Page 16 of Sweet Surprise (Honeysuckle, Texas #2)

“I don’t know.” Alice Sweet ran the hoof pick through the crevice of Blaze’s front left hoof, carefully removing packed dirt and small stones. “All this sudden rush to install cameras everywhere. I don’t think I like it.”

“The world is changing.” Clint had already removed the saddle and blanket, placing them over the tack room door. “Pretty soon there will be cameras tattooed to people’s foreheads.”

Her hands stilling, Alice glanced over at their only ranch hand before moving to Blaze’s front right hoof. “So you don’t think it’s a big deal?”

“What I think doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me. You could have gone in with the others and been long gone by now, but you didn’t. What do you think?”

Clint approached Blaze’s head and gently stroked the horse’s cheek before unbuckling the bridle, easing the bit from the animal’s mouth. “Miss Sweet.”

“Alice.”

“Alice, I think as much as we’d all like to be living back in the days of Leave it to Beaver and The Brady Bunch , the world is changing and we have to change with it. If having a few cameras around the ranch makes your children happy, what does it hurt?”

It wasn’t the cameras themselves that bothered her, it was the unexpected urgency that came with them. “I suppose.” She moved to the horse’s back hooves, continuing her methodical cleaning.

Hanging the bridle on a hook, Clint retrieved a comb and brush from the grooming kit.

Working the comb in circular motions along Blaze’s dusty flanks, he loosened dirt and hair before following with the brush to sweep it away.

His gaze seemed pensive, teetering on concern, but she couldn’t be sure.

The man had never been a fountain of conversation—or smiles.

More than once she’d wondered what was the story behind the lone cowboy?

A week had gone by since they’d discovered the found and lost baler.

Cameras had been installed, and even though the family had been split on whether or not to tell their mother the reason why, the nay side won the argument.

Carson still wasn’t totally comfortable with that decision, after all, his mother wasn’t a feeble widow unable to deal with realty.

Then again, she had a lot of stress on her plate and not adding one more thing to it seemed reasonable.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Carson stepped out of the barn, and his new habit had him carefully scanning the yard. The Texas sun had begun its slow descent, stretching long shadows across the dust-packed ground. No sign of intruders, or trouble, and no sign of Mason.

His son was always easy to spot—usually perched on the porch railing with his sketchbook balanced on his knees, or chasing Brady and Samson in wide circles around the yard, his laughter carrying across the property. But the yard was empty, not even the faithful dogs were about.

An odd sensation crept up his spine, and an uneasy feeling settled between his shoulder blades. Something wasn’t right. He’d grown accustomed to the boy’s presence, the way he filled spaces with energy and questions and constant motion. The stillness felt wrong.

“Probably inside with Mom,” he muttered to himself, but even as he said it, the uneasiness grew.

Carson crossed the yard in long strides, taking the porch steps two at a time. The screen door creaked as he pulled it open and stepped into the cool dimness of the house.

“Mason?” His voice echoed in the entryway. No answer.

In the kitchen, Jess and his mother stood beside the counter, heads bent over a cookbook. His sister Jillian sat at the table peeling potatoes. The same table he’d expected—or hoped—to find Mason happily drawing.

Jess looked up, her smile blooming then instantly withering as she registered his expression. “What is it?”

“Have you seen Mason? He’s not in the barn, not outside.”

His mom straightened. “Isn’t he with you?”

“I haven’t seen him since lunch.” The weight in Carson’s stomach grew heavier.

“He’s probably upstairs.” Jess forced a smile that looked anything but relaxed.

“You’re probably right.” With Jess at his side, he strode to the bottom of the stairs and called up. “Mason!”

No response.

“Mason, honey,” Jess called up the hall, her voice not quite as calm or confident as he’d like. “Are you upstairs?”

Wiping her hands on her apron, Alice came beside them, her movements quick and efficient. “I’ll check the downstairs rooms.”

“Maybe his door is closed and he can’t hear us.” Carson took the steps three at a time, calling Mason’s name. The boy’s bedroom door stood ajar. Carson pushed it open, scanning the space—unmade bed, toys scattered across the floor, drawings tacked to the walls. But no Mason.

His gaze caught on the empty hook by the door where the backpack usually hung. The binoculars that normally sat on the nightstand were gone too.

“Blast,” he breathed, spinning on his heel and returning downstairs.

In the hallway, he nearly collided with Preston and Sarah.

“What’s going on?” Preston asked. “We heard shouting.”

“Can’t find Mason.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Have you checked the barns? You know how he loves the horses.”

“That’s where I came from. Not there.” A cold, heavy weight settled in Carson’s stomach.

“He wouldn’t leave the ranch alone, would he?” Jess leveled her gaze with his. “He knows better.” The last words sounded like she was trying to convince herself rather than stating a fact.

Where could the kid be?

“He can’t have gone far.” Preston’s words did little to erase the knots forming in Jess’s stomach.

Surely he wouldn’t run off. This ranch was so large, it would be easy to get lost and take days to find him.

No, she was not going to let her mind run away with thoughts like that.

Mason was a good boy. He had to be somewhere. Somewhere near.

Garret burst through the door. “What’s going on?”

“We can’t find Mason,” Sarah answered first.

Phone in hand, Garret began tapping. “Let me check the security cameras.”

Of course. Jess’s nerves eased slightly. That would let them see where Mason was.

As Garret pulled up the footage, Carson placed his hand firmly around Jess’s waist. She’d never been so thankful for a man’s support in her life. Her own hands felt clammy as she waited for a report on the footage.

Alice hovered behind her son, muttering prayers under her breath.

“There.” Garret pointed. “Out the door, looks like a bit over a two hours ago.”

Carson’s grip on her waist tightened ever so slightly. She could feel his tension, coiled tight like a rope about to snap. How had she not noticed her son had been gone for over two whole hours?

On the small screen, they watched Mason ease down the rear steps, backpack slung over his shoulder, Brady trotting at his heels. The boy looked back once at the house, then squared his shoulders and set off with determined strides.

“Why would he runaway?” Worry and disappointment mixed in her eyes.

Carson heaved a deep sigh. “There’s no reason for him to runaway. Where would he go? Why would he go?”

“The horses.” Jess’s fingers clenched at her side. “He’s been talking about them all week, drawing them, asking when we could go back to the canyon.”

“He took Brady,” Alice said, touching Jess’s arm. “That dog won’t let anything happen to him.”

Carson was already moving toward the door. “I’ll take the Jeep. We can cover more ground faster.”

“I’m coming with you.” Jess didn’t mean to snap.

Carson nodded once. “Preston and Sarah, Garret and Rachel—can you check the east and south sections, just in case. We’ll head west, follow his trail.”

“I’m coming too.” Alice tossed the rag she’d still been holding to one side.

“No.” Carson stepped away, closer to his mother. “Someone has to stay here in case he doubles back, let us know.”

She could see the reluctance in his mom’s face before she nodded, lips pressed tightly. “Makes sense.” Placing a hand on Carson and Preston’s shoulders, she gave them a little shove. “Now go find my grandson.”