Back at the ranch, I pull out my phone and text Finn and Zach to check the remote cameras on the north trail and the back gate. I tell them there have been trucks near other spreads. I keep it simple. They do not need to know how close it feels. Not yet. Finn sends a thumbs up and a picture of a salt block he is dropping in the west pasture. It’s as if he knows I need to see something normal. Zach replies with a question about whether I have eaten. I answer yes because I did eat half a cold casserole at nine, and that counts.
By midafternoon, I go into the tack room and pull down a pair of trail cams I keep for coyotes and the occasional two-legged problem. After checking the batteries, I walk the line of cottonwoods, placing them where the road narrows and where a man would step through if he didn’t want to be seen. I set one to catch plate frames, and another higher to catch faces. The green lights blink once to tell me they are working.
Cade pulls in as I get back to the barn. He hands me some photos of what he saw today. It looks like some software cleared up the blurriness from earlier.
"Ben called me," he says. "He is pulling the strings he can without making noise. He told us to keep our eyes open for any pallets of pipe or drums tucked behind outbuildings that do not belong to the folks who live there. They’re staging somewhereclose. They move them like chess on a board. One move at a time."
"Thanks," I say. "You run into anyone you know on that side road?"
"Only the Widow Turner in her Buick," he says. "She waved as if we were at church and then told me to tell your mother the church raffle needs more pies. So that’s one corner of the world that’s still the same."
"Good," I answer, and I mean it. "You hungry?"
He shakes his head. "I need to get back and check a colt with a hot knee, but I wanted you to see the pictures, though I didn't want them anywhere that could be traced. They are getting bold, which means they think they are close to something. If we keep the light on them, that also means they will make mistakes."
"We’ll keep watching," I say. "Thanks, Cade."
For a second, we stand there in the shade of the cottonwood and listen to the leaves talk. Then he claps my shoulder and goes. His taillights throw red into the dust plume, and then the road takes him.
Waiting until the air settles, I then go inside. I add to the list I’ve been keeping since Kassi told me what she heard. Names. Dates. Phrases. The bracelet the man with the gray tie wore. The waythe third man looked down the road twice before he waved. I tuck it under the certificates and put it in a box in my closet.
Needing to talk, I call North. He answers from his barn, and I hear a horse stamping. It immediately steadies me.
"You got a minute?" I ask.
"For you, always," he says. "What do you need?"
I tell him as much as he needs to know. That there have been trucks near lines that do not belong to them. I have seen flags where flags don’t belong. That I am setting cameras and tightening gates, and I would be obliged if he kept his eyes open after dark and before dawn. He listens the way he always does, no interruptions, no noise, just the click of his mind as he stacks the blocks in a shape that will stand.
"Consider it done," he says. "I’ll drive the back loop twice, and I’ll have Dash do the same on his side. I’ll make sure that Sky keeps the trailer backed up to the barn and ready to move. Not because we will need it, but because readiness is a prayer."
"Thank you," I say. "And North?"
"Yeah," he answers.
"Kassi and Emma," I start, and then I stop because I don’t want to say too much. "Please keep an eye on them, as I don't want to worry them."
"Understood," he says. He doesn’t ask for details, which is why I called him.
When we hang up, I finally breathe. Then I call Ben again. He picks up on the second ring and says my name like he was about to call me.
"I got a hit," he says before I can speak. "A shell company filed a utilities inquiry for temporary service behind the old mill. That space is big enough to stage equipment without anyone seeing from the main road. I’m going to drive by and park in front of the bait shop for a minute. If I angle my mirror, I think I can see the back lot from there."
"Careful," I warn.
"I always am," he answers. "If this checks out, we can ask the city to require a temporary use permit. That pulls them into the open."
"Good. "I’ll keep my side tight."
He pauses. "You tell Kassi?"
I look at the pasture again. It throws the sun back in small, hard chips. "Not yet."
"She can handle the truth," he says, gentle but firm.
"I know," I answer. "I’m not hiding it. Just choosing my time. Tonight, I’ll build the plan, and tomorrow, I'll give it to her with the fear softened. She has carried enough."
"That’s fair," he says. "Call if you need company for any of this."