“That’s good.”
Mackenzie wanted to reach out and smack this man, but instead she shook her head and smiled coldly.
“I think I’ll take care of my own blisters,” she said, hopping out of the truck.
“Wait—you’re mad?” Chet asked incredulously, leaning down and looking out the open truck window at her. “What just happened here?”
Just like a man, Chet had missed everything between the lines, and Mack turned back toward him in anger.
“I’m a grown woman, Chet. I’m college educated, and I’m the sole owner of four hundred acres. I’m no longer seventeen, and while this might shock you, I don’t need a man. I’m also not stupid. So you can stop standing guard and—”
Chet opened the truck door and slammed it shut harder than necessary. He leaned back into the open window and pinned her with an annoyed glare. “I’m not standing guard.”
He stalked around the vehicle and up the back stairs to her house.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
“I’m helping you with those blisters,” he retorted, turning flashing gray eyes onto her. “This is ranching lesson number one—you need people. You can never do this on your own. You’re going to need neighbors and you’re going to need to pitch in to help them, too, because one of these days, you’re going to get the flu, or you’re going to get your tractor stuck in the mud, or you’re going to lose cows through a broken fence... The potential emergencies are pretty much countless. So get off your high horse, get into that house and let me help you sort out your blisters, or tomorrow you’re going to be bleeding through your gloves!”
Mack stared at him, stunned. Without another word, he disappeared into the house, leaving Mackenzie outside. She had two choices—go in there and let him help her, or stomp off to the barn or somewhere and make some elaborate point about her independence. She looked down at her hands—they hurt. A little bit of nursing would be nice, she had to admit, so she blew out a sigh and headed into the house.
Chet seemed to know his way around well enough, his boots thunking against the kitchen floor as he paced about, gathering his supplies. He wrenched open a cupboard above the fridge and pulled out a first-aid kit. So that was where Granny had kept it. Good to know.
“Wash up,” he said and marched down the hall, his footsteps echoing from the bathroom. She did as he told her—not that she wouldn’t have washed her hands, she mentally noted with an eye roll. Then he came back, a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in hand. He deposited everything onto the table and pulled out a chair.
“Sit.”
“You’re a bossy one,” she said with a slight smile.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” He pointed to the chair. “I said sit.”
Mackenzie gave him an arch look, then complied. He sat in the chair next to her and took her closer hand in his. He pressed his knees together and laid her open hand against the warm valley between them.
“These blisters are too big,” he said. “I’ll pop the ones that haven’t already with a needle, and after they’ve drained, we’ll disinfect it all and let it dry out.”
“That’s the secret?” she said.
“Yup.” He set to work, his hands moving more gently than she’d have thought possible. He pulled out a needle, and she looked away. Thank goodness he finished the job quickly enough. Her hands were still tender, but they’d heal up. She wasn’t the first person on the planet to get a blister, and she felt a little ridiculous getting this kind of attention for something so ordinary.
When he was through, Chet stood back up again.
“You’ll be fine,” he said. “But do me a favor and wait for me before evening chores tonight. You’re going to have to build up to this kind of work, and there’s no way around that.”
She could see that he was right, and she nodded mutely.
“And one more thing.” He pulled open the door and looked back at her, gray eyes boring into hers. “I wasn’t suggesting that you’d take advantage of Andy. I was saying that he’s not completely over you. Just...be careful.”
Andy was the boy who’d unceremoniously dumped her...the boy she’d always wondered about in spite of herself. He’d been her first big heartbreak, the one she’d always fantasized about running into when she looked fantastic and successful. And Chet was saying that he still had feelings for her?
Chet didn’t mention anything further, and she didn’t ask. He simply stepped outside, slamming the door behind him. She went to the window and watched him stride away from the house, hop up into his truck and drive off without so much as a backward glance.
She looked down at her newly bandaged hands. Chet had a point about needing neighbors. She couldn’t be responsible for even fifteen cows without someone else to lean on if the worst should happen. And it looked as if Chet wasn’t going to let her be choosy about whom she chose to lean on, either.
Chapter Three
After a sunny morning, clouds had been rolling in all afternoon, sweeping across the landscape but so far leaving them without any rain. Montana needed the moisture, and like every other landholder in these parts, Chet had been watching the sky, hoping for more than an overcast day. This evening, he stood by the back door of Mackenzie’s barn as the cows filed inside, hooves plodding hollowly against concrete, and watched as Mackenzie closed them into their stalls.
He’d never seen Mack as much of a rancher in their youth. She’d always been the city girl visiting her grandmother’s ranch, but the past decade had changed a lot. Her teenage spunk had matured into a stubborn fortitude. The accidental flirtation that she’d never seemed entirely aware of had evaporated. She now seemed to know what she could make a man feel and her appropriate reserve made him only all the more drawn to her. She knew what she had to offer, and she wasn’t playing games. All of that potential had blossomed. If he’d been smitten back then, he knew that he could fall even harder now if he wasn’t careful.
The goats came in after the cows, and Butter Cream ambled in last of all, her belly less full and a tiny white kid in tow. Chet hadn’t seen the kid when they’d opened the pasture gates. It looked as if Butter Cream had taken care of things herself—a week early, at that. The baby was mussed up from having been licked by its mother, and Chet crouched down to do a quick sex check. The kid was a buck, and its belly was full of milk—an excellent sign. Butter Cream was an experienced mother, and she knew how to care for a kid without much intervention. She’d had only singletons in the past, though.
“She had her baby!” Mackenzie exclaimed, and she bent down, holding her fingers out toward them. Butter Cream let her approach, and the baby stretched to give her a curious sniff. “I guess you were wrong,” Mack said. “There’s only one.”
“I’m not wrong.” It was possible that the second baby was still inside and Butter Cream might need some help to deliver, but there was most definitely a second baby.
“Let me see...” Chet came closer. He and Butter Cream had a good relationship going, and she allowed him to feel her belly. It was still distended from pregnancy, but it was empty of babies. That meant there was at least one more kid outside in the field without its mother.
“What’s wrong?” Mack asked. “Is she going to have another one?”
“She already had it,” Chet replied. “And it’s out there somewhere.”
He jutted his chin toward the open barn door, and a gust of cold, damp air swept inside at the same moment, raising goose bumps on her arms.
“How do you know?” She rubbed her arms, her gaze flickering toward the door.
“I told you that she was pregnant with more than one. The other might not have survived, but there are times when a goat will accept one twin and reject the other. If it’s alive, it won’t be for long if we don’t find it.”
Mackenzie sobered and stood up instantly. “Come on, girl,” she said gently, herding Butter Cream toward the stall. “In your pen. Let’s go...”
When they reached the door, the
wind was whipping through the long grass in ripples and sending up spirals of dust from the dirt road.
“Where would it be?” Mack asked, raising her voice above the sound of the wind, and she stopped to look around, holding her hat down with one hand.
“They were in the small pasture, right?” Chet asked. “The one beside the cows?”
Mack squinted, suddenly looking less sure of herself. “I think so.”
“Come on.” He headed for the truck. “We’ll drive over. It’ll be faster. But when we get there, we’ll have to search on foot.”
Mackenzie beat him to the truck, and by the time she slid into the driver’s seat, the first few fat drops of rain were hitting the dusty gravel like tiny bombs. The air smelled moist and good, but rain also meant that the lost kid was going to be even colder than it already was. He could only hope that Butter Cream had cleaned the baby off before abandoning it.
The truck lurched forward before Chet had even slammed the door shut, and Mackenzie glanced in his direction, then back at the road. The wind was blowing harder now, and the rain started to fall in earnest, hurtling straight into the windshield and blurring their vision, even with the wipers sloshing back and forth at full speed.
“I can barely see!” Mack said.
“There, there—” Chet pointed to the turn that would bring them to the smallest enclosed pasture, which was also closest to the barn, and she hauled the wheel left, the tires spinning in the newly created mud. As they pulled up to the gate, the truck dropped heavily at the front end, and the tires spun.
“What was that?” Mack exclaimed, leaning forward to look.
“Pothole. See if you can back up,” Chet suggested.
Mack put the truck into Reverse and hit the gas, but it made no difference. The tires spun again, but they weren’t going anywhere.
“Shoot...” Mack heaved a sigh, and for a moment, he thought he saw tears mist her eyes. He knew she wasn’t looking for sympathy, but he had the urge to put an arm around her—an urge he quickly quashed.
“Come on,” Chet said. “Let’s go look for the kid, and we’ll figure out the truck when we find it. I have some tricks up my sleeve yet.”
She sucked in a breath and exchanged a look with him. Then they both pushed their hats more firmly onto their heads and pushed open their doors, hopping out into the hammering rain. Chet wasn’t sure what he expected of Mack out here, but she wasn’t waiting on him and beelined into the middle of the pasture. Chet stayed closer to the fence. They’d cover more ground searching different areas.
He was still frustrated, though. Ten years had passed and some things just didn’t change. Last night, Andy had called dibs—even though he didn’t know that Mack was back yet—and while that was a stupid way to decide anything, his younger brother also held all the cards. Chet shaded his eyes and looked toward Mackenzie, who was standing with her back to him, legs akimbo and hand still holding her hat securely on her head. She was somehow both softer and stronger at the same time. She’d gotten only more beautiful over the years.
A faint bleat caught his ear, and he nearly stepped on the tiny thing before he saw it. The kid was drenched with rain, even smaller than its brother back in the barn. It was chocolate brown and lay curled up in a pathetic little ball by a fence post.
“Over here!” Chet hollered, and Mack jogged toward them. The rain had wet her through, her shirt clinging to her body and rivulets of water pouring down her collarbones and sticking her hair into dark gold tendrils against her skin. Chet picked up the goat and it shivered in his arms.
“It’s alive—that’s a relief,” Mack said, wiping water from her face. “I think I saw an old blanket in the back of the truck—”
“Helen always kept one back there,” Chet said. “If Butter Cream won’t take her, you might just have earned yourself a bottle baby.”
Mack gave him an appropriate look of alarm. At least she could appreciate how much work was coming her way. They trudged back through the blinding rain toward the truck. The vehicle hung at an angle, the front driver’s-side wheel deep in a pothole. She stayed close to his side, the warmth of her body emanating against his arm, and when he looked down at her, he realized that Mack was oddly comforting—a comfort he hadn’t known he’d even needed.
Chet pulled open the passenger’s-side door, and between them both, they got the tiny goat wrapped in the blanket. It needed milk, and they didn’t have much time before it lost its strength, and that would be fatal.
“Go around and put it in Reverse,” Chet said, pulling Mack clear of another pothole as he spoke. She leaned into him as he tugged her to the side, her slight weight colliding with his chest. “Easy does it,” he said, boosting her back up. He didn’t dare let his mind go to the possibilities of her in his arms.
Mack met his gaze and a smile crinkled at the corners of her eyes. Just as quickly, she was out of his arms, and she hurried around the back of the truck to hop into the driver’s side. The rain came down in a steady sheet, and Chet was pretty sure that there wasn’t a part of him that was dry at this point, but it would be a while before he was back home, so it was better not to think about it.
Chet levered his body against the grate of the truck and shouted, “Now!”
The wheel started to spin and he pushed against the grate with all his strength. His boots slid in the mud, and he could hear the tires tearing into the side of the pothole. When it stopped, the truck sank even farther down. This wasn’t going to work.
Chet stood up and went around to the window.
“It’s no good,” Chet said. “We’re only digging deeper.”
Mackenzie locked eyes with him for a moment, then nodded. She reached for the bundled-up little goat and cuddled it close against her chest.
“I guess we’d better walk, then,” she said. “What’ll I do about the truck?”
He took her by the arm, helping to lift her back down to the ground. She bent her head against the rain, and he slammed the door shut behind them.
“This is why you have neighbors,” he said, raising his voice above the drum of the storm. “Andy and I used to get our truck out of potholes all the time. I just need some twine and a two-by-four. But first things first.”
They picked up their pace, rushing through the slanting rain toward the blurred shape of the barn. The road was slick with mud, and at one point, Mackenzie slipped, falling heavily against him. He caught her and kept a solid arm around her waist after that. She felt good in his arms—warm and slippery and soft. He wasn’t supposed to even entertain thoughts like these right now. He had bigger issues—like holding what was left of the Granger family together and not losing his ranch, both of which he’d fail at if he let his attraction to Mackenzie get in the way. Mack was a distraction he couldn’t actually afford.
“You were right about neighbors, Chet,” she said as they finally made it to the barn and ducked under the eaves. “I have no idea what I’d have done without you. I suppose I owe you one.”
She was so close to him that he could feel her breath and the way she shivered. She looked down at the tiny kid in her arms, and he was tempted to put his arms around her and warm her up, but he couldn’t guarantee that he’d stop there, so instead, he shot her a grin and said, “We’ll figure it out.”
A few ideas—none of which were appropriate—flitted through his mind, but he shoved them back. The more prominent thought right now was that he couldn’t get her truck out of that ditch without another body, and he knew exactly who he’d need to call. He ran his ranch on a skeleton crew—money being tight lately—and his own workers were tending to his herds right now. That left one person with nothing at all to do except sit around Chet’s house and feel sorry for himself...
He’d been hoping to keep Mack to himself for a little longer, but it looked as though he’d have to haul Andy out here and share some of that glory.
Blast.
* * *
MACKENZIE SAT CROSS-LEGGED inside Butter Cream’s
stall, holding the tiny brown goat up to the mother’s teat. Butter Cream stepped away every time the kid’s little mouth made contact.
“Butter Cream, this is your baby,” she said firmly. “Come on now.”
She offered some hay for Butter Cream to eat out of her hands, but the goat sidled away again as the tiny kid tried to latch on. Mackenzie felt tears of frustration rising. The baby was hungry and bleated plaintively, a weak, wavering cry. She guided the kid’s head forward once more, and the barn door banged open, making Butter Cream startle and stumble forward, stepping heavily on Mackenzie’s hand.
“Ouch!”
Chet came inside, and behind him came his brother. She couldn’t get a clear look at Andy, who was the smaller man of the two, and she caught her heart speeding up. She hadn’t seen or heard from Andy Granger since the day he broke up with her, though she’d gone over what she’d say to him a hundred times if she ever got the chance. And here it was.
When Andy finally came up to his brother’s side, she was surprised to see that he’d changed quite a bit. He was still several inches shorter than Chet, but the years had made more of a man of him. His physique was still fit, although broader now that he was fully grown, and his red hair had darkened into something closer to auburn with a few strands of silver. Andy glanced around nervously, and when his gaze fell on her, he gave her a tentative smile.
“Mackenzie Vaughn,” he said, his voice low and warm. “Is it ever good to see you.”
She hadn’t expected that, and she pushed herself to her feet. “Hi, Andy.”
“It’s been a while.” Andy came up to Butter Cream’s stall, and Mackenzie opened the door, letting herself out.
“A long while,” she agreed.
Andy leaned in to give her a hug just as she was about to move away toward the barn sink, and they had an awkward collision and a back pat. Andy laughed uncomfortably.
Her Stubborn Cowboy Page 4
