Rough Stock

by Dahlia West

  Seth opened the door enough to let the dog head downstairs and snuck into the room on sock feet to pull up the blanket over Willow’s sleeping form. He leaned down and brushed his lips over her cool forehead, careful not to wake her. Someday, of course, there would be questions, so many questions, about dads and stepdads who were really uncles, and it would all be a little complicated, but Seth didn’t care. He loved Willow. And she loved him. And they both loved Court.

  It would work itself out as long as they all wanted it to.

  At the front door, he let Kinka out and pulled on his boots. He snagged two thermoses from the counter, filled them, and left. Outside, it was chilly, but the sun breaking over the horizon against a clear, bright sky told Seth, even without Austin’s uncanny ability, that it would be a good-weather day.

  He fed all three dogs and left their gate open so they could join him at the pasture’s gate. Seth opened it for them, and the three guard dogs yipped with glee as they sped off to find the small portion of the Barlow herd that they enjoyed protecting. The cows had gotten used to their canine companions, and there was little lowing in the field to announce their incoming charge.

  In the barn, Seth found his future father-in-law laying down feed for the small but apparently growing menagerie of pets. He saw Seth and put down the feed bag, taking the offered thermos of hot coffee.

  “I’ll fix the leaning post on the western side on my way to Snake River,” Seth told him.

  Mac nodded. “Sounds good. Tractor blew a fuse, and it’ll take me all day to get in there and replace the damn thing.”

  Seth nodded in turn, grateful he didn’t have to be in two places at once.

  Mac stuck a finger in the bunny cage and gave the little guy an ear rub.

  “It’s different,” said Seth, because neither of them were the type of men to just ignore an elephant.

  “Yeah, it is,” said Mac, but he didn’t sound unhappy. Not at all. “Different but good,” the old man declared, nodding to the livestock. “Pair of sheep, pair of cows, pair of horses, and a rabbit,” Mac grunted. “Seems like enough work for any man my age. And she’ll be up in a few hours.”

  Mac’s eyes twinkled as he spoke. Seth knew the man loved his long days with his granddaughter. He had five years to catch up on, and Mac Archer was loving every minute of it. “We’re going fishing,” Mac declared.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  The old man nodded. “Can’t have her just watching that Spongeboob all day.”

  Seth laughed. “No, we can’t have that. I’ll bring some of Sofia’s tortillas back tonight. We’ll have fish tacos.”

  “Well,” Mac said, draining his thermos. “Sounds like we got a plan. We got work to do.”

  He set off for his tractor, and Seth set about saddling up Choctaw, who was reluctant to leave Rafaela, the mare. Seth led him to her stall for a morning nuzzle then swung up into the saddle. He left the Archer place and headed for Snake River, thermos in hand, horse on a loose rein.

  Kinka, Jory, and Kono barked when they saw him but didn’t leave their self-appointed posts at the far end of the range, putting themselves between the herd and any predators that might come down out of the mountains.

  The trek was short and easy, only a mile to work each and every day, and honestly, Seth was glad to make the commute on horseback. How many men could say they did that? He’d trade his Ford for Choctaw any day.

  When he reached the homestead, he tied Choctaw to the old hitching post outside the Big House and headed inside for breakfast. He found everyone gathered at the large table, Sawyer and Court fighting over biscuits, Austin and Walker sitting with their heads together, going over a set of documents. Even Gabe gave him a nod, and Seth was glad that things had gotten mostly back to normal. Though as he glanced at the two empty chairs at either end of the table, he realized normal wasn’t the word. Not normal, but manageable. Things had become manageable. And that was all right with him.

  Epilogue

  ‡

  Seth held Choctaw by the reins as Willow pet the horse on the shoulder.

  “Can I come?” she asked, but Seth shook his head. “Aww,” she protested.

  Rowan bent and lifted the girl into her arms, out of the way of the nearby horse’s hooves.

  “Not this time, sweetheart,” Seth told her. “But while I’m gone, Pop-Pop and Mama are going to saddle up Caramel and let you ride, okay?”

  The little girl’s excited squeal convinced Seth that buying the pony had been a good idea.

  Rowan leaned in, hugging Seth with her free arm. Seth wrapped his arms around both of them and squeezed.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Rowan whispered.

  But again Seth shook his head. “No. You stay here. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

  He gave Willow a tweak on the nose and swung his leg up into the saddle. Mac gave him a solemn wave.

  The ride was easy but far. Seth had brought his rifle along just in case he ran into trouble, but looking around, he saw nothing but rolling hills, high mountains, and lush green grass. He and Choctaw passed the homestead, turned to the river, and kept their steady pace. Down into Goodman’s Gulch, they finally came to the right place, and Seth dismounted, setting the reins on the saddle horn and letting Choctaw pick at the grass.

  On his knees, under a tree, Seth pushed a spade into the earth and lifted dark, fertile chunks out of the ground in front of him. When it was deep enough, he stood, walked back to Choctaw, and pulled a heavy stone cross out of the horse’s saddlebag. He carried it to the hole and slid the base into the loamy, hollowed earth.

  Carved in script on the marker’s arms were Rafe and Manny’s names, two friends who’d lived and died together on this rugged, open land. Both men had graves in town, in the Catholic cemetery next to Saint Joseph’s, but Seth was convinced this was where they’d rather be and surely where they’d rather be remembered.

  The graves were for the family, but this was for the men themselves, the men who’d sacrificed themselves so that all of them could go on.

  He took a long look, but by no means a last one. Seth had lived on this land and worked it from the time he could ride a horse. He’d pass by the marker on his way through the Gulch, on his way to the Ridge, on his way to Pike’s Point maybe, though he’d only been that high a few times in his life. There was no forgetting these men. They’d never be out of sight or out of mind.

  He turned and headed the few yards down to the Snake River. Choctaw followed, loyal trail horse that he was, without having to be led. Seth stopped near the water’s edge and unbuckled the counterweight bag, dumping the multicolored river stones back onto the bank that was visible now that the spring runoff had fully receded. The sun was rising over the far side of the east bank. A riot of pinks, golds, blues, and purples spilled across the sky, matching the hues of the stones beneath his boots.

  This was his land, left to him by his father, and his legacy, left to him by his ancestors, all of whom, Seth felt, were gathered around him now. If he closed his eyes, he could hear their whispers in the sound of the water running past.

  Destiny. Legacy. Family.

  Seth Barlow had it all now…and he was never letting go.

  THE END

  Available May 1st!

  WRANGLER (STAR VALLEY Book Two)

  Sawyer Barlow is the family goof-off. Never one to take life too seriously, he works hard but prefers roping and riding—fillies and women—and he does both any chance he gets.

  A drunken bet sets his sights on Cassidy Conroy, Star Valley’s prissy little b…beauty queen. She’s rich and spoiled and thinks she’s too good for a Barlow. He’s not interested in chasing her too far, but he’ll knock boots with her for one tequila-fueled night with a hundred bucks on the line.

  Cassidy is on a mission, unfortunately, and one she’d rather abandon altogether. A Barlow is making eyes at her from across a pool table, but it’s the wrong brother. Sawyer’s cute and funny, though, and she sur
e could use the good time he’s promising her. She should say no. Her daddy will kill her, but when he turns that dark Barlow gaze on her, all bets are off.

  A one-night stand turns into a desperate plea for help when a brutal betrayal hits Cassidy hard. Broken and bruised with nowhere to go, she ends up in the one place she was trying to get away from—the Snake River Ranch.

  Sawyer is shocked when she turns up at his door, but his sense of honor won’t let him turn her away. The others are suspicious of her motives, but Sawyer thinks he sees a side to her that no one else can.

  Days at Snake River are hard for Cassidy as she tries—and fails—to find her place on the ranch and in life. But nights in Sawyer’s bed set her blood on fire. Sawyer’s a wrangler through and through, and no one is more surprised than Cassidy when he lassoes her heart.

  But as old Kit Barlow used to say, Truth Will Out. Cassidy’s secrets are revealed, and the mismatched couple has to decide whether what they have is real or just a good time gone too far.