“Because—” He sighed again. “Because I’d like to have your opinion about this guy. He’s the son of your father’s old partner, and your father wants him here. But there’s something about him I don’t like. Thought you’d have a little more info and could help me out with this.”
Was he asking her for help? “I don’t want to be caught between you and my father. What if I’m fine with this guy—and so far I am—but you’re not?” She bit her lip.
She could practically see him shrug. “You and your father are my bosses. He’s already sure about the man. I just want to make sure you are, too.”
She couldn’t think of any good reason to disagree with him. Besides, this was the first time he was asking her for help. Since they’d made their deal, he’d kept his conversation brief and to the point, leaving no room for arguments. And they only interacted when necessary. Oddly, she found herself missing him. That wouldn’t do. “I’m on my way. And you can be sure I’ll give you my opinion—on your new hire.”
“I’m counting on it.” And the weird thing was he sounded as if he meant it.
She grabbed her coat and sunglasses and headed toward the barn. As she did, she racked her memory for anything to do with Peter White. Growing up he’d been a secretive, sullen teenager, with more important things to do than entertain the wild tomboy of his father’s business partner. And he’d gone to school out of state. The last time she’d seen him was four years ago at his father’s funeral. At least the new foreman would be hiring someone she knew. Someone she didn’t need to worry was the attacker who got away.
Now I understand why schools ban hoodies and hats. Easy to hide from cameras.
“Mornin’, Miss Locke.” A strange man stepped out of Snowbird’s stall, and remained in the doorway so the large gelding wouldn’t walk out.
She took a step back. “Peter.” She grit her teeth, frustrated at being startled. “What are you doing with my horse?”
“Just getting him ready for you, ma’am.” Peter’s eyes seemed to look everywhere except at her face. “John said the three of us were to ride out for the grand tour. So I got your horse cleaned up and saddled for you.”
“Thanks,” she said faintly. Peter was not as tall as John, but neither was he the gangly teen she remembered. His bald head made him look older, and he’d bulked up in unexpected ways. Is he seriously wearing True Religion jeans? Then again, she couldn’t recall the Whites ever wearing anything but brand name clothes. Despite the fact he wasn’t a stranger, she found herself unable to squeeze past him to enter the stall.
When he moved away a couple of feet, she entered to greet her horse.
“Hey, big guy.” The blue roan gelding swung his head around to greet her. She smiled as he lipped at her arm. “Sorry, but peppermints are for after we work. You know that.”
“Nice horse. You ready to go?”
She turned to see John and Koda in the doorway of the stall. Her chest gave a now familiar squeeze. And the static, the crackling in the air that happened every time he stood near, was enough to make her a little afraid that if his hand brushed hers, she’d be electrocuted. “Sure. I’m ready. I figure we can show Peter what he needs to see inside of an hour. No need to ride all of the fences.”
“I thought so, too. Want to take the dogs, or leave them here?”
“We’ll just take Koda. Nickel and Two Bits can stay with Dad.”
She led Snowbird out of the stall so she could check the bridle and saddle. She pushed her sunglasses up her nose. This is going to be an interesting morning.
She mounted Snowbird and led the way east, Peter trying to nose his horse ahead of John. “Let’s do the near circle. We’ll be going out just past the ranch buildings—the barns and sheds and houses—and along the fences where the pastures begin. You can get an idea of where everything is without having to cover every inch of the place.”
“Sounds good, Miss Locke.” Peter rode the small but powerful bay with the apt name of Bayberry. The stallion was a beauty, glossy as silk, and muscled with watch springs.
Peter looked as comfortable on his mount as she was on hers.
Pity I can’t say the same for John. He sat stiffly on the tall and steady Redwood. The angle must be hard for his injured knee, but he never complained—or allowed so much as a grimace to cross his face. Any true sponger wouldn’t pass up the chance to draw attention to his injuries. She stole a look back at John. Guess Dad was right and I was wrong.
He looked up, catching her gaze. He quirked an eyebrow in inquiry. She was confused until he jerked his head toward Peter.
She shrugged, turning her gaze back to the gently rolling hill in front of them. A narrow escape. He’d almost caught her checking him out. Something that’d become more frequent, and as unwelcomed as her feelings of “missing” their interactions.
Koda stayed close, often trotting off to investigate something interesting in the weeds but never going far.
“That’s a fine dog you have there, Miss Locke,” Peter said.
“Yes, she is.” Her lips turned upward into a forced smile.
For the next forty minutes, she showed them both the main horse barn, as well as the two cattle barns—one for sale animals, one for anything calving or sick—the two bunkhouses, the equipment barn, the hay barn, and several smaller sheds to be used for storage or last-minute shelter.
“Three Keys ranch has been here in some form for at least the last sixty years,” she told them. “There are some parts that have been torn down and replaced as time has gone on, of course, but most of it is still here and still operates much as it did when my great-grandparents owned it.”
“And later on, too, when my own father and yours were partners here, Miss Locke,” said Peter.
She just nodded at him and kept on riding. If he mentions his father again . . . . She’d lost track of the times Jefferson White had been brought into their conversation. It was clear Peter was intent on reminding her, John, and no doubt her father, of his father’s association with the ranch every chance he got.
She resisted the urge to grind her teeth. He clearly had no qualms about exploiting her father’s sense of loyalty to his former partner. She despised that sort of person.
They rode past the last stop—the north pasture, speckled with shrubby cinquefoil, where cows getting ready to calve were kept—and stopped at the gate.
“John.” She beckoned him to join her, looking over the pasture. “Do you see anything unusual out there?”
He trotted over on Redwood. “Yeah, I do,” he said, frowning as he took in the behavior of the cattle. “Why are they all bunched up out there at the fence line?”
“That’s odd.” Peter ambled over on his own horse. “They should be spread out all over and grazing.”
“We’d better take a look.”
“I’ll get the gate.” Peter started to dismount.
“No need.” She reined Snowbird over and used a little leg pressure to stand him parallel to the wide aluminum gate. From there, it was easy for her to reach down, unlock it, and ride through it. She stood Snowbird parallel to it on the other side without ever letting go. “Come on in.”
Koda trotted through first and the two men followed, one after the other.
“Nice trick,” said John, watching as she closed the gate.
Peter stayed silent and rode on ahead towards the cows.
She smiled to herself as she watched him go. Ha. That’s what a lifetime on a ranch will teach you. But a frown quickly formed. Something about Peter rubbed her the wrong way—something more than his bad habit of name-dropping. She urged Snowbird after the others.
Peter sized up the herd. “Black Angus?”
She nodded. “Ideal for Montana. And the best beef you’ll ever eat.”
“Hey—hey!” John said. “The fence is down! That’s why they’re all milling around it!”
“What do you mean, the fence is down?”
He urged Redwood into a canter toward the cows,
and both Snowbird and Bayberry instantly propelled forward to keep up. He began hollering at the cows and swinging the ends of the reins at them to drive them away from the fence.
He’s right. She joined in chasing the cows away. Some fifty feet of the barbed wire fence was flattened. In a couple of places, it had torn away from the fence posts and lay curling and dangerous in the grass. But the cows seemed to have realized they now had a chance to get at the fresh new grass growing beyond the fence—right along the edge of a deep ravine.
“Go on, cow! Move!” Katie shouted, using Snowbird to drive them away from the broken fence. “Move out of here!”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Peter doing the same. Even Koda got the idea and helped push the cows away. Soon the four of them had the balky cows at a safe distance.
She kept a watchful eye on the herd as they regrouped. “I can’t see any injuries. We’re lucky they didn’t want to step on the wire on the ground.”
“That’s right,” added John. “Kinda like horses. They don’t want to step on anything funny looking. But their greed might have gotten the better of their sense by tonight if we hadn’t come out here today.”
“So, let’s get it fixed,” Peter said, dismounting from Bayberry. “I’ve got a couple tools in the saddlebag.”
“Me, too,” John said. “I don’t leave home without them. Not on a cattle ranch.”
She stayed on her horse, holding the reins of the other two cattle while John set to work on the fence. She watched the cattle, Peter in her periphery as he worked. It didn’t take much time, but it felt too long.
Finally, John gave the fence post he’d just finished a thump to check it would hold. “We’ll have to come back out and do a better repair, but this will do for now. They’ll be safe for at least a few days.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” Peter winked at her.
She rolled her eyes but made no reply. She was not going to be the center knot in their tug of war. Instead, she held out the reins of their horses.
Koda left off keeping the cattle from coming back and headed toward the three horses. Peter bent down and invited the dog over to him. Koda flashed him a brief glance and went straight to John. Her tail wagged rapidly as he scratched her ears.
She tried to hide her smile. So much for being Jefferson White’s son.
Once they were back at the barn, John opened the door of the tack room—still holding Redwood’s rein—and reached into the refrigerator by the door. He came out with two bottles of cold water. Peter glanced at him, but he pointedly ignored him and walked over to Katie with Redwood following along.
“Want some water?”
She took the bottle, her fingers lightly grazing his hand. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he responded, and began leading his horse back to his stall to unsaddle him.
“What, don’t I get any water? I just repaired a fence,” Peter complained.
“Help yourself,” John told him. “But if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with Katie.”
Peter looked around as if searching for a reason to stay. “What about Bayberry? Someone’s got to remove his saddle.”
“I’ll do it,” Katie said.
Peter looked uncomfortable. “I can’t ask you to do that—”
“Fair is fair. You saddled Snowbird for me after all.” Her tone was brisk, making it clear the subject was not up for debate. “Why don’t you find my dad and tell him about the fence?”
“Yes, Miss Locke.” Peter left the barn on slow feet, looking over his shoulder more than once.
“Nicely done,” John said.
She took a quick gulp of water, before putting the bottle aside to lead Snowbird into his stall. “I am capable of dealing with ranch employees, you know.”
“Never said you weren’t.” He followed her example. He drank in large gulps, clearly thirsty.
Should I have been nicer to Peter? Knowing her dad, he’d invite Peter to have a drink with him. “I think you’re right.”
He choked on his water. “What?”
“Peter,” she said shortly. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s something.”
“More than bringing his father up every chance he got?” His eyes rested on her, waiting for her answer.
It was little things—the snide remark Peter had made after John’s clumsy mount, the way he looked around the ranch as if he owned it. She’d caught him looking at her sunglasses a moment, with a smirk on his lips, as if he knew exactly what she was hiding. “He doesn’t strike me as a team player.”
He smiled grimly. “Let’s not mention this to your dad. We need something more definite before he’ll consider letting Peter go.”
“All right. I’ll keep an eye on him.”
“Me, too.”
They resumed unsaddling the horses without another word. They were working as a team. Finally. One where silence felt comfortable, instead of uncomfortable. She found herself enjoying his presence. As she walked over to hang up the bridle, she laughed softly to herself. Maybe her need to keep safe, to keep strangers at a distance, had caused to her to create imaginary feelings John was hiding some big secret. Maybe.
Chapter 10
The day dawned cool and bright with a steady humming sound outside. Cicadas. John smiled. The sound took him back to his childhood. He stretched and winced as the sunlight gleaming into the bunkhouse hit him right in the face.
He’d been sleeping in the bunkhouse the past few nights. Between the work needing to get done, keeping an eye on Peter, and Katie piling work on to his ever growing to-do list, the hour drive back to Billings didn’t make sense. Not to mention the pure exhaustion washing over him at the end of the day.
He actually enjoyed the bunkhouse. A pleasant smell of dried grass, sage, and pine tree hung around the building, even in the early morning. The wooden bunk beds and the too-firm mattress reminded him of deployment. If he closed his eyes, he could almost hear the soft snoring and heavy breathing of the other men stationed with him, the rustling sounds of their blankets as they tossed and turned, the occasional contented sigh from Koda. He opened his eyes, expecting to see her curled beside his bed. He wondered what kind of a bed Katie had for Koda, or if the dog slept with her. She spoils her. Koda will get soft. Surely even she could see Koda was no delicate lap dog.
He grunted, heaving his body upright. Despite knowing it was best to get up and get moving, he found it increasingly hard. Within a few hours, the sun would heat up the landscape until everything sizzled. His feet shuffled toward the bathroom, and into the shower. His hand fell to the lever releasing thousands of tiny drops, so cold at first, he almost cried out. The stream thickened, hot water enveloping his body. He began to plan the day ahead, ranking the chores needing to get done. But his thoughts slipped away, like the water coursing down his body.
Katie.
He shook his head, trying to stop picturing the way her jeans and t-shirt hugged her body, perfectly accentuating her curves. It was becoming increasingly hard to hide the effect she had on him, especially in those moments he’d caught her staring him up and down. The pit of his stomach stirred in response to her physical presence. Even now, he felt himself grow hard at the thought of her. Even the image of her scowling, hands on hips, did nothing to halt his body’s response.
What am I, some kind of masochist? He needed to rid himself of this hunger fast before he did something he’d regret. Ruthlessly, he replayed his humiliating encounter at the bar, only this time it was Katie who flinched at the sight of him, her delicate mouth puckering with distaste.
Had he imagined the faint scar on her cheek? He’d only caught a glimpse before she ducked back inside the house. The right side of her face looked somehow—off. Like the few men he’d known with facial injuries from war. Even long after healing, they looked just a little asymmetrical, as though the bones around the eye had sunken in and would stay that way permanently. And the way she hid behind sunglasses, or the way she wore h
er hair down when a ponytail would be more practical. The strange freak-out once she realized he might have seen what she’d been hiding.
Her injuries were not the cause of an accident.
Blood pumped hard through his body. Grinding his teeth, he punched the wall of the shower. Someone hurt her. Why else would she hide her injuries?
Taking a deep breath in, he placed both palms on his lower back and stretched. His muscles ached from repairing fences the day before, and his head hurt even worse from the strain of forcing himself not to punch Peter into next week.
A groan rumbled in his throat at the thought of another day with Peter. The man was haughty and rude. And he was taking advantage of Mitch’s sense of loyalty. At least Katie wanted nothing to do with Peter and neither did Koda.
He grimaced as he pulled on his clothes. Every muscle burned. His knee complained ferociously, stiff and unyielding as he worked his jeans on. He slid his swollen feet into his work boots and started across the yard to the horse barn.
He stepped in to the deep shade of the big barn and found Mitch inside one of the empty stalls, a hammer in hand, repairing the water bucket holders.
“Mornin’, John,” Mitch said.
“Want me to do that?” John scratched his chin, stifling the urge to yawn.
“No, that’s fine. I like to do some of the hands-on work myself from time to time. Lets me keep in contact with the place.” Mitch patted the nearest beam, a smile creasing his weathered face.
“What should I start on?”
“We’ll know as soon as Peter gets back.”
“Gets back?”
“He rode out an hour ago to check the repairs you two made yesterday and make sure they’re holding. If the fences are good, I’d like you to start checking the rest of our fence lines. That’s going to take a lot of riding, but it’s got to be done. The dead of winter is no time to be repairing fences.”
“And if the repairs are no good, I’ll be repairing them again. But they’re good, Mitch. I swear to it.” Had someone insinuated they weren’t? Katie—no, it wasn’t her style to go behind someone’s back like that. Besides, she’d seen them at work. If there had been any problems, she’d have told John, directly to his face. Which left Peter.
Hearts Unleashed Page 7
