Luckily, once they’d flushed it out, Fred’s paw wasn’t as bad as they originally thought, so there was no need for further care. Just another shot of amoxicillin, and then he was back with his brother in their enclosure, snug together, sleeping off the effects of the anesthesia.

Rhett glanced at the clock, relieved that he had about thirty minutes before he was supposed to meet Nat, his dad, and Big Stan at the lodge for dinner. At least he had time for a shower. He was just about to head home when Kenny, one of the men who worked in the stables, came dashing into the clinic, red-faced and panting.

“Rhett,” he said. “Nat went out for a ride on Goliath two hours ago. Goliath just came back, scratched all to hell from branches, smelling like mineral water, but Nat’s not anywhere. I think he might have thrown her up near the springs.”

“Shit!” Rhett said, his heart seizing in his chest. Fear like he’d never known surged through him. Was she hurt somewhere in the forest? God, if anything really bad had happened to her…

“Run up to the lodge,” he ordered Kenny. “Get my dad and Nat’s father, Big Stan. Tell them what happened and tell them to come out to the stables. Get as many riders as we can from up at the lodge. We need to get everybody out on horseback to look for her.”

“On it,” Kenny said, dashing off.

His throat tight, Rhett bolted out of the clinic, pelting down the road toward the stables, his mind on one thing: getting out there and finding Nat.

I’m coming, he thought. I’m coming, love.

He’d already saddled Remus by the time his father and Big Stan arrived.

“Kenny’s rounding up more people,” Hank said, worry in his eyes. “I told him we’d take the north end. He’ll start parties in the three other directions.”

“Great,” Rhett said shortly, not able to say anything else around the tight ball of fear in his throat.

Big Stan was silent at first, his grim face expressing everything. He grabbed a saddle off the rack and growled, “We’ll find her.” Then he looked around impatiently. “Now give me a damn horse.”

They rode out together, all three breaching the rapidly darkening forest. Rhett’s mind was racing, his senses on high alert as they searched the forest, calling her name every few feet, their lanterns and flashlights illuminating the path.

“Do you think the horse threw her?” Hank asked.

“I don’t know,” Rhett said as pine needles brushed against the top of his head and he searched the weak light ahead for any sign of her. “She’s got the best seat on a horse I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s a goddamn prodigy on a horse,” Big Stan said, his voice still tense with the kind of worry and fear that only a father could have. Rhett wanted to say something to him, but he had no idea what could provide any comfort in this moment. Big Stan was a rancher—he understood the risks of riding, the consequences of an outdoor life.

No, he told himself. She’s fine. Maybe she bumped her head or broke her arm or something, but she’ll be fine. She’s just waiting for me to find her.

It began to rain, and soon the drops were pelting down on their heads as they called her name, trying to shout it over the noise. Rhett squinted through the downpour as they made their way closer to the property border. What was that white thing?

He scrambled off Remus, crashing through the forest’s underbrush, his flashlight beam moving wildly with him as his fingers closed around Nat’s sweater, tossed aside on the ground. A muddy boot-print—of a man’s boot—was stamped across the back.

His fingers clenched around the wool, the rain plastering his hair down his forehead. He looked out in front of him, realizing how close they were to Durbin’s property.

Durbin.

He had her. Rhett knew it. Without a word to either of the other men, he swung up into the saddle and charged forward, urging Remus into a full gallop as his father shouted his name behind him.

But he ignored them. Durbin had Nat.

And Rhett was going to tear the fucking world apart to get her back.