going on.

“I don’t believe these men are just rustlers,” Cody said softly, his voice carrying undertones of steel. “I’ve never come across this level of organization. Except…” His voice trailed off as his gaze took on a hard look.

Brodie met his old friend’s gaze, believing Cody was thinking about his murdered wife and daughter. “We’ll find them.”

The wind howled outside, a fitting accompaniment to the preparations for violence to come. In the gathering darkness, the men of Wild Spirit Ranch transformed from peaceful brothers into a determined posse, preparing for their own brand of war.

The thud of boots on the hard-packed ground announced Annalee’s arrival before she appeared in the barn’s open doorway, her blue eyes blazing. She carried her rifle with the ease of long familiarity.

“I’m riding with you,” she declared, her voice cutting through the low murmur of conversation. The men turned to face her, their expressions ranging from surprise to humor.

Brodie stepped forward, his shadow stretching across the floorboards. “Annie—”

“Don’t ‘Annie’ me, Brodie Gaines.” She strode toward him. “I know every inch of this territory. I’ve tracked cattle through Black Canyon in the dead of night. I can outshoot half the men in this room, and you know it.”

Grayson exchanged glances with Elijah, who remained stone-faced beside his horse. Joshua’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile, quickly hidden behind his hand.

“It’s not about your abilities,” Brodie began, his voice gentler than his words. “These outlaws—”

“These outlaws have been stealing our cattle, threatening our livelihood.” Annalee’s fingers tightened on her rifle. “They don’t care if I’m a woman when they’re running off with our stock. Why should it matter when we’re bringing them to justice?”

The wind whipped around outside as if emphasizing her words. Dark clouds gathered on the horizon, promising the storm Nash had predicted.

Cody finished adjusting the saddle on his gelding before turning toward Brodie. “She’s right. We need every advantage we can get. Annie knows the land better than most, and she can handle herself in a fight.”

“I won’t be a liability,” Annalee promised, her gaze locked with Brodie’s. “You’ve known me since I was old enough to hold a rifle. When have I ever backed down from a challenge?”

The silence stretched, broken only by the building storm outside.

Brodie studied her face, seeing not the young girl who used to tag along after him and Cody, chronically ignored while they played at being heroes.

Instead, he saw a grown woman, capable and determined, her spirit as untamed as the land they called home.

“She’s earned her place,” Joshua added quietly. “Same as any of us.”

Tripp Lassiter cleared his throat. “An extra gun could make the difference, especially if they’re as organized as we think.”

The tension in the room shifted like a changing wind. Brodie’s resistance crumbled in the face of their united support and Annalee’s unwavering determination.

“You ride with us,” he conceded. “Stay close to Joshua, and—”

“I know how to handle myself in a fight,” she interrupted, though her voice had softened. “I won’t let you down.”

The group broke apart to make final preparations, the addition of Annalee adding a new dynamic to their carefully laid plans. She moved with quiet competence, checking her ammunition and supplies.

Brodie caught her arm as she passed, his touch light but insistent. “Annie.” She paused, looking up at him. “This isn’t a cattle drive or a shooting contest. These men won’t hesitate to—”

“I know the risks,” she said, her voice low and intense. “Same as you. Same as my brothers. I choose to face them.”

He released her arm, watching as she joined Joshua by the door. The younger Beckett brother smiled at his sister, a quick flash of reassurance in the gathering gloom. Outside, the wind picked up strength, carrying the first hint of snow on its breath.

“Storm’s coming,” Nash observed from his position near the open doors. “We should move soon if we want to get ahead of it.”

The group gathered their gear, the weight of weapons and responsibility settling around their shoulders like familiar coats. Annalee stood among them, her presence no longer questioned, her determination matching theirs step for step.

As they filed out, the ranch house stood silent behind them, its windows glowing with warmth they were leaving behind.

The horses stamped impatiently in the yard, their breath steaming in the cooling air.

Above, the clouds continued to gather, promising a night of challenge and change for all of them.