Forget Me Not

by Madden, J. M.

  Lora dragged her feet. "I don't want to leave her here."

  "We're going to be right next door, literally next door. We won't even be gone long enough for her to notice."

  It took everything she had to walk away from Mercy. Even as they left, she craned to look over her shoulder.

  Cheyenne stopped. "Lora, look at me."

  Clenching her jaw, she looked at her.

  "This is an excellent time to show Mercy how much trust you have in her. Your daughter is at an age when she needs to build her confidence to become a strong woman. Right?"

  Lora nodded, reluctantly.

  "We could be in here hours and she wouldn't even notice. Did you see all the other little girls in there?"

  "No," she admitted.

  "That's a very popular spot for them to hang. They have little trial sizes of hand sanitizer you can get for a dollar. It will take her a while to pick out the twenty I told her she could have."

  Lora's eyes widened in surprise. "Twenty? Why does she need twenty hand sanitizers?"

  Laughing, shaking her head, Cheyenne looked at her sadly. "She doesn't need them, but she'll want them."

  Lora had a feeling Cheyenne was right, but that didn't make her feel any better about leaving her daughter where any man could steal her.

  "Lora, look at me."

  She looked up into Cheyenne's kind, bright blue eyes. "You can't be with her twenty-four seven. You took out the main source of danger for her, right?"

  She nodded.

  "Then you need to let Mercy grow. She's not going to go anywhere, I swear to you."

  As hard as walking on hot coals, Lora allowed Cheyenne to lead her into the next store. But when she got a glimpse of what they were selling, she almost turned around. "I don't know about this, Cheyenne.”

  The woman wasn't listening.

  "You’re what,” Cheyenne fixed Lora with a considering eye, “a 36C?"

  Cheyenne started flipping hangers. The bras on those hangers were everything that Lora was not—pretty, lacy, frilly. Cheyenne held a bra up in front of her. Lora almost pushed it away but it was the prettiest color of plum purple she'd ever seen. Against her better judgment she took the bra, trying to decide if it would fit her. Cheyenne shoved several more into her hands before guiding her to a dressing room. "If something doesn't fit let me know and I'll swap it out."

  Unfortunately, everything did fit. Perfectly. As she looked at herself in the mirror, a peach lace confection boosting her decent-sized boobs up, she could imagine the look on Chad's face. His eyes would go to half-mast and his full lips would tilt up on one side. And he would get that look on his face that promised her naughty pleasure.

  Just the thought of what he would think about these things was enough to get her excited.

  When she stepped out of the dressing room, Cheyenne gave her a knowing smile. She walked forward and held up more silk and lace. "Let's find the matching panties for those bras."

  Lora handed over her card more easily this time, though the bill was almost twice as much as her clothes. She'd gotten half a dozen bra and panty sets, some sexy little sleep pants, two nightgowns, a bathing suit that made her blush every time she thought about it, a silk robe and a set of hair ties.

  Lora walked out of the store feeling as giddy as Mercy had earlier. And when she walked into the smell-good store and found her daughter in very nearly the same spot she'd left her, all of the tension in her belly eased. Nothing had happened. Derek and his mother weren't stalking her any more, trying to steal her child from her. There were no obvious dangers lurking, waiting to grab her.

  For the first time in a long time she relaxed enough to wander a completely frivolous store, sniffing here and there. Mercy had picked out her twenty hand-sanitizers, and Cheyenne grabbed a bagful for her own daughters. Lora picked out two lotions and two shower gels that appealed to her and she even found Chad a bottle of spicy smelling shower gel. Oh, that would smell so good on him.

  By the time they left the mall and headed for Cheyenne's truck, they were loaded down. And she was battling guilt again.

  "I'm supposed to be on the ranch and feeding people."

  Cheyenne snorted. "No worries about that. I told my friend Payton to throw some fajita meat together. It's easy and filling. They'll be more than happy with it. Anyway, we have one more stop, then we'll head home."

  The next stop was an enormous boot store. Lora felt her mouth drop open at all of the different styles, colors and textures. There were boots with decorative stitching, there were boots with more bling than all of her jeans combined, and there were boots with absolutely no decoration on them at all. There was one set of boots with a real rattlesnake head on the toe. Those made her shudder.

  "This is practical shopping," Cheyenne told them. "You need a set of boots and a hat, and you need to wear them everywhere you go outside. We have rattlesnakes all over the place out here, and the sun can be a real bitch. Put your sunscreen on and wear your hat at all times."

  Mercy and Lora nodded. Their little group headed toward the kids’ boots first. Mercy zeroed in on a set of dark purple boots with a jeweled design up the leg of the boot. When she tried them on and they fit almost perfectly, Mercy danced in delight. "These are the ones I want."

  Lora agreed that they were perfect for her and they moved to the women's section. The sheer amount of choice was overwhelming. Lora gravitated toward the plainer ones, of course. Then a pair of dark blue boots drew her eye. She pulled the pair from the rack and looked them over. They seemed sturdy, but pretty at the same time. Lora sat on the little bench and pulled them on. They were a little snug but the leather would relax the more she wore them, Cheyenne said.

  Lora nodded her head and set them on the checkout desk with Mercy's pair. They needed to pick out hats and they would be done.

  Cheyenne plonked a couple of different hats on Mercy's head till one settled correctly. It was tan, had a broad brim, and looked adorable on her. "How does that feel on?"

  "Good. It's nice and shaded."

  That's what Lora wanted as well.

  "Most of the time you have to order hats," Cheyenne told them, "to fit your head correctly. But they take time to make and we don't really have that now. You'll have to settle for an off the rack piece."

  Lora found a cream straw hat, tightly woven on the brim to block the sun but vented on the crown. There was a leather thong around the band with a string of pretty blue beads hanging from it. The thong matched her boots perfectly and when she stood in front of the mirror, she looked appropriate for where they were. There were cowboys in Colorado, but on the ranch she knew everyone wore hats. Even in this fairly urban shopping district nearly all the men and women she saw were wearing their hats.

  Mercy refused to wear anything other than her boots and hat out, so Lora joined her. It would give them a chance to start breaking them in. The boots especially would take a little time to get used to. Cheyenne grinned at the two of them and snapped a picture on her cell-phone as they walked out of the store. "Chad is not going to know what hit him when he sees his girls."

  As she thought of the bag of sexy things in the back of the car, she couldn't suppress a grin. He wouldn't know what had hit him.

  Chapter 11

  The noonday sun was scorching when Chad pulled his truck in front of the main barn. It seemed too hot for late spring, or was it early summer here in Texas, he wondered with a smile. Horses in the paddock to the right stood hipshot, nose to tail with other horses to keep the flies away. Chad looked out over the expanse.

  The ranch hadn't changed much in his almost thirty-four years of life. Dad had added and expanded barns, but the overall layout had stayed the same. House to the West, big barn to the East, paddocks and small barns North and South. The area had a few low hills with trees but overall it was flat and grassy. The long-ago Lowells had settled into a natural depression in the landscape so water was a little easier to come by. The Blue Star’s wells always produced water and it had b
een a blessing for many generations.

  Which was a good thing. It was significantly warmer in Texas than Colorado.

  At some point while they were here Chad wanted to take Mercy to the Oasis, a spring-fed pond he, his father and Brock had developed years ago. It was just a glorified, deepened pond that they'd landscaped, but it had been one of the funnest things they'd had to do while growing up. One of the trees had a massive rope swing that would drop them almost to the far side if they didn't release soon enough.

  A black-hatted man cantered up on a bright black and white paint. Broadly built, the shirt strained over his chest. His long pitch-black hair was drawn back into a thick braid beneath the hat. Chad shaded his eyes as he walked toward Jackson, and held his hand out for a shake when he dismounted.

  "Chad, you old bastard. What the hell are you doing here?"

  Chad grinned at Jackson Windwalker, the Blue Star foreman. "Hey, Jackson. Well, believe it or not, I asked Brock if he needed help and he took me up on the offer."

  Jackson jerked the black hat off his head and started fanning himself with it. "I'm sorry. Did you say Brock Lowell accepted your help?"

  Chad nodded, laughing.

  "This place must be going to hell and I just haven't been told..."

  Jackson had been around long enough that he'd seen many crazy things happen on the ranch. He was a couple of months older than Brock. The two of them clucked back and forth like old hens, but they were the best of friends and normally saw eye to eye on the running of the ranch.

  "Well, if you're here to work lets get you kitted out. We're working on the holding pens to the north and we could use some help."

  “Absolutely.”

  Chad took a few minutes to stow his gear in the big house, change his hat and shirt and grab a couple bottles of water before he headed to the barn. His leg felt good right now, but he'd have to care for it properly as soon as he was done tonight. Being in the saddle for any length of time would take some adjustment.

  Jackson gave him a bright red sorrel with a white blaze down his head and two white socks named Oakley.

  "He's only three so he’s not real smart yet but he has a good heart and he'll go and go. Be gentle on his mouth."

  Chad nodded, understanding that Jackson wanted his touch on the reins to be gentle. It was very easy for an inexperienced rider to bruise a horse's mouth and undo months of training. It was a vote of confidence that Jackson had given the horse to him.

  Chad brushed the colt thoroughly as he stood in the cross ties before heading to the massive tack room just inside the barn door, to the right. Jackson pointed out which items he needed and Chad gathered the saddle and bridle. He hefted the huge saddle up over his shoulder, holding onto the horn with his strong right hand. This was the easiest way to carry a saddle, but it left his weak hand to do the rest of the work. Chad only dropped the bridle once on the way back to the patiently waiting horse, but he had to return a second time to retrieve the thick red and black saddle pad. Talking softly, Chad moved toward the colt, showing him the pad. Jackson hadn't said exactly how much training he'd had, so he was going slow to give Oakley a chance to get used to him.

  The colt let him settle the pad onto his back with no problem. He shied a little when he lifted the saddle to his back, but calmed when Chad talked to him. Removing one of the cross ties Chad spanned the headstall of the bridle across his right hand, holding the bit in his left hand. Hoping Jackson had trained this horse as well as the others he had, he clucked to the horse and pushed the bit toward his mouth. The horse lowered his head and allowed the bit, then the headstall to be fitted. Chad nodded in satisfaction as he straightened the colt's ears and forelock, then patted him on the neck. "Good job, buddy."

  Jackson had disappeared, so Chad led the horse out of the barn and tied him to the wooden beam placed for that purpose just outside the door. Then he retrieved the bottles of water he'd grabbed and packed them into his saddle bags, along with a pair of leather gloves he'd nabbed from the tack room.

  "Are you ready?"

  Jackson had appeared from around the side of the barn, as silent as always. The man was part Native American and had the skills to prove it. Years ago it had driven Chad and his siblings crazy because if they ever did anything wrong, it was usually Jackson that had caught them.

  "Yeah, I'm ready."

  Testing the horse's training, he mounted him from the wrong side. He had to, because his prosthetic left leg wouldn't twist the way it needed to when he mounted. But the colt stood firm. Chad was pretty surprised. He leaned over the side and fitted his boot into the left stirrup, then patted Oakley on the neck.

  They took off at an easy trot to get the horses warmed up. Chad bounced a little as he learned Oakley's gait, but as soon as they sped into a canter he limbered up. The horse was one of the best he'd ever ridden.

  Brock prided himself on the quality horseflesh he bred, and he and Jackson were two of the best trainers around. The two of them together had put the Blue Star on the map for quarter horses. Their father had made Blue Star’s name known for prime beef cattle, but Brock had been behind the horses’ acclaim.

  As Oakley settled into a rocking canter, Chad gave Jackson a thumbs up with his bad hand. The sign was a little lame, but he conveyed the gist of it. Jackson grinned and tipped his hat in acknowledgement, the length of his coal black braid bouncing along his back.

  They rode for the better part of twenty minutes, up and down low hills and finally ended near a copse of trees with a windmill that promised water in their depths. There was a flatbed truck parked near them and stacks of fence panels fastened on. Brock stood unfastening the panels, getting ready to lift them to the ground with the attached hoist.

  "We need to get a temporary holding pen and sorting area set up here," he motioned. "Even with help, we don't have the manpower to drive the cattle up to the Johnson place, where we normally take them, so we're setting up a temporary holding and sorting lot. It's not ideal as doing it at Johnsons’ where everything is already in place, but we had to streamline."

  Chad remembered that there was normally one ranch designated to be the shipping point for the cattle going to sale. To maximize workforce, all the hands from both ranches converged on one ranch for roundup, then moved cattle to the second. That way both ranches got everything done safely. He'd forgotten that it would probably be the Johnson place this year. Maybe Tara would avoid the round-up.

  This year, though, with Garrett gone and the siblings running back and forth to Amarillo, the schedule had been blown to shit. Now they needed to work with what they had. A few neighbors would show up to help, but it wasn't going to be the big production it normally was.

  As Brock unloaded the twelve-foot panels with the hoist, Chad and Jackson set the panels out of the way against a tree. Brock could guide them where to start building the lot itself. It was hot, dirty work, but hours later they had what they needed. There was a large sorting pen that could accommodate several hundred cattle and two smaller pens off of it, with a spot for the shipping truck to back up to it. It wasn't ideal, but it would work.

  By the time they got everything set, Chad was whipped. Yes, he worked out every day, or at least every day he could, but it had been a long time since he'd done hard physical labor like this. Brock's vigilant observation had forced him to keep going, even when he should have eased up. He could feel blood seeping down his left hand and into his glove where the skin had broken, but he didn't take it off. He could care for the nagging injury when he got back to the house.

  Brock's frown hadn't changed, but it had eased a bit. He seemed satisfied by what they'd done. Chad had worked his ass off, literally lifting every fence panel into place and pinning it together with the attached hinges. His back ached, the stump of his left leg ached and his bad forearm was burning but he felt good about what they'd done.

  "I'll drive the truck back," Brock said. "You guys go ahead."

  Chad groaned as he lifted himself onto Oakley's bac
k. His right arm throbbed and quivered because it always took up the slack for his weak left. He settled into the saddle and wished he'd been more prepared to do this.

  They rode back to the big house in silence. Chad would like to think that Jackson was hurting too, but he doubted it. He'd seen the big man hoist double the amount of panels into place he had.

  Chad wondered what Lora and Mercy had gotten into. His stomach growled and he dreamed of food they'd be able to scarf down before hitting the sack. Hell, he'd be happy with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or six at this point. His water bottles had long since been drained, then refilled at the stock pond.

  Once again they settled into a nice canter to head home. Jackson had a determined look on his face, like he was hoping Christmas had arrived at the ranch while he’d been working. Chad had told him about Emily coming out to stay for a week or so while the round-up was going on and he'd gotten this dark look on his face. He'd snugged the hat on his head and kept working, though his directions had been decidedly more terse.

  It was well known on the ranch that Jackson had been sweet on Emily for a long time, culminating in wild affair when she’d been in college, but she'd not been willing to be tied down to the ranch. Plus there were some hang-ups on Jackson’s side about dating his best friend's kid sister. For a long time he had avoided her as much as possible, thinking that he was too old for her. Six years wasn’t a huge amount, but Jackson had thought otherwise. When he had finally decided to pursue her, it had been a fiery romance. But Emily was not content with settling down like Jackson wanted. She had an incredible mind in her pretty head and she'd wanted to use it for more than ranch work.

  They had made a pact, though, that if she hadn't gotten married within ten years she had to return to the ranch to marry him. It had been witnessed by Cheyenne, Chad and Payton.

  "Just for curiosity's sake, has it been ten years since Emily left?"

  "Yes," Jackson snapped.

  Chad felt bad about digging up the past but it was obvious by Jackson's quick response that he'd been thinking about it as well.