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The lead vehicle was a familiar black SUV. Behind it came a heavy-duty pickup, then another, hauling trailers behind them—stock trailers, horse trailers, and one long gooseneck she couldn’t identify at this distance. More trucks followed beyond those.

Watchdog. My people are here.

“Oh, thank God,” Willow breathed.

Jodie almost said the same thing. Instead she looked back at the pens.

Twenty loads.

Don’t start crying. You don’t have time.

The convoy rolled into the staging area and spread out along the east fence. Drivers got out. Familiar faces appeared through the haze. Bear. Waylon. Ben. Charlie. Shane. Colin.

Kyle got out of the black SUV. He spotted her almost immediately and headed straight toward the table. Jodie’s stomach dropped.

We need to talk when you get back.

Jodie braced herself.

Kyle stopped in front of her, took one look at the papers, radios, pens, and smoke, and said, “Tell me where you need us.”

Relief hit so hard she almost laughed.

Not now.

Jodie handed him a clipboard. “Harold and Dana are coordinating the actual horse movement. Nobody loads anything until they assign it. I just pray they don’t make this a territory thing.”

Kyle nodded. “Noted.”

“So once you get permission, I need every trailer numbered, every driver assigned, and I need to know what each rig can actually haul before BLM starts matching horses to loads.”

Kyle glanced down at the board. “Copy that.” He turned toward the people unloading from the convoy and started assigning drivers to rigs before even talking to Harold or Dana.

Yup, that’s my boss.

Relief loosened another knot in Jodie’s chest.

And my people.

Harold kept talking. “Nobody leaves on their own. We’re coordinating animal movement with county and incident command. If you’ve been assigned a job, stay on it until you’re reassigned.”

His gaze landed on the Watchdog convoy, then on Kyle, who was already sending people toward trailers.

“You in charge of this outfit?” He gestured at the trucks and trailers.

Kyle turned. “Affirmative. Kyle McGuire, Watchdog Security.” Kyle started to extend his hand. Harold didn’t take it.

“Make sure your people understand nobody touches a single horse without BLM authorization.”

Jodie closed her eyes for half a second.

Here we go.

Kyle didn’t bristle, which somehow made him look more dangerous. “Wasn’t planning on stealing your horses.”

Harold’s mouth tightened. “This is a federal gather site, not one of your security operations.”

“And I’m not trying to run it.” Kyle glanced toward the holding pens, where the wind sent the whole herd shifting behind the panels. “Mac called because you needed trucks, trailers, and drivers. I brought trucks, trailers, and drivers.”