Rough Stock

by Dahlia West

  Rowan pulled on Seth’s jacket and then unlocked the small closet in the kitchen.

  Willow watched in fascination as Rowan loaded the Winchester rifle, better than the shotgun for this kind of work. She slid in a handful of cartridges and hoped she wouldn’t need more.

  Or even one.

  She thumbed the tang safety button and shouldered it with the padded strap. “Just in case, baby,” she told Willow. “Just in case.”

  Outside, Rowan opened the dog run and let the pack out just as a truck turned into the driveway.

  Seth pulled up in front of the house, apparently comfortable with the dogs at this point, because he only cautiously opened the driver’s side door before lowering himself to the ground.

  “Don’t shoot. I brought another peace offering,” he said, handing her a thermos.

  Rowan took it, unscrewed the top and inhaled deeply. A rich, dark roast warmed her senses.

  “I thought maybe it was my turn to bring the coffee,” Seth told her.

  “Oh,” she breathed. “You’re a saint.” When she glanced up at him, Seth had a strange look on his face. “What?” Rowan asked.

  “Nothing,” he told her. “I’m just not a saint.”

  Rowan smiled at him. “You fed my sheep, you fixed my gate, you brought me coffee. You’ve done more for me in just a few days than anyone has…well…ever. That’s a saint in my book.”

  He didn’t seem to have an answer to that. He just sipped his own coffee as the morning light grew brighter around them.

  Rowan wasn’t certain what he was doing here, but she was happy to see him, just the same. “There were wolves last night,” she said.

  He nodded. “Yeah, I heard them at our place, too.” He eyed the rifle on her back. “Expecting trouble today? Because Court’s asleep and probably will be until lunch.”

  She snorted. “I’m going to check the fence line on the north side. I think it’s been a while since Dad did it.”

  Seth glanced at Willow and the three dogs circling her. “And Willow?”

  “I can’t leave her here alone, and it’s days’ worth of work. I can’t wait for Emma and Troy. She’ll have to come. She knows the rules. We talked about it.”

  Seth considered it for a moment, then nodded as though Rowan had asked for permission. Finally he said, “We taking the dogs with us?”

  Rowan paused. “We?” she asked.

  “You’re not going out there alone,” Seth declared. “Even with that rifle.”

  “Our spread’s not as large as yours, Seth. It’s less than a mile one way, and—”

  “Why are you arguing what’s settled?”

  Rowan closed her mouth and held her thermos in her hands. Everything was easier with someone else around, and she’d be a fool to push away his offer of help, even though it made her feel guilty, like she was taking advantage of his generosity without giving him anything in return. Which reminded her she did have something, though it wasn’t much by comparison.

  “Here.” She reached into the jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of gloves.

  Seth took them but frowned. “These aren’t mine.”

  She blushed. “I…got them for you,” she replied, feeling silly now. “Yours had a hole in them.”

  “Yeah, I don’t have time to get to town, except to the feed store for Dakota, and I always seem to forget to pick up a pair when I’m there.”

  Rowan grimaced. “And now you’re here, wasting time walking my fence line.”

  “It’s not wasted time, Rowan. It’s work that needs to be done.”

  “But it’s not your job to do it.”

  “It is if I say it is. Your dad is a good neighbor, Rowan. He’d do this for us if we needed it, I’m sure.”

  “Right,” Rowan replied, turning away to check on Willow. “I’ll tell him how much you’ve helped.”

  They started off, three humans, three dogs, and entered the paddock that ran for nearly a square mile over the hills and valleys of Lincoln County. They followed the triple-barbed wire with a view of the Tetons miles away in the distance. The purple morning sky was streaked with gold.

  “Look, Mama! Look how pretty!”

  Rowan smiled, glad that her daughter would spend the rest of her childhood in paradise.

  Up ahead, the top wire had come loose from one of the posts. Seth stopped to reattach it, and Rowan was struck by his competence in farm work, which made sense, but it was nice to see someone other than Dad and Emma in action. It felt like maybe she wasn’t alone in keeping the place going.

  As she watched him work, Rowan discovered that she was tired, so very tired, of feeling alone.

  They continued on, up one hill and down the next. The snow had melted in some places, revealing large patches of brown grass. Next month it would grow green and lush and be dotted with splashes of purple, yellow, and pink from the wildflowers. If Rowan closed her eyes, she could see it in her mind’s eye. She could practically smell the blooms in the fresh, clean air now. When she opened her eyes, she found Seth looking at her curiously.

  “Some people only smell the sheep when they visit,” she explained. “But…I smell—”

  “Spring in the air. The lavender will be up soon.”

  Rowan grinned at him. “I’ve never known a man who liked flowers.”

  “I like everything beautiful.” His gaze was suddenly penetrating, and Rowan felt heat creep across her face.

  Rowan stopped first then Seth beside her. Ahead of them, in a patch of as-yet unmelted snow, footprints had iced over, temporarily fossilized until the noonday sun hit it.

  “You’re keeping the flock locked up at night, right?” Seth asked quietly.

  Rowan nodded. “The dogs, too.”

  “Good.”

  Willow shrieked happily and darted across the path. Her pink rubber boots obliterated most of the tracks, except for a few. Kinka’s huge paw, thankfully, dwarfed the print by comparison. He sniffed the ground and growled low in his throat.

  “Chase me!” Willow demanded to him, not understanding that the game had changed.

  “Go on,” Rowan told the dog, nodding at the girl. She adjusted the rifle on her back, just in case.

  They resumed the trek, Rowan scanning the ground for more prints. She almost didn’t realize they’d come upon one of the only trees on their property. The plains cottonwood was huge, hundreds of years old. As they approached, the light section of the bark came sharper into focus. Carved into the trunk were initials, going back decades. MA + BA, Mac and Beverly, Mom and Dad. Her grandparents were there, as well as Emma and Troy.

  The last pair was scratched out—gouged out, really. In anger, with tears. Rowan remembered the hollow ache in her chest that day. Her own initials were still mostly visible because she’d been so intent on erasing Court from her life, out of their lives. Standing next to Seth, who was inspecting the marks, Rowan felt her cheeks pinken. She cleared her throat and turned away. “I was young,” she said, by way of explanation. “And stupid. Back when I thought…well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I’m okay. Willow’s all I need.”

  Seth moved in front of her, shielding her from the fierce sun as he gazed down at her. “But is she all you want?” he asked in his quiet way.

  “Is Snake River all you want?”

  He didn’t answer, but she thought she could see a longing pass through his eyes. She only recognized it because she’d seen herself in the mirror sometimes, on days when things got a little too hard.

  Instead, he asked, “Do you…are you seeing anyone?”

  Rowan sighed and shook her head. “No, not right now. I date sometimes, but, you know, Willow comes first, nursing comes second, and—”

  “And you’d never even think about letting someone else help you shoulder some of those responsibilities,” Seth concluded. “Except me. I’m happy to help,” he added quickly. “If only so you don’t shoot my little brother.”

  Rowan found herself wondering if Court would always be betwee
n them. She forced herself to turn away, because it wasn’t fair to Seth to even begin to think about him that way.

  They walked the rest of the way in silence back to the house, side by side, though, arms brushing occasionally. Rowan hadn’t felt so electrified by a man’s proximity since high school. Since Court.

  Seth picked up Willow and set her on his shoulders so she didn’t have to walk back. At the house, he put her down on her feet again, and she scrambled up the steps with the dogs chasing after her.

  Rowan groaned. “Don’t let the dogs—”

  But it was too late. The door opened and closed, and three large Great Pyrenees disappeared inside. Probably tracking mud on the rug and all over the floor. Rowan didn’t want to picture the couch when they were done.

  “Too late,” said Seth with a grin.

  Rowan sighed. “Just more to clean.”

  The sun was out, but it hadn’t taken the edge off the chill. Rowan still felt guilty. Warm, but guilty. She reached up for the zipper on the borrowed jacket. “I seem to always forget to give this back to you.”

  Before she could take it off, he covered her hands with his own, and Rowan was surprised but found herself not wanting to pull away. “It’s cold out here, Rowan,” he said softly. “Leave it on.”

  Her heart hammered away in her chest, and she was finding it harder and harder to breathe easily. “It’s just a few feet to the front door,” she argued.

  He looked down at her with those liquid dark eyes. “That’s not the point,” he whispered, leaning in.

  His mouth was dangerously close. He smelled like the cold, spring air, and musk, totally male. His cheeks were rough with new stubble, and his lips were wine dark and far too tempting.

  Rowan couldn’t stop herself from licking her own lips. “You called me darlin’,” she said quietly, “at The Spur. And you asked me to dance.”

  “I did, didn’t I? I didn’t recognize you. You’re not the skinny, knock-kneed little girl I remember.”

  Knock-kneed? No. Weak-kneed? Hell yes.

  “Mama, hot chocolate!” Willow called from the porch.

  Rowan never took her eyes off Seth. “Do you want to stay? For hot chocolate?”

  He searched her face, and Rowan held her breath. “I can’t,” he finally said and turned away.

  Rowan watched him walk back to his truck, open the door, and slide in behind the wheel. And though he hadn’t stayed, she couldn’t help thinking that maybe things had changed.

  Or perhaps it was just wishful thinking.

  He didn’t wave to her, or honk, or acknowledge her in any way as he pulled out, and so she turned back to the house, cursing herself for being so ridiculous.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‡

  Seth woke up early, while it was still dark out, and tried to revive himself in the shower. It was only marginally successful. He dressed quickly and had just enough time to grab one of Sofia’s biscuits before saddling up Choctaw and meeting everyone else out front to start the day.

  Court was driving the ATV they were going to use to pull the hay bales to the herd now that most of the snow had melted. The sound of the engine drowned out any complaints he no doubt had about being up this early and having to do actual work. Seth thought that was a good thing, because the less time he spent with his youngest brother, the better. He must not have been the only one trying to avoid conflict. Austin and Walker were apparently only communicating in a series of grunts, and even then only when absolutely necessary.

  Gabe rolled his eyes at all of them.

  It was probably easier to just have a sister. Even if that sister had a whip-smart mouth and a fiery disposition.

  It was a twenty-minute ride to the herd, and Seth had hoped for a quick drop-off of the feed and then back to the homestead, but one of the cows was lowing intermittently. Seth lowered himself from his saddle and approached her slowly. She was swollen in all the usual places.

  “Sawyer,” he called. “Give me a loop. She’s calving.”

  “Where’s yours?” Sawyer asked.

  Seth glared at him and held out his hand. “Just give it here.”

  Sawyer unfastened his rope from his saddle and threw it to Seth.

  “Well, you’re a little bit early, darlin’,” Seth told her as he slipped the reata over her head.

  “Way too early,” Austin growled.

  Seth looked up at him, puzzled. “Only by a couple of weeks,” he replied. “She’s obviously Sampson’s favorite.” Indeed, if she was dropping early, their prized bull had seeded her first when he’d been let out with the herd in June.

  “No, she’s a hell of a lot earlier than that,” Austin snapped and turned his horse away.

  “I feel like I’m missing something,” Seth said to Sawyer as he climbed back up into the saddle and tied the reata to the horn. “A whole lot of somethings.”

  The two of them watched as Austin circled the herd, putting as much distance between himself and his irascible twin as possible. Seth and Sawyer turned their horses toward home, leading the cow along behind them.

  “Late-season calving,” Sawyer said quietly when they were far enough away from everyone else.

  Seth turned to look at him with surprise. He vaguely remembered, a few years ago, that Austin had wanted to try it. He’d predicted that that coming winter would be bad, and it had been. And then the next. And then the next. Dad had believed him each time but still hadn’t wanted to risk taking out a loan for a larger piece of land required for the extra feeding. Dad never wanted the bank to get even a toehold on Snake River. The Barlows had owned it outright for almost seventy-five years.

  Winter after winter, beef prices soared because so many ranchers were losing so many heads. But there had been no money for the Barlows to take advantage of the market.

  Seth shook his head. “But we still don’t have the extra land to—”

  Sawyer looked at him like he was a few bricks shy of a load.

  Seth groaned and closed his eyes for a moment. “That’s what the money’s for. The money Austin wants.”

  Sawyer snorted. “Took you long enough. You need a nap, bro. A nice, long nap, and wake up in the middle of summer. Fresh as a daisy.”

  “I wish,” Seth grumbled then gazed to the north, toward the mountains in the distance. “A silver mine,” he mused.

  “Yep,” replied Sawyer. “There’s hay in them thar hills. If Austin can grow it. If the mining operation didn’t fuck up the nutrients in the soil before they tapped out the silver.”

  “Did they?”

  Sawyer’s nose wrinkled. “Survey says…maybe not.”

  Seth raised his eyebrows at his younger brother. “Maybe not?”

  Sawyer shrugged. “Land only went up for sale two months ago. And the ground’s frozen. One soil test came back encouraging, for our purposes anyway. The other two were inconclusive. But someone’s probably going to buy it. And soon, if we don’t. Miners will come sniffing around for mineral rights after the thaw. If their tests look good…well…we can’t outbid them. But they won’t lay down the money first, not without those test results.”

  “But Austin wants us to lay down money without them. And if the spring thaw comes in and the ground’s contaminated…”

  Sawyer frowned. “Then we lost most of Dad’s insurance money. On the other hand, it was only going to last us another few years if we couldn’t start turning a profit again anyway.”

  Seth blew out a harsh breath. “So, go broke now or go broke later.”

  “If we go broke. Maybe it’s time, Seth. Maybe it’s our time again.”

  Or maybe Snake River was over and the howls from the foothills at night were just scavengers waiting to feast on their corpses.

  “I can see why Walker’s reluctant to go for it,” Seth declared.

  Sawyer snorted. “He doesn’t even know about it. Austin only got as far as ‘silver mine for sale,’ and Walker lost his mind. It’s not helping that Walker’s still raw about Dakot
a and Austin spending so much damn time together.”

  Seth ignored his brother’s furtive looks and nudged Choctaw to keep leading the cow toward home. Sawyer took the hint, and they walked in silence the rest of the way, until the cow balked just when they were in sight of the homestead. Choctaw tried to pull her along, but she refused to walk a single step farther.

  Seth swung down out of his saddle and, with the reata, hauled her the last few feet into the paddock. He closed the gate tightly, but before he could climb back over, he caught sight of a hoof peeking out from underneath the cow’s tail. “God damn it,” he muttered. Then he sighed and took off his gloves, passing them over the top of the fence. “Take these,” he growled at Sawyer.

  He stalked over to the soon-to-be mother as she lowed and dropped slowly to the ground.

  “Do you need a hook?” Sawyer called out to him.

  “Too late,” Seth replied. He dropped to his knees in the freshly spread straw they’d prepared for the calving season. He rolled up his sleeves and grasped the hoof, giving it a long, slow pull. “Come on, Mama,” he encouraged gently. “Give me a push. Help me out, now.”

  She did, and the tiny nose protruded. Seth cradled the head as the rest of the slicked body slid out, and he carefully lowered the unmoving newborn onto the soft bedding. The cow lumbered to her feet to attend to her baby, and Seth moved out of the way since she’d do a better job than he probably could. He waited, though, nearby, until the stunned calf responded to his mother’s ministrations.

  Confident mother and baby were safe, Seth put his boot on the steel gate and lifted his leg over. He ran ice-cold water over his hands and arms at the spigot then discovered that Choctaw had found his own way to his stall. The horse was munching happily on his morning oats, waiting for Seth to take off his saddle and bridle.

  It wasn’t even sunset, yet it felt as though he’d already put in a full day’s work. He shut in his horse and made his way to the barn door but didn’t get any farther than that. He leaned against the frame, only for a moment, only to close his eyes for one second. He wondered if he could fall asleep standing up, like a damn cow. He doubted it. He grudgingly opened them again when he heard boots scuffing on the concrete floor. He turned to see Sawyer walking toward him, thumbs in his belt loops.