"Can I brush her?" Emma asks.
"You can," Asher says. "We’ll go slowly."
He hands her the soft brush and pulls up a wooden step stool, helping her up on it. His big hand wraps around her smaller one, guiding each stroke. Midnight lowers her head and sighs, apparently approving. The sound makes Emma giggle. Then it’s her turn to try on her own. She is careful and proud of herself. Watching her, I feel my throat go tight.
After she's done brushing, she looks around the barn. When a barn cat slips out from under the fence, Emma's attention turns toward it, quick as a bird catching sunlight. Kneeling in the grass, she holds out her hand. The cat, being a cat, pretends it is not interested and then rubs along her shins anyway. Emma looks up at me, eyes shining. "She likes me too."
"Animals know good hearts," Asher says, and the way he says it makes my chest ache.
The town horse Phantom appears at the barn doors and moves with that quiet certainty I am starting to recognize. I recognize him from the photos in the diner and know so much about him from Austin.
He stands there watching Emma, who has picked up the brush and is brushing Midnight down again. Emma notices and stands, hands on her hips, very important. "Hi," she tells him. "I am brushing my new friend. You can have a turn if you want."
Asher laughs under his breath. "He might take you up on that."
"Can I, Mama?" Emma asks.
"If Phantom says yes," I tell her. "Ask him like you did Midnight."
Emma walks to the fence. Phantom lowers his head until they are nose to nose. Emma whispers something I cannot hear. Whatever she says, he flicks an ear and stays right there. After Asher brings the brush, Emma reaches up, and Phantom leans down like he understands he needs to make himself smaller for her. They find a rhythm. Emma hums a made-up song, and the cat curls at her feet as though she runs the entire barn.
I should feel lighter than I do. I should sink into this peace and let it wash everything else away. Instead, the weight I have been carrying presses harder because I am running out of places to hide it.
Asher comes to stand beside me, close enough that his sleeve brushes my arm. He watches Emma for a long moment, his profile soft. When he looks at me, the softness shifts. He doesn’t say anything—he doesn’t have to. The question in his eyes pulls the truth up my throat like a tide.
Even though I try to swallow it back, and give him a smile that says I’m fine, he lifts one brow the smallest degree. Then he waits.
The words slip out before I can stop them. "I heard something at work."
His attention sharpens. But he does not move closer, nor does he look away. "Okay."
"I wasn't supposed to be there. I went in to catch up on reports." My voice is steady until it is not. "They were in the conference room. Talking low. I should have kept walking." I shake my head. "But I didn't."
He nods once. "What did you hear?"
"They were talking about drilling," I say, and the syllables feel like rocks. "On your land. They said Silver Cattle specifically. That they would call it soil testing until they had what they needed. My boss told them to stick to the script." I force myself to keep going because if I stop, I will not start again. "I almost got caught. So, I hid in the supply closet. I could hear their footsteps on the tile."
He goes so still I can hear the wind lift across the grass. His jaw works once. His hands are open at his sides like he is reminding himself not to clench them. He looks toward Emma, then back at me. When he speaks, his voice is quiet and even. "Did they say when?"
"No." My fingers curl into the hem of my shirt. "Just something about permits and that they would move fast once the rig came. They laughed. Like it was nothing. Like this place was a square on a game board."
He exhales through his nose. It is not quite a sigh. "Did you recognize anyone besides your boss?"
"Two of the investors who have been in and out this week. The one with the gray tie and the one who never looks at anyone when he talks. I can give you names." I swallow. "I wrote everything down when I got home so I wouldn’t forget the exact words. It felt important not to change them in my head."
His eyes soften in a way that is fiercer than anger. "Good."
"I should have told you sooner," I say, the apology rushing out hot and clumsy. "I didn't know how. I didn't want you to look at me and see them—or to be the reason everything gets worse."
He steps closer, crossing a line that never should’ve been there to begin with. Then he reaches up and touches the side of my face with the back of his fingers, carefully, like I am a skittish thing.
"Look at me."
I do.
"You are not them," he says. "You are the reason I know what they are planning."
Tears sting, and I blink hard because I do not want Emma to turn and see me crying and think something is wrong. "I’m scared."