Dash was riding out with Mac on Monday morning, checking fences again. The plan for the next few days was for him to work outside in the mornings with Mac then handle the office tasks in the afternoon. To Dash’s mind, it sounded like the ideal combination. Ever since his ride with Carmen yesterday he’d had that weird, prickling feeling at the back of his neck—even today, out on the trail with Mac. “Not since Grant Fallon went to prison for shooting both Leah and J—our—oh hell, I still can’t comfortably call him our father.” Mac shook his head in disgust. “Me either,” Dash agreed. “And it’s probably just me being twitchy, but have you gotten the feeling lately that there’s somebody out here, watching us?” Mac paused, his head tilted slightly to one side as he thought. Slowly, he nodded. “Not before, but today? Yeah, a little.” “I rode out yesterday with Carmen Whitefeather. She let me go with her to help release that injured eagle I found,” Dash added hurriedly when Mac cast him a funny look.
