The Rancher

by Julia Justiss

  She’d also, she noted when she checked the time on her cell phone after climbing back up to the dry area where she’d parked the truck, once again missed lunch and an opportunity to return to the ranch for some rest.

  Sighing, she trudged up to the high point on the ridge above where the truck was parked, turned on her map app to set a pin marking her GPS location, then sent it to Duncan in a text asking him to meet her where she was currently parked. The nearest new baby calf wasn’t far away, and they could leave to find it from this spot.

  She walked back down to the truck and clambered up onto the tailgate, intending to drink a bottle of water—she’d learned from the previous days and now carried a case of water with her—and stretch out in the sun, hopefully drying off her wet jeans and jacket enough that she could brush off some of the mud. Her leather gloves were hopeless—she’d just have to use them soggy for the rest of the day, as they’d need at least an overnight to dry. She made a mental note in the future to carry extra gloves too.

  She had just settled back and leaned her face up into the mild April sun where she heard the frantic bawl of a cow, repeated almost at once, louder and at a panicked pitch.

  She hopped down, anxiety flashing through her. A mama cow must be in trouble somewhere over the ridgeline.

  She hoped the difficulty was as simple as the cow having snagged herself on some barbed wire. Though she carried calving chains in the truck, she’d never been present when Daddy had to use them and wouldn’t think of attempting to use them on her own.

  Praying whatever was causing the distress would be an easy fix, Harrison ran back up to the top of the ridge, texted Duncan in all-caps to HURRY, and took off in the direction of the bawling cow.

  She might not be able to help with calving difficulties, but she could at least assess what was wrong, correct what she could, and be able to describe the situation to Duncan when he arrived.

  They hadn’t lost a mama or a calf this spring. She didn’t want to start now.

  The cow continued bawling, the sound growing in intensity as Harrison jogged closer. Over the ridge, down along a rocky trail, she found a break in the fence, burst through it and down into a clearing—and stopped dead.

  A mama cow was struggling to remain standing, lurching from one direction to another as she struck out with her legs at the three coyotes who were circling her. The mama must be about to calf, weakened and awkward—otherwise the predators wouldn’t have tried to corner her.

  And there Harrison stood, without even a tree branch to drive them off.

  Never had she so bitterly regretted her lack of expertise with a firearm. If she’d had one, she’d have used it, even at the risk of blowing off her foot.

  Her brain raced as she tried to remember other ways Duncan had told her a rancher could drive off coyotes. She didn’t want them turning from the cow to attack her, but she sure didn’t want them harming her mama either.

  Anger rose along with her fear. Daddy had worked hard to birth every cow on this ranch, and she’d be damned if she was going to let interloper coyotes get any of them.

  Sound big . . . look scary, she remembered. Dropping to her knees, she grabbed a handful of stones and started flinging them at the coyotes, shrieking at them like a demented banshee.

  Startled, the animals pulled back and turned in her direction—which gave the struggling cow a chance to kick the nearest one in the head. Praying it would be enough, Harrison continued to wave her arms and hurl a barrage of rocks in their direction while screaming abuse at the top of her lungs.

  It took a few more heart-stopping moments—and another accurate kick by the cow into the shoulder of a second coyote—but to her infinite relief, the three predators turned and ran up and over the ridge to the east, then disappeared from sight. The whole episode probably lasted barely more than a minute.

  Light-headed with the adrenaline coursing through her, Harrison staggered back to brace herself against a large rock just as Duncan came barreling down the trail behind her.

  “Harrison, are you all right?” he demanded, skidding to a stop beside her. “I heard you screaming and I thought—I don’t even want to think what I thought.”

  “I’m okay. I’m fine.” Her lips starting to tremble now in the aftermath of shock, she gasped out, “Coyotes. Attacking the cow. I . . . threw rocks. Chased them off. Cow’s about to calf. I think.”

  Duncan spared a quick glance at the cow, who had laid down, apparently ready to get on with the business, before looking back at her. “Looks like it. I’ll check her in a minute. Sure you’re okay?”

  “S-sure,” she insisted, though the pesky trembling was now expanding from her lips to attack her limbs.

  Something flared in Duncan’s eyes. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said, pulling her, unresisting, into his arms. “I’m here now. You’re safe.”

  For several long minutes, Harrison laid her head on Duncan’s shoulder and let him hold her, luxuriating in being able to share the weight of the burdens she carried. A wave of emotion had her eyes sheening with tears as she realized how much she missed being important to someone, having someone she could depend on to care about and protect her.

  Don’t let yourself crave this. But despite those cautioning words, she allowed herself another long moment to remain encircled by his arms, drinking in the heat and strength of him. Finally, reluctantly, she pushed against his chest.

  Though he loosened his grip, allowing her to move away, he kept a steadying hand at her waist. “Take it easy, now.”

  “Thanks. You can let me go. I think I’m okay. Or at least, I don’t think I’m going to collapse at your feet.”

  He nodded, but kept his hand at her waist, a fierce intensity in his gaze. “What happened?”

  Harrison related the sequence of events, Duncan nodding in encouragement. “Sounds like you did just what you should have. Coyotes don’t usually try to take on humans, though they might have chased you if you’d tried to run. But likely they were more interested in getting the mama and her calf. Short of firing a pistol at them, a barrage of rocks was the next best thing. Bravo, Cowgirl. I think you’re a real rancher now.”

  His praise warmed her almost as much as the strength of his embrace. “Thanks. I just couldn’t stand by and let them hurt one of Daddy’s cows. Now, you better go see how she’s doing. I’ve got calving chains in my truck, but I’ve never used them.”

  “Hopefully we won’t need them. Sure you’re okay?”

  When she nodded, he said, “Have a seat on this rock. I’ll check her, but from what I can see from here, I think she’s doing fine.”

  Duncan walked up to the laboring cow and gave her a quick exam, then nodded to Harrison. “She’s progressing just as she should. An experienced mama, by the looks of her. By the time we go back to the truck and get our tagging gear, our new little arrival ought to be ready and waiting for us.”

  When he walked back to her, holding out a hand to take hers, she waved him off. “You might want to keep your distance. I’ve already gotten enough mud on your shirt.”

  He took her hand anyway. “You might get light-headed again. Don’t want you falling. Roll down this rocky hill, and I’m not sure I have enough bandages and tape to patch you back up.”

  “When you put it that way . . . I’m not much interested in playing Humpty Dumpty either.” Grateful for his assistance—in truth, she was still a little light-headed—Harrison climbed with him back to the property line.

  His gaze narrowed as they reached the break in the fence. “I’ll take a closer look at that after we take care of baby. We’ll also need to herd the two of them back onto your land. But first, let’s get the gear. And by the way, why are you so muddy? I’d have thought it a bit early for a dip in the ol’ swimmin’ hole.”

  As they walked back to the truck, Harrison described the brush snarl she’d cleared from the stream, pointing out the location as they approached her truck. She was pleased to note most of the pooled water had beg
un to disperse.

  Duncan frowned again as he looked at the site but made no comment, instead going about pulling the tagging gear out of the storage compartments in the back of the pickup and setting them on the tailgate. Before she could fetch her book and the tape, Duncan turned to her and caught her hands.

  “You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked, his voice rough.

  “Yes. I’m fine now,” she assured him.

  “Damn, Cowgirl, please don’t ever scare me like that again.”

  The intensity of his tone sent a shiver through her—part uncertainty, part desire. She looked up at him, but before she could assure him she didn’t intend to get cornered by coyotes again, he pulled her against him and kissed her.

  This was no casual brush of his mouth against hers, but an urgent, passionate assault, his mouth claiming hers while his strong arms bound her against him.

  At the first touch of his mouth, surprise turned instantly to response. She kissed him back just as fiercely, wanting more and more. Hang caution, patience, and moving slowly. Being in his arms felt right, and kissing him was heaven.

  She could feel his heart racing, as hers was, when finally he released her.

  “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have. But all I could think of was you mangled by a coyote and—”

  She pressed a finger against his lips. “Don’t apologize. No need. That is, unless you don’t intend to kiss me again.”

  It took only a second for him to take in her meaning. She saw heat flashing in his eyes before she closed her own and let him pull her against him then wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, letting him devour her and taste her.

  She must still be woozy, for after a few minutes of glorious kissing, she swayed in his arms. Duncan stepped back to steady her. For a few more minutes, both of them breathing hard, they simply stared at each other.

  The bawling of the cow brought them back to reality. Which was fortunate, Harrison thought ruefully. She’d been about to throw all caution to the wind and drag him into the pickup, either to continue their session on the comfort of a padded seat or to urge him back to the ranch to find an even more comfortable bed.

  “The mama,” Duncan said unsteadily, his smoky gaze clearing. “I’d better go check on her.”

  “Yes, let me pick up my gear,” Harrison said. “Better tend to the cow before I try to take advantage of you.”

  Grinning, Duncan ran a fingertip over her kiss-swollen lips. “You’re welcome to take advantage of me anytime,” he said and picked up his own gear.

  A short time later, they reached the heifer, who had in fact delivered her calf—a fine, strapping steer. Harrison crooned to mama and baby while Duncan knelt on the calf and tagged him, then handed the circumference tape over to him and told the cow what a splendid job she’d done and what a handsome son she’d produced while Duncan completed the measurements. After jotting everything down in her book, she looked up to say, “Any good ideas on how we encourage her back to the correct side of the fence?”

  “Stay here with her and talk to baby. I’ll get my rope. We’ll lasso and lead her. She should be pretty tired and will follow docilely enough. We want her back on the right side of the fence so we can check for afterbirth later.”

  Duncan’s prediction was accurate; the new mother allowed him to twirl the loop of rope around her neck and followed along as Duncan led her, while Harrison stayed a little behind to help the wobbly calf make it up the steep rise.

  “You’re pretty good with that lasso,” Harrison said once they’d ushered the cows through the fence break and set the mama loose.

  He turned to her with a smile. “I’m very good with my hands.”

  And your mouth, she almost said. “So I’ve noticed,” she said instead.

  “I hope to show you more.”

  “I’m looking forward to seeing it.”

  He blew out a breath. “Good thing we have a fence to mend, or that comment would get you a further demonstration right here and now. But I’d rather wait until we’re not standing in the middle of a pasture.”

  Harrison tried to stifle the needy, irresponsible side that wanted to throw caution to the wind and let him make love to her, devil take the consequences or the awkwardness or the implication she wasn’t sure was yet true that she was now recovered and ready to move on.

  Knowing she needed to defuse the sensual tension before she did something stupid or irreparable, she said, “Not in the middle of a pasture. Sometime when I’m not covered head to toe in mud would be better too. By the way, do you use that lasso often? You look pretty practiced.”

  “In the old days we used horses, not trucks, to tend the herd. Still do, if the cows are congregated in an area too steep and rocky for a vehicle. Daddy taught all us boys to ride and handle rope before we were old enough to shave. Sometimes, we still ‘drag’ the calves when we brand them. Now, let’s get this fence mended.”

  After getting out the wire, stretchers, and couplers, they walked back down to the broken place in the fence. With the swift efficiency she admired so much, Duncan quickly had the bottom wires repaired. And then paused, inspecting the two ends of the topmost wire that she held out for his examination.

  “Guess she really wanted that calf born on the other side of the hill,” Harrison said.

  “Maybe. The cows do get crazy sometimes right before they calve, and many of them like to go off on their own. But this wire doesn’t look like it’s been pulled apart, which is how it should appear if she decided to just barrel through it. You see how clean the break is? Looks more like it’s been cut.”

  “You think it was deliberate then?”

  Instead of answering, Duncan said, “After we finish this up, I’d like to go take a look at the brush you hauled out of that stream.”

  “You have a sudden fondness for soggy branches?”

  “I know we had a storm last night, but look around.” He gestured toward the ridge up where the truck was parked. “There aren’t that many cypress outcroppings here. Even with a heavy rain, there shouldn’t have been enough branch fall washing downhill to clog up a free-flowing stream.”

  “You think someone cut the brush and jammed it in there?” Harrison asked incredulously.

  “If you hadn’t noticed it right away, it could have created a real bog with the water continuing to flow into the meadow, maybe washing away or drowning any seedling hay. And if you didn’t notice it for a long while, and the water continued to be diverted into the dry season, you might have ended up with a noticeable shortage downstream.”

  Harrison frowned. “That cut is one of the major steams that feed the creek where we get most of our water for the stock.”

  “Exactly.”

  After putting away the fencing gear, they walked in silence down the hill, treading gingerly through the sucking mud until they reached the stream and then the branches and debris Harrison had lugged onto the drier ground, well away from the water. After picking up and inspecting several of the larger branches, Duncan shook his head.

  “These were definitely cut. See how sharp and clean the broken ends look? If they’d torn off or fallen, the place where they were attached to the tree would be more ragged and irregular.”

  Harrison blew out a breath. “So you do think someone’s deliberately trying to make work for me.”

  “Sure seems like it. Almost impossible to prove, of course, unless you can catch someone in the act. But suspicious enough for me to make some inquiries.”

  “Of Marshall Thomason?”

  “Maybe, though he’d be certain to deny involvement, whatever the truth of the matter. I’ve got a few ideas, and I want to check with my brother, Brice.”

  “The Ranger.”

  “Right. If there’s some sort of organized thing going on, he should know about it—or know who to ask.”

  “I just have a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that all this could be deliberate.”

  “Despite the evidence, we’ll pr
obably never know for sure. Not about this fence and this stream. I’d still like to follow up on it. But I don’t want you to have to worry over it. Would you be okay with having me deal with this?”

  Not since Daddy had welcomed her home from the devastation of Dallas with a hug and wordless sympathy had Harrison felt the blessed sense of having someone watch her back and look out for her.

  The lump in her throat making it too hard to speak, she nodded, then wiped the tears sheening her eyes with the back of her gloved hand. “Thanks,” she said after a moment, her voice still raspy. “I’d really appreciate it.”

  He smiled that sweet half smile that curled her toes and made her want to devour him whole. “Anything for you, Cowgirl.”

  Before she could get her dazzled brain to respond with something intelligible, he waved toward the parked trucks. “Better let you get back to the ranch. I imagine you’re even more eager for a shower, some rest, and a glass of wine than you were last time you missed lunch.”

  A hot shower did sound heavenly—if not quite as heavenly as getting more of his kisses. “Would you like to come over later and join me for a glass?”

  He shook his head. “Can I take a rain check? I want to check in with Brice and then go into town and see what I can scare up.”

  Disappointed, but knowing it was probably better not to have him come by while her senses were still so stirred up—and her willpower was correspondingly feeble—she nodded. “Okay. You’ll let me know what you find out?”

  “Of course. If I can find the people I’m looking for, I might have something to tell you by tomorrow.”

  By then, they’d reached the vehicles. Duncan opened her door for her, then caught her hand before she could climb up. When she looked up inquiringly, he leaned down to give her one last long, slow kiss. “Stay safe, Cowgirl,” he murmured.