Page 6 of Storm in Montana (Montana Becketts, Wild Spirit Ranch #3)

“You’re late,” she said, but her relief painted the words with warmth rather than reproach.

“Had cause to be,” Grayson replied, brushing a kiss across her forehead. “We have a mare ready to foal. I’ll go back out after supper. Probably be sleeping out there tonight.”

Lilian appeared with an armful of blankets, distributing them with quiet efficiency while Parker trailed behind her, practically vibrating with curiosity. The youngest Beckett seemed ready to burst with questions, but a quelling look from his mother kept them bottled for the moment.

“Supper’s ready,” Naomi announced, looking between the men. “Whatever news you’ve brought can wait until you’re warm and fed.”

The men arranged themselves around the long table, their movements carrying the weight of whatever they’d discovered out in the storm.

Brodie took the offered seat beside Annalee, and she caught the scent of winter and leather rising from his coat.

Their eyes met briefly as she passed him a bowl of potatoes, and the flush that colored her cheeks had nothing to do with the kitchen’s warmth.

For a while, the only sounds were those of meals being served and consumed.

The clink of utensils, the murmur of “pass the bread,” and the comfortable silence of people who knew each other well enough not to fill every moment with words.

But tension rode beneath the domestic scene, a current under river ice, waiting to break through.

It was Brodie who finally spoke, his voice carrying over the murmurs of supper. “Tripp and I saw signs the cattle are missing by more than rustlers.” He paused, fork hovering above his plate. “The tracks don’t make sense. Strangest stuff I’ve ever seen.”

Parker’s laugh cut through the gravity of the moment. “That can’t be true. You’ve been tracking your whole life. Tracks are tracks.” His amusement withered under Brodie’s steady gaze.

“Not these,” he answered.

“I heard something.” Cody’s words fell into the silence following Brodie’s last comment.

“There’s a man who can train wolves to do his bidding.

Up north, near the Canadian border. They say he’s got some kind of power over them.

Uses them to run cattle where he wants them, picking off the weak ones for his pack. ”

The statement hung in the air, too fantastic to be believed, too specific to be dismissed. Elijah’s hand tightened on his coffee cup until his knuckles showed white. “Wolves don’t work that way,” he said, but doubt threaded through his words.

“Neither do cattle thieves,” Nathan added, “but something’s been happening to our herds all the same.”

Jolene leaned forward. “You’ve seen these wolves?” The question was directed at Brodie, but her eyes flickered to Grayson, seeking reassurance.

“Saw their tracks,” Brodie confirmed. “Bigger than any wolf prints I’ve encountered before.

And they were moving in patterns neither Tripp nor I had ever seen before.

Organized, as if they were following orders.

” He reached into his coat and withdrew a folded piece of paper.

“Drew this out there in the snow. Never seen these types of markings before.”

The paper made its way around the table, each person studying the strange symbols Brodie had copied. When it reached Annalee, her brows rose. “The lines flow together, forming odd shapes.”

“Could be Indians,” Parker suggested.

“No,” Cody cut in, his voice hard as winter ground. “This is something else. Something worse.” The words carried extra weight coming from him. He was a man who’d tracked his wife and daughter’s killers across three territories and seen the worst humanity had to offer.

The wind chose that moment to throw itself against the house with renewed vigor, making the flames in the lamps dance. Shadows leaked across the walls, and for a moment, everyone at the table seemed to draw closer together, as if seeking shelter in their unity.

“Whatever it is,” Grayson said, his hand finding Jolene’s beneath the table, “we’ll deal with it as we always do.”

“We should organize a proper search,” Brodie suggested, his shoulder brushing against Annalee’s as he reached for the coffee pot. “Get men from town, do this right.”

“In this weather?” Naomi’s practical tone cut through the growing tension. “You’ll all freeze to death before you find anything.”

“The storm won’t last forever,” Annalee said, surprising herself by speaking. When Brodie turned to look at her, she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Whatever’s out there might not wait for spring.”

A murmur of agreement rippled around the table. Outside, the wind’s voice changed pitch, becoming closer to a howl, maybe a laugh. Inside, the family’s shared meal became a council of war, planning and protecting as they’d always done.

The conversation continued well into the late evening.

Beneath it all ran a current of unease, a sense something had changed in their world.

The wilderness beyond their windows had always held dangers.

This was different. This threat walked the line between natural and supernatural, between the world they knew and something darker.

As the night deepened and the storm showed no signs of abating, each person knew tomorrow would bring new challenges.

For now, they had the warmth of family, the strength of unity, and the determination that had carried the Becketts through every trial they’d faced since claiming this piece of Montana as their own.

The wind howled again, and this time, no one could quite convince themselves it was only another storm.