Chapter 4: Chapter 4: The Ranger

The old McCallister gate is rusted shut with a padlock that's older than me. Granddaddy's key turns in the lock with a groan that sounds like forty years of regret. I push the gate open and walk onto McCallister land. The grass is different here. Taller, thicker, greener than ours. A spring-fed creek runs through the center of the property, feeding two stock tanks that are still full despite the drought. I find him in the calving barn. He's got his arm inside a cow. "Little busy," he says without looking up. "I can see that." The cow moans. Cash mutters something under his breath, and then his whole body tenses. "Come here. I need you to hold her head." I don't think. I just move. I grab the cow's halter and hold her steady while Cash does something that's either veterinary magic or ranch juju—thirty seconds later, there's a calf on the barn floor, wet and blinking and alive. Cash sits back on his heels, covered in things I don't want to identify, and looks at the calf with an expression I haven't seen on his face before. Pride. Quiet, exhausted pride. Then he looks at me. Cash McCallister is six foot two, dark hair a little too long, green eyes, stubbled jaw that belongs on a cologne commercial, and the kind of build that says he spends his free time wrestling cattle or lifting trucks. He's wearing a gray t-shirt that's seen better days and boots with actual mud on them. He is, objectively, the most attractive man I have ever seen in my life. Which is inconvenient, because he's also looking at me like I'm a rattlesnake in his henhouse. "Who the hell are you?" "Sutton Cooper." His expression doesn't change, but something shifts behind his eyes.…