On Common Ground

by Jansen Schmidt

  “I’ll go talk to her.”

  Trevor blew out a huge breath. Rocky hadn’t grilled him about how or why Ketra had confided in him. It wasn’t any of Rocky’s business, yet Trevor still felt like he’d dodged a bullet. He couldn’t lie to the older man, but neither could he share the details of his night with Ketra.

  He secured his horse to a hitching post and removed the saddle. When he finished brushing the mare, he put the tack into its place in the supply room. Rocky met him in the corridor, motioning for him to step back into the tack room.

  “Ket says she’s fine. She seems okay. I’ll get Brooks from Sadie’s and head into Flag. I guess I don’t have to tell you to keep an eye on her since you can’t seem to stop looking at her.” He shook his head. “Just like your dad,” he muttered as he walked away.

  Trevor wanted to run straight to the arena and give Ketra a lecture for sneaking out of his bed the way she did, but he figured a better opportunity would present itself later if all the guys were headed to the fair. The less time he spent around her when others were around, the less likely someone would figure out that he was in love with her. And, damn, when had that happened?

  He had no business falling in love. Ever. Never again. He’d done that once. What a mistake. He stood in the middle of the tack room chastising himself for allowing his heart to rule his mind. Despite years of rigorous training and stringent self-discipline to ignore his emotions, here he stood, mooning over a woman.

  He wandered down the breezeway separating the long row of stalled horses, disgusted but excited at the same time. The last woman he loved shredded his heart to bits. Not to mention his pride, she had trampled that to pieces, too. The woman he loved now might very well do the exact same thing. How is a man supposed to deal with this situation?

  Carter and Jaret found him staring down the corridor of stalls, hands on hips, rapt in confusion.

  “There a problem?” Carter asked.

  “Yeah.” Trevor snapped out of his lovestruck stupor. The sulfuric tang of urine clogged his sinuses. “No one’s cleaned these stalls since Brooks left.”

  “That does pose a problem,” Carter said. “That dumb shit Trik could clean ‘em. He’s too stupid to do anything else.”

  Jaret snickered. Carter shifted his weight onto one leg, thrusting a hip against the wall.

  Though Carter’s cockiness irritated like alcohol on an open wound, Trevor didn’t take the bait. “I’ll give that some thought.”

  “Or one of the redskins could do it. They’re used to that kind of work,” Carter said.

  Jaret guffawed. When Trevor’s eyes narrowed his mirth fizzled into a coughing fit.

  Though Trevor had already bested him twice, Carter tucked his hands into his pockets and thrust his chest out.

  Not in the mood to fight simply for the sake of fighting, Trevor quirked his mouth, pretending to give the idea some thought. “I’ll post a schedule. You can all take turns.” He pivoted and headed for his house. He hadn’t had much sleep or any breakfast. A nap was out of the question. Even if he could close his eyes for a few minutes, there’s no way his brain would turn off the erotic images of Ketra’s naked body, flushed and slick with sweat from their love-making.

  If his cell phone hadn’t rang, he’d be halfway to the arena right now, intent on stripping her naked and tumbling her in the hay.

  “I got your message about the Hamilton kid,” Denny greeted. “Interesting coincidence. I’ve got a guy doing some digging over at OK Pen. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “It might be nothing.” Trevor slipped inside his cabin and pulled the door shut.

  “Or it might be something. IA is exploring your story in more depth. Maybe they’ll be more inclined to share information if they find some truth.”

  “Some truth?” Trevor tossed his hat on to the sofa in frustration. “Damn, Denny, they’ll find the whole truth. Why are they just now checking it out?”

  “Probably because they’ve done everything their way and nothing’s panned out. Now they’re going to try our way. They’ve talked to everyone in our department and gotten nowhere, which we knew would happen. They haven’t ruled you out yet, though. They can’t find anything connecting you to Southwestern or Glaskel, but they need someone to point the finger at.”

  Trevor stood at the side window watching the cattle swish their tails at teeming flies. A gentle breeze bowed the tall grass.

  “Well, they need to talk to the Feds,” Trevor retorted. “I’d sure like to know why the hell they were there that night.”

  “The only thing Annie told me is that they got a tip, but she won’t say from whom.”

  “Well, if it didn’t come from Ace, it had to be someone from Southwestern.” Trevor paced in front of the sofa.

  “That’s what I told Hawkins. I can only presume he’s following up on that.” After a moment of silence Denny continued, “Everyone’s nervous down here. I expect something’s going to come down soon. I’ve got your back. Keep hanging in there.”

  “Keep me posted about the Hamilton kid. I wish I could do something. This waiting sucks big time.”

  “Think of it as a vacation without using any PTO.”

  Trevor expelled an exasperated breath. “Just keep me in the loop.”

  “Roger that.”

  Trevor clicked the phone off and stared out his front window. Carter and Jaret, the only guys who hadn’t headed to Flagstaff earlier in the day, loaded a cooler into an older model pick-up truck before driving away in a cloud of dust. Trevor opened a bottle of beer and checked his e-mails.

  Three beers later, Ketra passed his cabin. She dug her key from the front pocket of her jeans. Grabbing his half-empty bottle, he made a beeline for her house. Halfway across the expanse of land between their houses, he noticed Rocky approaching as well. He shortened his steps so they reached her porch at the same time.

  “I’m heading out,” Rocky said when Ketra turned around. “You won’t have to worry about Brooks after tonight.”

  She aimed a half-hearted grin at Rocky, but the smile faltered when she looked at Trevor. Holding the door open to allow them entry, she shied away from Trevor as he passed. She glanced at him before turning her attention to Rocky.

  “I’m taking him to stay with Ruth and Dominic,” Rocky said. “Flagstaff’s too far away for him to make it back here on foot.”

  Ketra opened her mouth to speak but closed it again, nodding her agreement.

  “Trev will be here while I’m gone. I expect to be back by dinnertime. Silas is here, too, so you won’t be alone.”

  She nodded again and darted another quick glance at Trevor.

  “Maybe the two of you wanna go and have some fun at the fair like the rest of the gang,” Rocky suggested.

  Ketra swallowed and stared at the floor.

  He fixed his gaze on her face. Neither responded.

  Rocky shrugged. “Suit yourselves. But I think you should do something fun instead of moping around here, pretending you don’t like each other.”

  When Ketra peeked at him, he winked. She bowed her head as a pink blush spread across her cheeks.

  Trevor warmed at the memory of the fun they’d shared last night, his groin tightening at the hope of a repeat performance. Ketra, however, stuck her hands into her back pockets, squeezing her elbows tight against her rib cage. Her chin notched up and her lips thinned. Her recollection of last night’s events must not be as awesome as his. Hmmm.

  Rocky snorted. “You can pretend all you want, but it’s as clear as the nose on your face what’s really going on here.”

  The air left Trevor’s lungs. Did Rocky know that she’d spent the night in his bed?

  “You should get going if you want to be back by dinnertime,” Ketra said.

  Rocky hugged her rigid body. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  After
Rocky left, they stood in awkward silence, staring at each other. Trevor offered a tentative smile. “You mad at me for something?”

  “No.”

  “So…?”

  “So…?”

  “So, we’re good? We can be friends now?”

  With the toe of her boot she drew circles on the floor.

  “Or we’re going back to…what?”

  She shrugged.

  “You want to pretend nothing happened between us?”

  Silence.

  He sighed. “Why don’t we try being friends?”

  “I don’t need any friends.”

  “I disagree, but I’m not going to argue about it. How about if we try being lovers then? I’d like that better anyway.” He waggled his eyebrows, but the attempted playfulness fell flat.

  She huffed, the release of air fluttering the delicate curls framing her face. “Look…about last night—”

  “I was afraid you’d have regrets.”

  “I don’t. Last night was…wonderful…special. I didn’t know I could feel like that. But, just because we slept together, doesn’t mean we’re…you know?”

  “We’re?”

  “Let’s forget it happened okay?”

  He elevated his brows and dipped his chin. “Sweetheart, the very last thing I am going to do is forget what happened. Last night was one of the best, most honest nights of love-making in my life. I most definitely will not forget it. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” He stepped closer and lowered the register of his voice. “I’m thinking about it right now.”

  She backed away, crossing her arms across her chest. She cleared her throat.

  He refrained from kissing her. After what she’d been through with Kyle, he needed to be the opposite, patient and caring. “All right. Because I like you—a lot—we’ll do it your way.”

  Ketra nodded, sighing her relief.

  “But,” he chucked her under her chin, “I challenge you to forget last night.” Without another word he exited the house, pulling the door closed behind him.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The hands assembled in front of the firepit the following morning. Rocky assigned branding duties. Rocky still branded the old-fashioned way, with a hot iron. Some cattle operations had switched to freeze-branding, but Rocky insisted that fire branding was less expensive and longer lasting than the liquid nitrogen method employed by other ranches.

  Ketra walked the appaloosa through the cloverleaf pattern in the outdoor arena. Another blistering day meant constant coaxing of the horses. Sluggish herself, Ketra found it difficult to concentrate. She kicked the big mare and negotiated the barrels at a trot, narrowing the pocket each time through the drill. After several revolutions through the entire pattern, she advanced to a canter.

  Inside the barn, she set the timer before galloping full speed out of the alleyway and around the first barrel. A giant cloud of dust arose in the pasture where the men were branding. Her split-second loss of focus at the second barrel caused her to miss the target altogether. The horse veered sharply to the left to avoid colliding with the rails. Ketra lurched forward in the knick of time, preventing a nasty launch over the fence.

  Shit. Weeks of training would be for naught if she didn’t pull herself together. One error on her part is all it took in some instances to frighten a horse enough to ruin it for barrel racing. She prayed she wouldn’t have to perform all of the reassurance techniques again with the appaloosa.

  She patted the mare’s neck and spoke calm reassuring words to her all the way back to the barn. With any luck, the horse wouldn’t balk at being asked to perform the same pattern after this failed attempt.

  Horse and rider charged out of the barn again. Ketra homed in on the three-revolution pattern, encouraging the mare to circle the money barrel. They rounded the second without incident. When they completed the full loop around the point barrel, she spurred to full throttle for the homeward stretch back into the barn. Reining the horse to a sliding stop, she realized she had forgotten to set the time clock. What the hell is wrong with me this morning?

  She circled back to the arena entrance and pushed the button mounted on the wall. Programmed to start when she broke the plane of the specified barrier, the timer would run until she passed another point on her way back inside the barn. She backed the horse up, repositioning to run the pattern again. Gulping a huge breath, she slapped the reins against the appaloosa’s flank. They charged into the sunshine, around the barrels at breakneck speed. Nineteen seconds later, they flew down the alleyway separating the stalls. She rubbed the mare’s neck, praising her endurance as she dismounted.

  After securing the mare to a hitching post near the tack room, she got a bottle of water and walked to the opposite barn door. Great clouds of dust enshrouded the pasture where snorting horses, bawling cattle and shouting men clumped together. Curiosity drove her to the chaos.

  Jaret and Tannon, working as a team, roped and dropped young beeves near Razor, who applied the hot iron to their hips. She wrinkled her nose at the pungent stench of burning hair and hide.

  But, farther out, Trevor rode in circles, his rope around the head of a scrawny heifer. Matt tried and failed to snag her heels. Briggs waited with the branding rod. Ketra squinted into the melee for the others. Silas and Rocky worked in another area with Lucas and Cullen, castrating the young bulls.

  After several minutes, Trevor released his hold on the sweaty heifer, recoiled his rope and rode through the dust cloud toward her. He removed his hat and wiped sweat from his brow.

  “I’d love some of that.” He pointed to her bottle of water.

  She handed it up. Their gazes collided and held. He scratched his neck, craning it the opposite direction of her inquisitive eyes. He chugged the water and passed the empty bottle back.

  “Having fun?” she asked.

  “Not really.”

  “What the hell is going on out here?”

  “Well, I’ve got three decent ropers and I need four. Absent the fourth, it’s just a waste of time. I guess the branding will take two days instead of one, as I had hoped.”

  “Where’s Carter? He’s the best roper in this bunch of idiots.”

  Trevor wiped his mouth on his sleeve before answering. “Mr. Applewhite got himself into a bit of a fix last night at the fair.”

  “Figures. He’s an asshole.”

  “Well, asshole or not, I need him here not rotting in a jail cell.”

  “So there is some justice in the world, then? Serves the prick right.”

  “Yeah, goodie for us, there’s justice for the pricks. He should be back soon though. Trik went to bail him out, said he owed him for fishing him out of the river on the drive.” He sat starting at Jaret and Tannon for a few seconds than nudged his horse away from the fence. “I’m pretty sure you have something better to do than to sit around laughing at us.”

  Ketra considered his question as he rode away. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Her chance to show him how wrong he’d been about her ranching abilities just presented itself. With determination in her stride and a smile on her face, she headed back to the barn.

  She unsaddled the appaloosa and gave her a quick rub down and some oats before selecting a sure-footed little gelding from the opposite side of the barn. She switched saddles, grabbed her rope and loped toward the cattle pasture. She located Trevor, his rope around the neck of a calf waiting for Matt to get his rope around the back legs. When Trevor’s back was to her, she charged in, twirling her rope and snagging the squirrely young bull around both ankles. She tugged hard, nearly unseating Trevor, who wasn’t expecting the bull to go down. He managed to wrap his dally despite the unexpected jerk. Matt stared, his forgotten rope lying limp in the dirt.

  “You gonna put a brand on him or just stand there trying to catch flies in that ugly trap of yours?” Ketra demanded of
Briggs, who stood gaping.

  Briggs plunged the fiery hot brand onto the bull’s lower flank. The animal bawled when searing iron connected with hide. Briggs moved back to the fire, Ketra loosened her loop, and slid it off the back legs of the bull. Back on its feet, Trevor tugged the animal to the castrating pen.

  Trevor re-coiled his and rode up to Ketra. “Got it in ya for a few more?”

  She harrumphed. “If you think you can put a loop around another one, I’ll have him on the ground before you finish your dally.”

  “You’re on, Hot Shot.”

  For the rest of the afternoon, Ketra and Trevor roped cattle, dropping them faster than Jaret and Tannon. She’d love to hear the curse words they were undoubtedly muttering. None of these cowboys enjoyed being bested by a woman. When the last heifer bellowed in outrage after the smoking brand burned her flank, Ketra and Trevor released their hold on their ropes. The other hands headed to the bunks for something cold to drink. Silas, Trevor, and Ketra lingered near the smoldering embers.

  “You’re one hell of a roper,” Silas said.

  “If you hadn’t joined us, we’d have been here all week,” Trevor said. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t be expecting it again. I’ve got my own work to do. If your guys can’t pull their weight, I suggest you cut them loose.” She moved her sweaty horse away from the dying embers in the fire pit.

  “I know she knows how to be nice,” Trevor said. “Why can’t she just take a compliment and accept thanks like normal people?”

  “She’s a damn fine roper,” said Silas. “I ain’t never seen nobody rope like that. In fact,” he paused and looked at Trevor with a gleam in his eye, “you two make a real good team.”

  “That’ll be the day,” Trevor mumbled.

  Ketra snorted in disgust.

  “Let’s wrap it up,” Rocky said. “Nice work out here. I’m glad, and somewhat surprised, we got it all done in one day.”

  “We’d never have gotten this all done today with just one team of ropers.”

  Ketra heard the compliment in Trevor’s voice even though the words were spoken to Rocky and not her. Trevor opened the gate and walked his horse through, re-latching it behind him. “What’s the recommendation for Applewhite?” he asked Rocky.