Patience. Silence. Purpose. The mantra had kept Rory Scott alive while tracking some of the most ruthless poachers in the country. Belly crawling toward a makeshift campsite on the Hereford Ranch in Cattle Barge, Texas, he adjusted his night-vision goggles to gain a better view and evaluate the situation.
A two-person tent was set up twenty-five feet ahead and slightly to his left. It looked expensive, like it was from one of those stores in the city that overcharged for basic camping supplies, promising to guard people from the elements or turn desk jockeys into outdoorsmen with the right backpack.
A campfire was spitting blue-and-yellow embers into the frigid night air not ten feet away from a brown-and-beige pop-up tent. The light coming from the blaze would be a beacon to anyone who might be traveling in the area. Of course, this was private property so there shouldn’t have been anyone around. The Hereford Ranch was one of the rare few in Texas that was successful enough selling cattle that the owners weren’t forced to lease parts of the land for hunting. The land and mineral rights were owned by one of the wealthiest families in the state, the Butlers. Rory had personal knowledge that no one had been given permission to be there. This campsite was a trespassing violation at the very least, possibly more.
A law meant to crack down on illegal hunting made it a felony offense to poach on someone’s land. And that sifted out the less-experienced thrill-seekers. The pros upped the ante, which also made them more dangerous than ever. Rory didn’t mind putting his life on the line for a good cause since he didn’t doubt his skills and could net a bigger paycheck because of the increased risk. Besides, he had no one at home waiting for him to return and that was the way he liked living life.
This campsite looked set up for a romantic rendezvous but Rory had too much experience to take anything at face value. He wouldn’t put anything past a skilled poacher. This whole scenario could be cover for a scout, someone who fed information to poachers.
Surveying the perimeter, Rory located a small bag of trash tied to a tree roughly ten yards away from the campsite. Every experienced outdoorsman knew to hang his trash far away from his campsite or risk attracting dangerous wildlife searching for an easy meal. By contrast, most didn’t shop at those overpriced stores.
Rory took a breath of fresh Texas air in his lungs. He’d been working on a ranch in Wyoming for the past five months while trying to keep his thoughts away from the woman he’d walked away from. Time was supposed to give perspective. He sighed sharply. Clearly, it would take more than five months to rid his mind of Cadence Butler.
When her brother Dade had called to say he needed the best tracker, Rory wasted no time getting on the road.
Of course, the Butlers didn’t know he was coming. He’d refused the job with his friends because it was best that no one—and that included the Butler family—knew he’d be on-site. Not just because of his past relationship with Cadence. Relationship? That was probably a strong word. More like history. It was their history that had caused him to momentarily lose his grip on reality by spending one too many nights with the off-limits heiress. Keeping the family, and everyone else, in the dark would give him the element of surprise. If one of the Butlers knew he was coming, word could get out.
Dade wouldn’t have called if he’d known about the fling. Rory and Cadence had kept their relationship on the quiet side, or so he had thought until her father confronted him. The charismatic Maverick Mike Butler had been right about one thing: Rory had no business seeing the man’s daughter. She was out of his league and Cadence would never survive his lifestyle of living on the range, being constantly on the go.
The thought of settling into one spot made Rory’s collar shrink. He had a cabin built for one in Texas near Cattle Barge that he called home. One was his lucky number.
No matter what else, it was best that the Butlers had no idea he’d be around. One slip would cause word to get out, since a small family-oriented place like Cattle Barge wasn’t known for being able to keep a secret. Hell, the town’s business had been plastered across every newspaper for months ever since Maverick Mike Butler’s murder last summer, which Rory was truly sorry for when he’d found out about it. Mr. Butler had given Rory a job when he was lost and alone at fifteen years old. Rory had kept his life on the straight and narrow because of the opportunity he’d been given and he would go to his own grave grateful for the hand up when he’d been down on his luck and searching for a steady place to land. Rory had never minded hard work, and Mr. Butler’s only caveat for keeping his job had been that Rory finish high school.
He had, and his boss had attended his graduation. He’d patted Rory on the back and told him he was proud of him.
Granted, the man didn’t like Rory having anything to do with Cadence. But Rory couldn’t blame a father for wanting to protect his daughter. Maverick Mike seemed to know on instinct the same fact Rory had surmised early on—that he’d only cause Cadence heartache.
Even though her father had had harsh words for him, Rory respected the man who’d grown up a sharecropper’s son but made good on his life.
His heart went out to the family for their loss and his thoughts often wound to Cadence in the months since, wondering how she was handling the news.
Being in Cattle Barge and thinking about the past caused memories of his parents’ volatile marriage to resurface. Heavy weights bore down on his shoulders and it was doing nothing to improve his sour mood.
To make matters worse, Christmas was around the corner. He’d lost touch with his sister, Renee, who was the only other sane person in the family. She’d split at seventeen years old, and then he took off shortly after. The holidays made him think about her, wonder where she was now and if she was happy.
Rory shook off the emotions wrapping a heavy blanket around him. No good ever came of thinking about his family or the empty holiday he faced being alone. He reminded himself that it was his choice to be by himself. He had no use for distractions.
He performed a mental headshake in hopes of clearing his mind. Surveying the campsite again, he skimmed the area for signs of people. It was cold tonight and he doubted the warmth from the fire would be enough. A piece of material meant to secure the tent flapped with the wind. Inside, it was empty.
Rory rolled a few times on the cold earth. His movement stealth-like and with purpose. This vantage point allowed him a better view inside the small tent. There were two sleeping bags that had been placed next to each other inside.
Being back on Butler land made him think about the time he and Cadence had stayed up all night talking in her father’s barn. It was the first time he realized his feelings were careening out of control. Because staying up all night with a woman to talk had never held a lot of appeal before her. Cadence was the perfect mix of intelligence, sass and sense of humor. She was always on the go and sometimes acted before she thought something through, but her heart was always in the right place. His chest clutched while he thought about her. He needed to stop himself right there. That was the past. She was the past. The best way to end up thrown from his horse was to keep looking backward.
Besides, nothing could be changed and he’d only end up with a crick in his neck.
A log crackled, sending another round of burning embers into the air. Rory hoped like hell the couple who’d lit it didn’t have plans to go to sleep with the blaze still going, if there was a couple. There was no accounting for lack of skill and knowledge. If this was a situation with inexperienced campers they might not even realize they’d set up on private property. A place as massive as Hereford was impossible to cordon off completely from the outside world, even though security would be tighter following Mr. Butler’s murder.
Rory changed position again, moving stealthily along the tree line near the lake. He crouched behind the trunk of a mesquite tree, watching, waiting. A blast of frigid air penetrated straight through his winter jacket. It