Page 82 of Adam's Rising

They fell quiet again.

Claire glanced down at her cast. “You know what the worst part of all this is?”

Adam looked at her. “What?”

“I keep thinking of things I want to do and then remember I can’t. Not yet.”

He leaned closer. “What kind of things?”

She smirked. “Ride. Climb. Run away with you.”

Adam’s breath caught. “You don’t have to run, Claire.”

She reached for his hand. “I’m not running. I’m choosing.”

He kissed her then, slow and steady, with no urgency — just the kind of kiss that made a girl believe in fairy tales again.

In the field, Buttercup nickered softly, as if giving her approval.

22

The next morning, Adam rolled out of bed to a gut feeling he couldn’t shake. Something was wrong. He dressed quickly, not bothering with breakfast, and stepped outside into the early morning chill.

Bolt was already at the gate, pawing the wood chips like he sensed it, too.

Rusty stood near the barn door, arms folded. “Peter didn’t show up for morning feed,” he said. “I haven’t asked much of him. A few chores in the morning, a few in the afternoon. Nothing more than a parent might ask a child.”

Adam frowned. “That’s not like him. He’s been doing well, right?”

“Yep. But we’re also missing two bales of hay from the southern stack.”

Adam scanned the horizon, jaw tight. “You think someone was here?”

“I think someone never left. I don’t know. Maybe one of Brett’s crew is messing with us. He landed just over the hill, in Palmer. The rancher don’t care much for Clara Mae, so he probably believed whatever rhetoric Brett spouted off. Not like Clara Mae’s gonna tell him otherwise. She probably hopes Brett’ll take him for all he took her for.”

Claire joined them a moment later, limping slightly on crutches but otherwise okay. “I didn’t sleep well,” she admitted. “Had the strangest dream. Felt like someone was watching me.”

Rusty’s eyes narrowed. “Gut’s been off all morning.”

Adam motioned for them to wait. He jogged toward the tree line. About thirty feet in, he crouched low. Fresh tracks — too heavy for Peter, and definitely not Clara Mae’s boots.

He followed the prints until he found a cigarette butt, still fresh.

No one smoked on Clara Mae’s ranch. Even the new hands had heard about the cattle prod incident. If they needed nicotine to get through the day, Adam suggested dip. He couldn’t stand watching the guys chew tobacco, but for many, nicotine was a harder addiction to break than alcohol.

A partial boot print smeared the dirt beside the butt, pointing toward the back trail that led to the main road.

He turned back, fury building. “Someone was watching. And they weren’t just out for a stroll.”

Rusty met his eyes. “You think it’s connected to Claire’s kidnapping?”

Adam didn’t answer right away. “I think it never ended.”

Claire reached for his arm. “Be careful, Adam?”

He glanced toward the ridge. “I will. But I intend to find out who it is. And make sure they never come near you again.”

Behind them, the ranch felt still, but the air carried a charge. The kind of hush right before a storm.

---