Page 43 of Knotting the Cowboys

"Perimeter's clear. No signs of trouble."

The way he says it suggests he always checks, every morning, like danger might manifest overnight.

I wonder what made him this vigilant, what threats he's protecting against.

Or who.

"So," I venture, settling at the table where I can see all of them. "The fire last night?"

They exchange those weighted looks again, whole conversations in glances I can't decode.

"Rosie's Diner," River explains, taking the seat across from me. "Kitchen fire that spread faster than it should have. We got it contained before major damage, but..."

"But?"

"Accelerant," Mavi says bluntly. "Someone wanted that place to burn."

My coffee turns bitter on my tongue.

"Arson? Here?"

"Small towns aren't immune to crime," Cole says, joining us at the table. His hair's still damp with sweat from wood-splitting, and I force my eyes away from how it darkens his collar. "Sometimes they're worse. Everybody knowing everybody's business creates... friction."

"The new chief's investigating," Austin adds, bouncing Luna when she starts to fuss. "She's good. Came from Denver, doesn't have any local biases to work around."

"She?" I ask, surprised.

Female police chiefs in small towns aren't exactly common.

"Hazel Martinez," River supplies. "Tough as nails, fair as they come. She's already ruffling feathers by actually investigating instead of sweeping things under the rug."

"Which some people don't appreciate," Mavi mutters. "Lot of folks liked the old way. Look the other direction, keep the peace, don't ask hard questions."

I think of Harold at the hotel, his immediate dismissal of me. Of the looks that followed me through town.

"And now someone's setting fires?"

"Could be unrelated," Cole says, but his tone suggests otherwise. "Could be someone testing boundaries, seeing what they can get away with. Either way, we'll handle it."

The casual confidence in that statement should worry me.

Four men appointing themselves protectors of a town that may not want protection.

But all I feel is relief that someone's paying attention.

"Emergency services response time is twelve minutes from the county station," Austin explains. "Would've lost the whole building waiting for them. That's why folks call us first."

"And Station Fahrenheit 49?" I remember them mentioning it yesterday.

"New volunteer fire station being built on the old Mackey property," River says. "Should be operational by spring, but for now, we're the stopgap."

"Convenient," Mavi observes, voice dry as dust. "Fire breaks out just when the town's most vulnerable. Makes you wonder who benefits from the chaos."

"Mavi sees conspiracies everywhere," Austin says lightly, but there's acknowledgment in it too. Sometimes paranoia is just pattern recognition.

"Point is," Cole redirects, "we may have more late-night calls. If you're not comfortable being here alone?—"

"I'm fine," I interrupt, surprising myself with the firmness. "I've been alone a long time. At least here I have neighbors to call."

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