Page 55 of The Wrong Ride Home (Wildflower Canyon #1)

elena

“ N ext time, have someone at the gate who doesn’t get fuckin’ scared because a hundred-pound woman throws her weight around,” Duke barked at Hunt.

He’d assigned a young ranch hand to the gate, and the kid had let Gloria through. She was Duke’s mother, after all. Even though he’d been instructed to call Hunt, Duke, or me before allowing any guests in, he’d been too intimidated to question her and let her drive in without alerting anyone.

“Go easy,” I soothed Duke. “No harm done.”

“But what if she had a gun on her?” Hunt shook his head. “The woman is whacked.”

Even as life normalized since the shooting incident, it also changed.

Duke was running the place now, and that was a hell of a lot different than when Nash was. Back then, Hunt and I were left to make the tough calls on our own— especially after Mama died and Nash checked out emotionally. Now, we had someone to turn to and make decisions with. That was the good part.

The bad part was the tension hanging over Wilder Ranch like a storm cloud. Security had been tightened, and everyone—hands, staff, even the damn horses—seemed on edge, waiting, both literally and figuratively, for the next shot to be fired.

I tapped my fingers on the dining table and looked at a lounging Hunt and a pensive Duke who’d called us to the house for a meeting.

We were gathered in the formal dining room—though calling it that felt wrong, considering we mostly used it as an office.

Meals were had in the kitchen or with the hands in the mess hall.

“I know you’re busy,” he said contritely. “But we’re waitin’ on a couple more people.”

“Who?” Hunt asked.

“Mac and Nokoni,” he said cryptically.

I turned to Hunt. “You know about this?”

Hunt raised both his hands, palms out. “I’m Paul, this is between y’all .”

“All evidence to the contrary since you’re in this fuckin’ meeting,” I quipped.

Once Mac and Nokoni came, there was a flurry of greetings, and then everyone settled.

“How much does everyone know?” Mac asked as he opened his laptop.

“We know fuck all,” I replied.

Mac grinned. “Right. How’s the shoulder? ”

“Dandy,” I said at the same time as Duke revealed, “It hurts her to sleep on her side.”

I arched an eyebrow. “That your way of telling Mac and Nokoni we’re sleeping together?”

“Wildflower Canyon is a small place, darlin’, the entire county knows,” Nokoni remarked with good humor.

“Can we get this show on the road?” I looked at my watch. “I need to get to the stables.”

That had been an argument. I was fine , as in I could do my job—but Duke insisted that Ben do all the heavy lifting while I was supposed to sit like a queen on a gossamer perch. Like hell!

Mac didn’t look up from his laptop screen. “Duke’s changed his will.”

“Jesus Christ, Duke.” My voice came out rougher than I meant, my body tight with anger and something that felt too much like fear. “Is this really necessary?”

Duke’s gaze locked on mine. “Yeah. It is.”

“You’re not dying on me,” I announced. My heart stuttered at the thought that there would be a world where Duke Wilder wasn’t alive. He didn’t have to be with me, but he had to be alive so I could watch him in my mind’s eyes and know he was safe.

“People make wills, Elena, not because they’re dying but to protect their assets and loved ones and in that fuckin’ order,” Mac stated dryly.

Nokoni sat back in his chair, arms crossed, watching us with quiet interest. I don’t think he knew either what the hell was going on or why he was here .

“Okay, so let’s get to the highlights. If something happens to Duke, as in he dies,” he paused for dramatic effect, and I rolled my eyes, “everything, and that’s the ranch, the business in Dallas, everything goes to Elena Rivera.”

I blinked. "What?"

"If something happens to me”—Duke’s voice was steady, too steady—"everything goes to Elena and any children we might have."

I felt like I’d been kicked in the chest by a rank colt—stunned, breathless, and knocked clean off balance. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.

Duke wasn’t done.

"And in the event of your passing, and if we have no children, all non-ranch assets go to you”—he turned to face our friend—“Hunt. That’s Ironwood, the houses…everything.”

Hunt looked much like I had a moment ago. “The who? The what?”

“You’re my only family outside of Elena,” Duke said softly.

“Don’t worry about it,” I muttered. “I’m gonna outlive your ass.”

Hunt chuckled, shaking his head.

“And the ranch”—Duke turned to Nokoni—"shall be placed in a land conservation trust for Nokoni’s tribe, with binding conditions: no development, no sale, no roads.

The land must remain in its natural state, preserved indefinitely.

It will no longer operate as a ranch, but it will remain untouched as it is now. "

Nokoni’s eyes went wide and then moist. “That’s a hell of a thing, Duke.”

“It’s the right thing,” Duke said solemnly. “We protect the land this way.”

“The will also states that Elena, you, and your children, cannot rezone the land, use it for any other purpose than how it’s being used.” Mac looked around the room.

Hunt whistled. “It’d be seriously profitable for you, Elena, if Duke croaks.”

I punched Hunt in the shoulder. He gave out a fake ouch .

Nokoni let out a long breath, still looking like someone had hit him over the head. "Duke, are you sure about this?"

Duke nodded. "I’m sure."

I finally found my voice. "You’re out of your Goddamn mind," I snapped. "You don’t just hand your entire legacy over to me like that."

Duke’s gaze didn’t waver. “You’re my family, so it’s your legacy, too.”

Goddamn him.

"You don’t even know if I’m staying," I tried again, desperate for him to see how insane this was.

"Doesn’t change a damn thing," he quipped.

I clenched my jaw, heart pounding, hands trembling. This was too much.

Mac cleared his throat. "Just letting you know that once it's signed and notarized, it'll be officially recorded with the county clerk. Copies will be filed with your attorney and executor, and the original will be kept on record.”

“Let’s get to it.”

I swallowed hard, but my voice still came out shaky. "Wait. What if I don’t want it?"

Duke’s lips curled just slightly. "Too bad."

Nokoni came up to Duke before he left and hugged him. When he set him away, tears rolled down his cheeks. “Thank you. For not selling. For making that will.”

Duke shrugged and then grinned. “Just sayin’, Nokoni, I’m plannin’ on having a shit ton of kids, so I don’t know if you’ll get your hands on the ranch.”

Nokoni looked at me. “Shit ton of kids?”

I sighed with feigned distress. “I have no words.”

That night, when we lay in bed, gasping for air because we’d both just come hard, I told him that I didn’t like that he had a will.

He stroked my back as I lay on top of him. He was still inside me, spasming with aftershocks. He’d refused to make love to me until I’d forced the issue tonight, riding him for all I was worth.

“Gotta have a will, Elena, when there’s so much money involved, or the government will stake a claim.” He kissed my hair. “That’s the legal stuff. Emotionally, I need to know if something happens to me, you’re taken care of.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” I whined, raising my head.

“I’m going to work real hard to stay safe and keep you safe, Florecita ,” he murmured. “But shit happens, yeah? ”

Duke’s warm, steady breath brushed against my bare shoulder as I lay curled against him, my body relaxed, my mind quiet for the first time in weeks.

Then—the yelling began.

“ Fire ,” I heard someone scream.

“Fuck!” Duke sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. The muscles in his back tensed, shoulders squared.

I was about to get out of bed when he stopped me. “Stay put.” His voice was gruff, commanding.

My brows pulled together. “Like hell!”

“I mean it, Elena.” He pulled on his jeans, then grabbed his boots and shirt, moving fast. Too fast. He kissed me quickly. “Just stay here. I’ll handle it.”

I didn’t stay put. I threw on my clothes and boots.

“What’s going on?” Itzel asked, bundling into a robe when I got to the kitchen hallway.

“Fire. Take care of Ally.”

I was about ten minutes behind Duke, and I ran all the way to the stables, my shoulder throbbing. I wasn’t a hundred percent. It took a while to get better from a gunshot wound.

The air was dense with smoke and thick with panic. Flames devoured the barn, turning the night into a blinding inferno—a nightmare brought to life. Voices shouted orders, and hands moved fast—a bucket line was already forming. But then, over the roar of the fire, I heard my horse, Whiskey Rush.

No!

I ran to the stables, confident that Duke and Hunt had the barn fire under control.

When I got there, the stalls were empty, just as they should be.

The horses had already been moved to the paddock—standard protocol during a fire: keeping them confined inside a structure, even one that wasn’t burning, was too risky.

Smoke could spook them, cause them to thrash, bolt, or injure themselves.

Out in the open, they had space, air, and safety.

But then, over the distant crackling of flames, I heard a muffled sound, a cough. Someone was still inside.

“Whiskey isn’t moving,” Ben cried out when he saw me.

I sprinted toward him, finding him crouched near a stall, hands gripping the gate.

His face was streaked with soot and sweat.

Inside, Whiskey Rush stood stiff-legged, ears pinned back, eyes rolling white with fear.

The powerful stallion wasn’t moving—not fighting, not thrashing, just frozen.

His muscles were locked up, his sides heaving.

Smoke curled thick and acrid through the stable, burning my throat and stinging my eyes. Whiskey Rush snorted hard, his whole body coiled tight with fear, stomping once before planting his hooves like he was rooted to the ground.

“Come on, boy!” Ben coaxed, pushing open the stall door.

Whiskey didn’t move. Wouldn’t. Too scared. Too overwhelmed. I didn’t hesitate .

“Keep the door open,” I ordered as I stepped inside, laying a firm hand on the stallion’s neck.

His muscles twitched beneath my palm, his nostrils flaring wide. “Easy, boy,” I murmured, keeping my voice steady despite the rising panic in my chest. “I know it’s bad, but we gotta go now.”

I grabbed his halter, giving a firm but gentle tug. He resisted, eyes rolling, ears pinned back against his skull. Behind me, Ben coughed hard, his breath rasping.

“Get the hell out of here, Ben,” I snapped, keeping my voice calm for Whiskey. “I got this.”

Ben didn’t argue—just turned and disappeared into the haze of smoke.

I pressed my forehead to Whiskey’s for half a second, grounding myself and him. He was scared, but so was I.

I took a slow step back, giving him space and coaxing rather than forcing. His ears flicked, his breath heavy and fast, but finally, finally, he took a shaky step forward. Then another.

“Good boy,” I murmured.

Jace’s voice cut through the smoke. “Elena!”

I turned, leading Whiskey out of the stall. “Get him out of here.” I shoved the reins at him, barely sparing a glance as Jace took off toward the paddocks.

“Ben?” I looked around and didn’t see him. He wouldn’t have gone far. My stomach lurched. “Ben!” I called but got no response.

Fuck!

I ducked back into the stable, visibility damn near gone. The smoke burned my lungs as I scanned the burning stable the best I could, heart hammering. I found Ben on the other end on his knees, coughing so hard he couldn’t catch his breath.

“Fuck!” I bolted forward. “Ben, what the fuck you doin’ here?”

“Got lost,” he managed to say.

Right then, a loud crack split the air.

One of the overhead beams—half-burned, weakened—broke loose. Ben turned just as it came crashing down.

I lunged, shoving him with everything I had. He stumbled back, barely missing the beam, but the impact slid us into a stall, slamming the gate shut between us.

Smoke billowed, curling around us. My pulse pounded as I grabbed the latch and yanked hard. It didn’t budge.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I looked around fast—spotted the wooden beam at the side of the stall. “Hold on, Ben,” I gritted out, gripping the edge and swinging my leg over.

I dropped down beside him, looping my arm under his shoulder. “Come on, you’re not dying in here.”

He coughed but nodded, trusting me. We moved fast—I shoved the fallen debris aside and forced open a gap just wide enough.

"Go!" I ordered, pushing him forward.

He stumbled through, and I followed, hauling us both into the open air.

The second we cleared the threshold, Hunt grabbed Ben, half-carrying him away from the smoke .

I staggered, sucking in the cool night air, my whole body shaking.

"Jesus Christ, Elena," Duke ground out, his hands grabbing my face, blue eyes blazing with something raw and furious.

I opened my mouth—to say what, I didn’t know—but he just pulled me in, holding on like he’d never let go. The world tilted, and I began to crash. Strong arms wrapped around me, hauling me back. He carried me as my head lolled.

“You keep this up, I’m gonna wrap you in Goddamn bubble wrap.”

I managed a weak, soot-stained smirk. “Gotta catch me first.”

His face hardened as he set me down to stand on wobbly legs. "You almost died."

I swallowed. "Ben almost died."

Duke pressed his forehead against mine, his whole body still trembling.

"You’re killing me, baby," he whispered.

“I love you, too,” I breathed right before I blacked out.