Page 29 of July’s Cowboy Dallas

The room went quiet. I hadn't expected that. Not Dallas standing in front of Holt and Roy and saying he'd made the wrong call.

Roy recovered first. “That east gate's always been a problem. Anyone could've⁠—”

“How did you know it was the east gate?” I asked.

Roy stopped. Dallas hadn't mentioned which gate. Neither had I.

“I—” Roy glanced at Holt. “I was out there last week checking fences.”

“Were you?” I said.

“Holt asked me to move some stock early to make room for the rodeo intake.”

Holt's expression went flat. “I never asked you to use Miller land.”

Roy's face reddened. “It was convenient. The timing was tight. I didn't think⁠—”

“No, you didn't.” I pulled the evidence bag closer. “Here's what happens next. No questionable Hollister stock runs in the Fourth of July event. Replacement stock only. I'm filing a full report with the rodeo committee and the state veterinary board. And Roy no longer handles stock movement for this event.”

“Sadie.” Holt's voice carried a warning. “You understand what this does to our name?”

“No,” I said. “I understand what hiding it would do.”

Holt looked at me like I'd drawn a line he hadn't expected.

Maybe I had.

The door opened again. Tanner stepped inside, took in the room, and met my eyes.

“You’d better listen to Sadie,” Tanner said.

Holt's jaw worked. But he didn't argue.

Roy tried once more. “This is going to bring scrutiny we don't need.”

“Then we'll handle the scrutiny. The alternative is letting forged certifications slide and hoping no one notices when an injured animal collapses in the arena.” I looked at Holt. “I'm done protecting the family name at the expense of doing my job.”

Holt studied me. Then he nodded once. “Write the report. Keep it factual. No speculation.”

I nodded. “That's all it's ever been.”

Roy left without another word. Holt followed, pausing at the door.

“This isn't over, Sadie.”

“I know.”

He walked out.

Tanner lingered long enough to give me a look that might have been approval. Or solidarity. Then he left too.

Dallas and I stood alone in the stock office. The silence stretched. I didn't know what to say first. I knew what I wanted to do, which was different, and complicated, and involved crossing the room to a man I hadn't finished being angry at.

Dallas cleared his throat. “I should⁠—”

“Don't,” I said. “Don't leave yet.”

He stopped.