"Those are reporters at the gate?"

"I think so, waiting for people to come in and out. They'll hound them for questions. Like a frigging celebrity is in here or something."

Jess paced the room. Shaun wasn't back yet, the other officer that had relieved him had told her to go to bed and get some rest, which had pissed her off. Fat chance.

She joined her uncle and they stood at the front window, overlooking the driveway down to the gate, which, at the first sign of the news trucks, had been closed and chained. Now there was a gaggle of vans, some with big receiver tower poles sticking out the top like funny looking ostriches. She counted four, none with network logos she recognized. It wouldn't take long though. She expected CNN to get here soon, unless they were using an affiliate.

"Well it ain't done. I don't like it. We need privacy, not this circus."

Jess patted her uncle on the shoulder and turned away from the window, glancing at the officer who was sitting at the kitchen table, poking at his phone. The clock ticked over to midnight, and she again looked out the window, watching for truck lights.

She wanted to say that she wasn't looking for Shaun in particular, but when he had left, she had definitely not felt as safe. Perhaps because she'd become more familiar with him it was easier to talk to him, even though she wasn't fond of strangers in her house. Funnily enough, Shaun hadn't felt like a stranger. Maybe because it turned out he knew his way around horses, could ride decently enough, and seemed at ease with her aunt and uncle, discussing plans with uncle like they'd known each other for years.

"Jesus, Jess. Get your shit together," she whispered to herself, plopping onto the couch and rubbing her eyes. She admittedly was tired, but sleep would likely not be on the agenda. Too much had happened.

The whirlwind of the past day was still careening around in her head. The picture of her mother wouldn't leave her head. It was an unflattering photo, but it was the only image of her that she had, and it was unsettling. What she had expected, she couldn't say, because she'd always pictured her mother as a female version of her uncle. That picture had said otherwise. Skinny-faced and tired eyes stared back. Thinning, scraped-back hair had removed any softness. A stranger. Nothing like the pictures of her as a child that she'd seen once in some old albums.

She'd asked her uncle for the full story, but not long after Shaun had left, her aunt had needed to lie down, all of it hitting her like a ton of bricks. Jess had fussed over her, tucking her into bed and her uncle wouldn't talk about it without her there, so they were at an impasse.

She wondered why she wasn't more mad about her aunt and uncle lying to her than she was. That she could not understand. She was mad, yes, but it wasn't something she was dwelling on, or wanting to rail against. She'd not yelled, or slammed any doors, or done the usual temper tantrum when shit like this happened. Perhaps the shock of it all was giving her pause. She wasn't sure.

But, she surmised, she'd been here a long time now. She knew her aunt and uncle had their reasons, and they would tell her in good time. They'd been nothing but supportive and loving to her and that hadn't stopped.

So as Shaun had pulled away in his truck, and she had turned back to the house, she decided she could be mad later, when this was all wrapped up, and set the anger aside, stuffing it down and focusing on the chore lists her uncle was drawing up.

Everyone startled as tires crunched on the gravel out front of the house, her heart flipping as a door slammed. The officer, his name was Jenkins or Jinkins or something, got up with his hand atop his gun, and went for the door. "Who is it?" he barked when bootsteps were on the front veranda.

"For Pete's sake Jenkins, it's me," came a muffled reply, and the officer opened the door to Shaun, coffee on a tray tucked under his chin, an overnight bag on his shoulder.

A wave of relief flooded her, and she lifted the coffees out of his hands so he could get in the door. The local diner stamp was on the side of the cups, and she inhaled the familiar scent. Then, she caught his eye over the top of the cups, and he smiled at her, giving her goosebumps on top of the heart flip.

"Thanks," he breathed and then dropped his duffel beside the bench. "All good out here? That was a crazy mess to drive through. We need a uniform at the gate."

Jenkins nodded. "I'll radio in. Want me to stay? I can patrol or—"

Jess watched Shaun look the other officer over with a thinly veiled tolerance as he slid a coffee out of the tray and handed it to him. "Nah. Go get some sleep. They'll need to rotate you in tomorrow."

The two officers shouldered out the door, likely to talk strategy. They chatted briefly out of hearing, and Jess watched them from the window. Both were tall, good-looking men. Jenkins in his full uniform complete with vest, and Shaun, now in plain clothes, a bit less puffed out than he was before, in his uniform. He was fit, from the look of his forearms and flat stomach. She appreciated his wide shoulders, the way his jeans hit his hips just right, the leather boots on his feet serviceable, with a heel. He'd obviously had a shower, and his dark hair flopped over his forehead, instead of being combed back under his Stetson.

She tried in vain not to think thoughts she shouldn't. He was hot, and he didn't scream "cop" anymore, which made it easier to reconcile him to a real person, oddly.

"Stop it, you friggin' fool," She hissed and forced herself away from the door. She turned back when Shaun came in, his police radio in his hand.

"Need to keep it on. In case. Is there a good spot to put it so it won't keep your aunt and uncle up?"

Jess pointed to the kitchen. "There's an outlet behind the blender."

He nodded and strode into the kitchen, and she heard the staccato as he adjusted the dial. He radioed in that he was at the farm, the time, and that Jenkins was leaving. She wandered back to the living room, sat back down on the couch, leaned back, and closed her eyes.

His boots clunked into the living room, and she heard a whuff as his duffel plopped down by the easy chair. She waited for the springs in it to shift as he lowered himself, and a massive sigh echoed out from him as they did. She didn't open her eyes.

"Can we do anything about the vultures at the gate?" she asked, finally creaking one eye open to look at him. He had a coffee three-quarters of the way to his mouth, his eyes swiveled up to her as her question.

"Have they been trying to get onto the land?"

"Not yet," came the reply from her uncle, who moved away from the window and took the chair opposite the fireplace. He picked at his fingers, looking into the empty hearth, the echo of a thousand thoughts pouring through his expression.

"Uncle—" Jess started, but stopped. He was exhausted and emotionally bankrupt. Should she push for the story now? In front of Shaun?

"Jess, child, I know," he sighed. "We've done wrong by you, not telling you. I'm sorry. So sorry you cannot imagine."

Jess' heart ripped, or at least she figured that was what it would feel like, and she got up and crouched down to see into his face. He was leaned forward, his arms braced on his thighs, hands dangling lifelessly between them. This man, the strong, no-guff, rough rancher was defeated. It was a new thing to see, and it worried her. Even when a calving went wrong, or they had to put down a horse, he never cracked like this.

But this was not the loss of a ranch animal. This was something much, much worse. This was her mother, his sister. Their kin.

"You had your reasons," she murmured, placing a hand on his. "Go to bed, uncle. Sunshine will keep the cameras at bay, Shaun is here. There is nothing more we can do until first light. When all this is over, you can tell me."

Her uncle looked up at Shaun, and she knew they were talking silently, with those looks men gave each other when they were calculating how to save the day and be heroes. She'd seen many of those looks from her time on the circuit, right before the chute opened and the bull twisted out, its rider frantically spurring on.

Men.

"It's fine, Kevin. I'll stay up with her. I doubt she'll sleep tonight."

Jess swiveled to look at Shaun, who was studiously averting his eyes now, a coffee at his lips the moment he'd said it. It seemed to do the trick, and her uncle rose, pulling Jess up with him.

"Alright. Jess, you should be sleepin' too. No sense in us all bein' addled. We've got chores, and we've got heifers to move to the front pasture in the morning, get some bales out in case we get busy next day or two. May as well give Sunshine something to do while he's guarding the gate, eh? We've not live bred him at all this year. He'd like that."

Jess scoffed at that and nodded. "Yeah. Go to bed, Uncle."

With a final pat on her shoulder, her uncle moved wearily off towards the stairs. He turned right before he left the living room and gave her the same look she saw him give Shaun.

"We'll fix this, Jess. I promise."