It was a small sea of brown. A very good-sized lake.
Between four and five hundred, Tag told her when she asked. Dropping lower over the course of the year and then replenished by about half with new calves every spring.
He looked out over them, and Liberty could see his pride in what he owned, what he’d built. He caught her looking. “Here,” he said. He sidled his horse up to hers, reached an arm around her waist, and hiked her over so she sat on his thighs, facing him. With their arms around each other, his head resting on hers, they both looked over the buffalo-dotted land.
“How tame are they?” she asked after a few minutes of content quiet.
“Not tame,” he said immediately. “They just sort of…get used to us. Don’t ever go out among them. It’s not safe. They’re surprisingly agile and quick. They can outrun a horse in a short sprint.”
“Do they use their horns?”
“Yeah, but they don’t have to. They’ve got hard heads. On a charge, they can turn a pickup on its side.” He took a breath, and she felt the stroke of his hand on her back. “With a well-trained horse, they can be herded, but we don’t need to do that much.” He squeezed her. “I.B. isn’t trained for it.”
Liberty nodded.
He leaned back to make eye contact. “You’ll be careful.”
“I will be.”
“You remember how I feel about you.”
“I do.”
His horse shifted, maybe aware as she was of the way Tag stirred at those words. He kissed her, then kept his forehead touching hers. “Keep practicing that sentence. Short. Two words,” he told her between more kisses. “I’m going to want to hear them again.” His brown eyes peered deeply into hers. “In another set of circumstances. You be ready when the time comes.”
Chapter Four
Dinner with the three handsome Harper brothers was an interesting affair. Liberty had already seen the gruff-fond attitude Tag took toward Keegan. He was…gentler with Orion. A bit like he was walking on eggshells.
Orion was somewhat broody. He was just as big and muscled and handsome as his brothers—really, the three of them were exceptionally attractive. Without a bit of difficulty, Liberty could imagine any one of them as the next Marlboro man. But she could picture them as GQ models, too. Admittedly, her mind wandered during dinner, picturing them in Armani suits. Or board shorts. Or Speedos.
Keegan was the one who kept the conversation going as they ate, and Liberty could see that was his usual role. She learned he was serious about writing. He’d published several articles in Western magazines—she heard that from Tag, though, not from Keegan. From Keeg, she discovered that his major in college had been history with a focus on the Great Plains, which had left him with a deep understanding of the forces that had shaped human existence there. A love and respect for it, too.
He was very well-read in history, politics, and many genres of fiction. Including, in fact, plays. It turned out he’d done some acting in high school—their school had been tiny, he explained, one of those rural districts that could only field enough students for eight-man football. If a kid wanted to be on the team, he was on it. If he wanted to act, there was a part for him.
“You should have seen some of the cheerleaders,” Orion noted a bit sourly. “Our standards were very low.”
Keegan shot his brother a frown before returning his attention to Liberty. “In college, I took two semesters of playwriting.”
“Sweet,” Liberty told him.
“Tag says you write musicals.”
She nodded. “Not the book,” she told him. “Just the score.”
He grinned at her. “Just the hard part, you mean.”
Liberty lifted a shoulder. “I like music.”
She heard Tag’s huff and remembered where they’d met. Meeting his gaze, she read his opinion about her loose definition of “music.”
“You had one produced at DSA. Not bad,” Keegan said.
Tag’s eyes held hers steadily. Yeah, he’d talked with his brothers about her. He wasn’t denying it, or ashamed of it, either, his gaze was saying. Liberty was aware of the warm thrill that generated in her.
“Yes,” she told Keegan, reluctantly turning back to him. “That was fun.”
“Come to the living room,” he said. “Play me your take-home tune.”
The one every writer hoped the audience would go home humming. Not necessarily the writer’s favorite, but, well…they were all her favorite. “Play?” she asked.
Keegan shot a look at his oldest brother. “Yeah,” he told her. “We have a piano. Didn’t Tag show you?”
Liberty’s introduction to the house had pretty much been limited to Tag’s bedroom. She’d gotten a glimpse of just one portion of the living room as he’d carried her through it. And the terrace, because they were eating there, in the open air despite the mild chill. She eyed Tag again, knowing she was missing something unspoken. He looked back with that steady, accepting gaze. “How long have you had this piano?” She watched Tag as she asked the question but then turned to Keegan for the answer.
He quirked a slow grin at her. “Maybe…ten days.”
“Huh,” she said. Tag still wasn’t backing down, just keeping that calm gaze on her. “Sure,” she said, once more focusing on Keegan. “I’ll help with cleanup, first, though.”
“Then give me your tunestack?”
She smiled, figuring he’d get tired of listening well before the end of her whole playlist, but before she answered, Tag spoke.
“Cleanup is part of kitchen duty,” he said. “It’s Orion’s week.”
“Well,” she said, “I ate, and I’m not in the rotation, so I’ll help.”
“I’ll put you in the rotation,” Tag deadpanned. “How’s two weeks from now?”
Liberty met the challenge in his gaze only briefly before she looked at the middle brother. “Or do it all, if you like. It was a great dinner, Orion. Thank you.”
The meal had featured buffalo, that was true. Thin slices of perfectly grilled steaks had topped an already hearty green salad that contained goat cheese crumbles, artichoke hearts, dried cherries, and walnuts. The steak was a great addition though not the only highlight of the meal. He’d also filled the table with a bowl of the best cold potato salad Liberty had ever eaten, a plate of roasted red pepper and prosciutto bruschetta, and roasted eggplant in a balsamic marinade.
“I got it,” he said. “My job.”
“Still, I’ll help. I’d think you’d share the chores, so the one who cooks doesn’t have to clean.”
Orion’s shoulder lifted. “Cleanup for these two means brushing off the grill. Maybe scrubbing a serving plate for the baked potatoes or bowl for the beans. They think I make too big a mess.”
“They don’t seem to mind eating the food, though.”
Finally, she got a small smile. “Noticed that, did you?” He stood and started stacking dishes, and she followed with her own pile to the kitchen.
Like the rest of the house she’d seen, it was prettily done and, in addition, meant for cooking. The oven was under the center island, but the sink, cooktop, and work counters all faced out over the terrace, making the landscape a part of the space again. The cupboards, pantry, and refrigerator lined up in a wall that formed an ell. On the other side of that, she noted, were a small half bath and a large storage and utility room.
The rest of the living space was open, with the terrace windows in the front and stone fireplace and more windows to the back. With a towel in her hand, she looked it over.
Tag and Keegan had come—not quite empty-handed but carrying only their own plates and silverware—into the kitchen, where they’d helped themselves to a second beer each. Tag had gone with his to a large sofa upholstered in leather and Navaho-patterned wool. He kicked off the loafers he wore inside and had his bare feet up on a sturdy coffee table and a tablet in his lap.
Keegan had gone to the piano taking up pride of place near a back window and, oh, it was a lovel
y one. A grand piano, semi-concert size, sleek and finished in ebony. He ran his fingers playfully over the keys, and there was no mistaking the sound of it. Tag had bought her a Steinway.
If that didn’t make her fall in love, she didn’t know what would.
She looked at the man, all he would offer her, and knew she wasn’t going to be able to resist. He must have felt the weight of her regard and lifted his head to look back at her.
Nothing would stand in his way, his eyes told her. He wanted her here, on this land, in this home, with him. He would do whatever it took.
Liberty’s breath was unsteady, and she was slow to take the clean, wet copper pot that Orion was holding out for her. He waited patiently for her attention until it finally came back to him. “Sorry.” She took the pot but still looked over her shoulder at the piano. “Tag bought that for me.” It wasn’t exactly a question.
“Well,” Orion drawled. “Not that he ever said, exactly.”
She knew the truth of it. “That was very…sweet.”
Orion’s attention was back on the soapy water in the sink. “He seems to like you. He’s not going to want you to go back to Denver.”
She took a breath under the weight of that. Then another. “Wants me in that cooking rotation, eh?”
“Don’t know,” he drawled. “Can you cook?” He smiled again and made brief eye contact before he went on more seriously, his gaze on the dishes. “He’s seen both Keeg and me bring women to the ranch, and he knew it was a mistake both times. He doesn’t think you’re a mistake.”
“What happened with your wife and Keegan’s? They didn’t like the ranch?”
His smile was gone now, and his hands were busy in the sink. He looked at her again when he handed over a baking sheet to dry. “They didn’t like us, I think. At least, not well enough. I brought Kira here after we were married, but I knew right away it wouldn’t work for her. We’d met in Chicago, and she’d worked at a couple top restaurants there. We’ve got nothing around here to compare, not even in Cheyenne. Not even close. So I tried going back to Chicago with her, but that didn’t work, either.”
“For you? For her?”
“All of it, I guess.” He nodded over to the living room. “We’re close, the three of us. Probably more than most brothers.”
That didn’t surprise Liberty, not given what she’d seen of them and what she knew about their childhood. They’d had to depend on each other, and Tag was probably as much father to the younger two as older brother.
“Plus, we’re pretty attached to the land.”
Yeah. Liberty figured that was an understatement.
“It was hard for me to be away. Tag and Keegan didn’t like it, either. So—” He sighed and looked out the window. “Kira and I just couldn’t come to terms. I came back here, and we had lawyers take care of the details.”
Liberty wondered if that put Orion’s ownership of the ranch—or his part of it, if they’d divided it that way—in jeopardy, but she wasn’t brave enough to ask.
“Was it the same with Keegan’s wife?”
“Not exactly,” Orion said, and he looked at her with a bit of a smile. “Jilly didn’t mind living here. She didn’t have a career and not much motivation, either. Cute to start off with, but not a lot of depth. Didn’t even get herself worked into the cooking rotation. She was sweet and perky, but, after a few months, that rubbed even Keeg the wrong way. Only so long even he could be entertained watching her paint her toenails.”
“So, he what? Gave her the boot?”
“Well, not until she’d gotten real sweet and perky with a couple other cowboys at the Hangin’ J Bar.”
“Oh. Ouch.”
“Yeah. Well, live and learn.”
Liberty thought for some long minutes about what that all meant for the future she might have on the Chimney Bluff. And, maybe it wasn’t her business, but she knew what mattered to these men. “You were able to hold on to the land, with two divorces among you?”
“Yeah,” Orion said, pulling the plug from the sink. “Both of the women got some money, but, you know. Like all ranchers and farmers, we have a lot more wealth in land than we do in income. And, years back, Tag organized a trust for the land, so none of us technically owns a portion of it. It doesn’t become marital property.”
“Smart,” she said. They were right, to protect what meant so much to them.
He nodded as he took the towel from her and dried his hands. “Tag got a business degree. Taking over the ranch, pretty much raising the younger two of us, when he was just a kid himself. Still, he managed that.”
Orion’s dark brown hair was the shortest of the three, cut closely to his head. It accented the sharp angles of his face. Nothing to soften up those planes, like Tag’s and Keegan’s longer hair did for them. His eyes were a light honey-brown, though not the least soft. They were bright but guarded, watchful.
Keegan had accepted her on faith, she thought, trusting Tag’s assessment of her and taking her in with that open heart of his. Orion was much the opposite. Maybe it wasn’t personal, but he wasn’t a fan.
He nodded at her as he hung the towel along the oven handle to dry. “Thanks for your help.” He opened the refrigerator, took out a beer, and offered it up to her. She shook her head no.
He opened it and drank down a good third of it. “I’m goin’ outside for a bit.”
* * * *
Tag watched Liberty watch Orion slide open the door to the terrace and step outside. He could see she’d already found a place in her heart for that one, his…lonely brother.
He’d anticipated that Ry would be a problem, and he hadn’t been wrong. Still, he’d put his money on Liberty. He was sure she had a good, steady heart. That if he got her in, she would be all in, and eventually even Ry would succumb.
If he got her in.
As she turned, he put his gaze back on the tablet he’d been reading. Pretending to, anyway. He pretended some more, when, really, he’d have rather had eyes on as she walked over to him.
She’d changed clothes when they’d come back in after their ride. He’d dropped her at the house and then taken the horses to put them up. She’d have gone with him, shared that chore, because that was who she was. He’d turned down her offer at the time, not wanting to put too much on her too soon. Yeah, the ranch was full of work that never ended, but he wanted to treat her like a guest for at least a little while.
He’d regretted it later, though, when he rode the four-wheeler back to the house from the barn. She was out on the terrace with Keeg already, looking fresh and pretty as the prairie after a June rain. He’d leaned in to kiss her and gotten the scent of her that told him she’d showered. Then she’d dressed in a sort of wrap top, long-sleeved, deeply vee’d, and tightly fit. She wore a soft skirt that went nearly to her ankles, loose and flimsy enough that he could see, even as she sat with Keeg, that it would drape over the curves of her long body. She had bare feet tucked into ballet flats and a shawl around her arms for warmth.
He’d have surely loved to watch all that happen—the undressing, the showering, the getting done up again.
Well, he’d have more chances, he determined, and he’d take care to not miss many of them.
He was guessing the piano had bought him major points. He’d seen her eyes linger on it as she’d been helping Ry out.
She came to him now and confirmed it. She stood next to him, facing him, and pressed her knee against his until he looked up at her.
“That’s an awful lot of piano,” she said, her eyes warm, “for way out here. For just one person to use.”
He lifted a brow. “You don’t want it? Guess I could send it back.”
She nudged his knee. “Of course I want it. But it belongs in a concert hall.”
“Well,” he said. “Since I wrote the check for it, I think it belongs right here.”
“Thank you,” she said, and he really, really liked what he saw in her eyes. “But it’s way too much.”
“Ca
n you make pretty music on it?” he asked. “Will it make you happy?”
She smiled and bumped his knee again. Then she walked over and firmly nudged Keeg off the bench. She lifted the seat, took a look, and smiled again at him in appreciation and…not surprise. He’d stocked it with sheet music and, relying on expert advice from the dude he’d talked to on the phone, had mixed some classical piano pieces in among the show tunes.
Taking a look through all of it, she eventually settled on something and opened it up on the music rack above the keyboard. He comprehended that Beethoven and Mozart had known their way around a piano, but Tag was very happy when she started to play and he recognized…the Star Wars theme. She grinned, and he understood that the Steinway passed muster.
Entirely entertained, he sat and appreciated the moment—long moments, as she played while the sun set and then even longer after that. Keeg stood at her side and turned pages for her, and Tag knew that Ry hadn’t gone wandering the land as he often did in the evening but had stayed out on the terrace, his big shoulders leaning against the window—almost in, but not quite.
She turned serious—classical—about it after Star Wars, and even Tag recognized Für Elise. Then…his girl could do honky-tonk, and rock, and jazz, which wasn’t his favorite. Keeg got his way in the end, and she played and sang a couple of her own songs.
Tag was no expert, for sure, but he was impressed, even though he hadn’t expected not to be. Her music was lighthearted, cheerful, and hopeful. He gleaned it was a story of teen angst, from broken hearts to acne. She sang a lament about SAT scores called “400” that had him laughing out loud. By the second round of the chorus, Keeg was grinning and singing along with her.
Liberty had a pretty, soothing, alto voice. It played sweetly with Keeg’s baritone. Tag hadn’t really thought anything could work her deeper into his heart, but watching and listening to her sing did it. Then Keeg elbowed her off the bench and took over the score. “Get over here, Tag,” he said. “Show us the choreography, Lib.”
Three Men and a Woman: Liberty (Siren Publishing Menage Amour) Page 5
