by Tori Kayson
Sweat dampened his forehead and trickled down his back. He took a few more breaths until they evened out then tested his muscles by stretching back to his full height. He dug into the plastic box of supplies, pulled out the ibuprofen. He dumped four onto his palm and popped them into his open mouth, swallowed.
There. Along with the exercises, the pain killers should knock this in the bud. The last thing he needed was to be out of commission right now.
He snatched the towel and swabbed the plate. How had that conversation spiraled out of control so fast? That wasn’t the ending he’d hoped for—
“Don’t be so hard on the dish. We don’t have many extras.” Fargo’s deep voice startled him.
He fumbled with the plate, somehow managed to snag it before it plunked to the ground, biting back a wince when his back rebelled. “Sorry.”
Chuckling, Fargo scanned the area. His thick eyebrows melded together. “First the cooking. Now Kierra sticks you with the dishes?” He angled around to go hunt down his sister.
“No need, Fargo. Kierra just left, and she did all the washing, so it’s my turn. I could use a little alone time anyway.” Not really. But afterward would be the perfect opportunity to sneak away for a few minutes. He didn’t want all of camp gawking at him while he sweated and huffed, contorting his body into weird shapes to banish the cramping. And then he’d call Cody.
Fargo studied him, a scowl darkening his features until he finally nodded, his head pointed toward Kierra’s cabin. “All right. But I’m not happy with how this arrangement’s working out so far.”
If Hawk was the boss, he wouldn’t be happy, either. Especially if Hawk couldn’t get out of bed tomorrow. “I’ll work on it.”
“You’re doing all you can. That’s obvious.” Fargo blew out a sigh. “I’ll talk to my sister again. See if that’ll help.”
He’d rather eat a live frog than for Fargo to scold Kierra, but what choice did he have? Fargo was his employer. “Could you give me another chance to talk to her first?”
Fargo studied Hawk, regret lining his mouth. “I hired you for this round up with the stipulation that if things went well, you could stay on afterward. We’ll have plenty of work to keep you busy. But if Kierra’s not comfortable with the arrangement…”
“Gotcha. So I should pack my things?” Hawk held his breath. Didn’t dare let it out or take in fresh. Too painful. And not just for his back.
“Not yet.”
He nodded, inhaling. Not yet. Not very comforting words, especially when he hoped to sink roots in Coldwater Ridge, but at least he wasn’t out of a job tonight.
Emotion lumped like a thick pile of mud in his throat. How could he call Cody now? What would he tell the boy when Cody asked how things were going? He knew his son would ask, it was only a matter of what point in the phone call, probably right off. Cody was just as invested in staying as Hawk.
“Appreciate it, boss.”
“Yeah. I know. Just wish my sister did.”
He couldn’t help wishing the same, but that would never happen. He might as well pack his bags.
8
“Take care. See you back at the ranch in a few days.” Kierra waved at Uncle Chips and Hank, the other ranch hand assigned to haul the rig loaded with cattle to auction. Their guests would herd the remainder of the cattle to their winter pasture as part of their vacation package.
Uncle Chips leaned out the driver’s side window, his peppered gray eyebrows waggling like a furry caterpillar, the grin taking up most of his leathery face. His hat covered the rest. “Can’t say I’m sorry to leave since all your people showed up, Missy. Leastways it’ll be much quieter sleeping with only Hank in my room tonight.” Uncle Chips waved then accelerated. The big truck lurched forward with its trailer of cargo jostling behind.
She watched the trailer bump along the dirt road, the low hanging branches pinging off the sides, until the brake lights glowed and the turn signal flickered. Uncle Chips had been alone for a few months now working on the bunkrooms. He looked relieved and happy to be leaving, ramming the horn a couple playful times as the rig negotiated the turn onto the highway, the engine straining as the gears shifted.
She smiled. Her uncle was a lot like her brother in his desire for privacy. Fargo was crankier than an ornery bull when the ranch swarmed with people for an extended period of time. Not her. She enjoyed showing off her beloved property.
The engine’s whining faded, leaving her alone with Charcoal. She untied the reins from the branch where she’d attached them. “You’re a good girl. The best friend a gal could have. You know that?” She scratched Charcoal’s neck. “Guess it’s time to head back. What do you think? You ready?”
Charcoal snorted and nudged her hip.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” Chuckling, she hiked a leg over the horse and settled into the saddle, the leather creaking with her weight.
A soft breeze drifted by, kissing her cheeks and riffling the leaves on nearby trees, the oranges and golds shimmering in the late morning light like jewels. She breathed in the smells of East Texas, soil and nature and the scent of cattle even though they were a few minutes’ ride away. She could even hear the faint sounds of egrets calling.
How could Sterling not see what she loved about the remoteness of the ranch? No traffic. No noise except nature and…chopper rotors?
Frowning, she jerked her head in the direction of the racket.
Hawk. Again! What was he doing clear over here? The guests lingered a mile or so away along with the rest of the herd. He didn’t need to worry about her.
She rolled her eyes and gave her head a little shake. Like Hawk was worried about her. Fargo probably sent him to check the status of the truck. Or to check up on her.
Whichever. She didn’t want the man flying overhead. Just hearing the rotors spiked her pulse, sparked her heart to racing, and set her nerves on edge. Made her conjure up his defeated posture from last night. When she’d turned back for one last look from the safety of her bunkroom. She’d seen the slumped shoulders, the palms planted on the counter, the bowed head, the pained expression.
She couldn’t let it get to her. He took her mind off what she was here to do and that was to provide her guests with an unforgettable experience.
She lifted her arm, brandishing it through the air in a “get back to business” wave, satisfied when the chopper made a hard right.
Right? She would’ve headed north, left. Or was north right?
Maybe Fargo hadn’t sent Hawk after all. Maybe the cowboy remembered that she was somewhat directionally challenged.
Smiling, she clicked and nudged the paint with her heels. “Yah. Let’s go.”
If not for the chopper, she likely would’ve wasted a half hour to sort out her mistake and backtrack. The breeze from the cantor cooled the embarrassment heating her cheeks and in just under five minutes, she was back in the frenzy of riders and cattle.
“What a surprise. You’re back and I didn’t even have to send the bird after you.” Fargo, sitting atop Majesty, nudged his hat up, showing off the dirt smudging his cheeks.
So that answered that question. Hawk had come looking for her on his own. She made a mental note to thank the chopper cowboy later.
“Did Uncle Chips and Hank get off okay?” Fargo asked.
“Yep. Uncle Chips was happier than a bull breaking into the heifer pasture to be leaving this crowd.”
Fargo threw back his head and laughed, something hearty and joyful. It was so good to hear her brother laugh. For so many years, the joy had literally drained from his spirit. Marriage to Darby was good for him.
“Where do you want me?” she asked.
“How about the west quadrant? Shake things up a bit. Your editor collects females like that bull you were just talking about.”
“Does he now?” She didn’t understand that. Especially when her brother and Hawk were around.
“Yeah. I don’t want to lose any cattle because they’re not paying attent
ion.”
She didn’t either. No matter that she dreamed of building their business into something more than just a working cattle ranch, beef equated to money. “No problem. We’ll take care of them. See you at lunch.” She clicked to her horse and moved into position.
Fargo was right. Two women rode on either side of Sterling. Lucky their denim jeans didn’t catch fire from all the friction of thighs rubbing together, the sun’s unusually hot rays penetrating in laser-like precision. Both smiling faces tipped toward Sterling, totally enraptured with whatever the editor was saying. And Sterling ate up the adoration. Not one of the three had a clue about where they were on the range or what was going on around them.
Fargo, Hawk, and the ranch hands could manage the cattle, but someone had to warn this trio that distractions out here could be dangerous.
Just then, Candy Cane snorted and pranced, fear bristling. The female rider held on while another guest pointed and screamed, “Snake!”
Uh oh. She nudged Charcoal to pick up speed.
Candy Cane reared, almost unseating her passenger as the frightened horse came down and stomped at the ground a couple times, bolted.
Kierra urged her horse faster. Charcoal lengthened her strides, but Candy Cane had a healthy head start. The spooked horse made a sharp right turn and Kierra caught a glimpse of the rider.
Fear made huge white marbles of Katherine’s eyes. The reins hung limp while both hands covered the saddle horn, the woman’s rump bouncing awkwardly in the saddle. If Katherine couldn’t get the horse under control, she would take a serious tumble.
“Pull back on the reins,” Kierra shouted.
“I caaannn’t!”
Fargo was right. The thought flicked through Kierra’s brain, lightning fast. He’d been trying to warn her of an incident like this from the beginning. Katherine was going to fall off, break an arm or a leg or maybe her back. She’d sue. They’d lose the ranch, their heritage.
Her dreams.
Not if she could help it!
“Yaw!” Kierra urged Charcoal to give it everything she had, and her girl delivered, finally pulling alongside the runaway. Even with the tail then thigh-to-thigh.
She leaned over, digging her boot heels into the stirrups, straining, stretching out every inch, vaguely registering the thunder of hooves coming from behind them and the chopper circling above. But the reins. Just. Out. Of. Reach.
Sweat soaked her palms and trickled down her forehead, blurring her vision. Everything burned, muscles, eyes. Stretched more. Almost.
There! She snagged the leather reins and yanked, but Candy Corn veered left toward a band of trees. No way would both horses fit side-by-side.
This wouldn’t end well.
Clenching her jaw, Kierra reached for Candy Cane’s horn. She loosened her thighs from around Charcoal, and her horse trotted off without her. Tree branches slapped her as she dangled from the still frightened horse. Sweat loosened her grip around the saddle horn, and she felt herself slip.
Oh, no.
No strength left. Only one way to go. Down.
****
“There you go, sweetheart. You got her. You got her.” Hawk pumped his fist and circled the drama playing out below for at least the tenth time, thankful that Cody wasn’t riding shotgun in the cockpit to hear the curse word that slipped from his lips when Kierra took off after the frightened horse. Or the frantic rhythm of his heart, pounding like mad against his chest. Or to glimpse the fear that coiled and twisted his gut into a tight wad of worry.
Why hadn’t she let Fargo handle the runaway horse?
His angle was wrong, and he lost the pair of riders. He circled, maneuvering the chopper for better visibility on his side.
Like she’d ever shy away from a challenge. Or admit to her brother that a round up with a bunch of rookie wannabe cowboys might’ve been a bad idea.
That softened the corner of his lips. Took the edge off his worry. Yeah. That last one.
Only one horse emerged from a cluster of trees, at a more sedate pace now. Candy Cane and Katherine. But where was—?
There! Charcoal grazed on some tall grass near the trees. What about Kierra?
His gaze darted around, but he couldn’t spot her anywhere.
Urging his horse faster, Fargo gestured toward the band of trees and then disappeared in the foliage.
That couldn’t be good!
Hawk searched the landscape for a place to put this baby down. Not fast enough for the worry skittering up his spine, he finally touched down and yanked the first aid kit from the storage hatch behind the seat. “Where is she?” he yelled.
“Over here,” Fargo responded. Even keeled, no emotion.
Any other time, that laid-back attitude really worked for him, especially on the job, but right now, Hawk wanted to strangle his boss. Couldn’t Fargo give him a heads up at least? A “hurry” or “she’s all right” or—
Oh no! That probably meant—
Hawk sprinted toward Fargo’s voice, the thunder of his boots pounding the earth matching the clamoring in his head.
Was she hurt badly? Would she require more medical aid than he—
A branch whacked him in the face, and then another and another. One caught his medical bag, but he smashed the limb down and jerked it free, clearing the way as moisture trickled down his temple. He ignored it. A little blood didn’t compare to what he hoped he wouldn’t find—
Kierra. Flat. On the ground. Her coal black hair loose and splayed against the hard earth, her body limp, all the sass and sweetness, the life and vitality evaporated.
No! No! No!
He stumbled to a stop, his legs almost buckling out from under him. Fear cinched his chest, held his boots hostage. His fingers tightened around the plastic handle of the medical kit, nails digging into the skin of his palm.
Fargo’s lips moved. Even from the edge of the clearing, Hawk could make out the worry clamping his boss’s jaw. Slumping his shoulders.
An arm lifted off the ground to flutter through the air, dismissing Fargo, then jabbed in the direction of the runaway horse and Katherine.
Relief gushed through Hawk’s veins more than blood. His breath whooshed out, almost a moan. He commanded his jelly-like legs to get a move on.
His knees slammed into the hard packed dirt next to Kierra, across from her brother, and he dropped the bag on the grass. Heaven help him, he didn’t want anyone blocking his view. Nor was he willing to share. Not even with her brother.
“Ramon’s on it. He’ll stop them,” Fargo said, addressing Kierra.
“What hurts?” he asked, not wasting a second to tell them that Candy Cane and Katherine were fine.
Her dark eyes flashed on him, and for the briefest of seconds, he could swear she was happy to see him.
He didn’t have time to dwell on that, or why it felt like the ground shifted inside his chest.
Her gaze rolled down to her feet, pain clear in her puffy cheeks and her white-knuckled fist. “My ankle.”
Without thinking, he reached out to skim her jaw, his fingers a tip away when the whites of her eyes exploded. He covered his blunder by rooting around in his duffle, practically burying his head so that his face didn’t reflect the war going on between his brain and his heart. Angry with himself for even entertaining these thoughts. His son was counting on him. “Back?”
“No.”
Thank heaven! “Head or neck?” He held his breath, dared to let his gaze slide back over to her then wished he could drag it away. She was so beautiful, so soft and fresh, even with dried leaves stuck in her hair and smudges of dirt darkening her cheeks.
His soul was parched and dry. A hearty wind could swoop in and spark the tiny kindling still left in his heart for her and fan it into a raging forest fire.
Not good. Not good at all.
She moved her head, testing various positions. “No. Just my ankle. Think it’s only a sprain. Just like I told Fargo.” She angled toward her brother, gave him her best “I
’m all right” glare, but Hawk saw right through it, to the discomfort straining her voice. “Now would you please go after Katherine? Make sure she’s okay?”
“All right.” Fargo stretched to his full height and folded arms across his chest. Erased the softness glittering from his eyes and replaced it with pure stubbornness. Looking every bit the big, protective brother.
Uh oh. Kierra wasn’t going to like what was coming next.
“But you’re riding in the chopper the rest of the day,” Fargo said.
She sputtered and coughed. Flashed a frightened, injured doe face at Hawk. “The chopper…”
“No arguments,” Fargo clamped his jaw.
Fargo surely wouldn’t get any from him, and he wasn’t inserting himself in the middle of their sibling squabble. The day suddenly got a whole lot brighter.
Hawk scooted down the length of Kierra’s leg, doing his best to hide his smile. But that faded when he slid up the bottom of her denims and spotted her swollen ankle. Angry red and purple marks already stained her skin.
Ouch. He scolded his giant fingers to be gentle as he wrapped the cold compress around her leg.
“But—” Kierra only got one word in before Fargo interrupted.
“Or we’ll just call this whole thing off right now.”
Her entire body stiffened. She launched herself into a sitting position. Planted palms on the grass. Wriggled her leg out of his grasp—
Seriously? Was she really going to stand up on that ankle?
In one lightning quick move, he bolted to his feet and slid an arm around her back to catch her fall.
She jerked away from him, but only fractionally, and put all her weight on her good ankle. Sweat beaded above her lip as she tested the injured one. She sucked in a breath and clenched her jaw so tight, something popped.
