Page 16 of August’s Cowboy Braxton

You should have left Cedar Draw buried.

The words stared up at me, and something in my chest cinched tight. This wasn't about me.

"They know," I said, my voice coming out softer than I wanted. "Whoever's been following me… they know I found something."

Braxton took the phone and read the message. His jaw tightened in a way that made him look dangerous and made me glad he was on my side. "This changes everything."

Morgan was already pulling out her own phone. "The earlier messages were about you. Your schedule, your safety. This one's about what you found."

I stared at the empty spaces in the album where the missing items should have been. "I told Evie."

Both of them looked at me.

"Before I ever showed the picture to Dallas and Sadie. I told her I was sorting through heritage material. That I'd found something interesting about the old rodeo queens and ranch families."

"What did she say?" Braxton held my gaze carefully, like he already knew the answer would matter more than I wanted it to.

"She said it was great. That historical material always made good showcase content. She asked if I needed help organizing it."

"Did she come here?"

"I don't know. I was only here twice. Once when I found the album, and once when I came back to grab it for Dallas."

Morgan stared at me with the same intense focus she'd given the box. "Who else knew you were working on this?"

"Ruby. Mayor Nelson. A few of the other committee volunteers." I tried to remember. "Kyle took photographs of some of the memorabilia for the website. But I hadn't pulled this box yet when he was here."

Braxton moved to stand between me and the door. Not to block me in, just positioning himself like he'd done at every event. Putting himself between me and whatever danger might come my way.

"How long between when you told Evie and when you came back for the album?" he asked.

"Three days. Maybe four."

"Plenty of time."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell him Evie wouldn't do this. She'd been my mentor since I was sixteen. She taught me how to handle sponsors, how to smile through uncomfortable situations, how to deal with unwanted attention without making a scene. She taught me how to survive being visible.

Braxton was watching me with the same flat, assessing look he probably gave every threat he'd ever sized up. "Who taught you how to smile when someone makes you uncomfortable?"

The question caught me off guard, but I knew exactly what he meant. Evie had taught me that. How to deflect. How to keep everyone comfortable even when I wasn't. How to make myself smaller so nobody felt threatened by my presence. How to dismiss my own instincts because making waves was worse than being wrong.

"That doesn't mean she's involved."

"Doesn't mean she isn't."

I turned back to the box, my hands shaking as I sorted through the remaining items. County fair programs. Rodeo entry forms. Photographs of cattle I didn't recognize and families whose names I'd heard all my life.

Nothing else was missing that I could tell. Just the pieces that would explain where the photograph came from. Who donated it. What it connected to.

"They didn't want to destroy the evidence," Morgan said. "They wanted to disconnect it. Make it untraceable."

"But they missed the photograph itself," I said.

"Because you'd already taken it."

Braxton’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen. “Torin checked the building log. Nobody signed into this room after you were here.”

“So whoever took those things didn’t want anyone knowing they came in.”