First Time Train Wreck

by T. S. Joyce

  “You write her in the hospital?”

  Bodey nodded. “I send her pictures of the calves. She always liked the babies. And when you showed up here last week? I knew you. I didn’t know you’d got a job here, but I knew you. You look like your daddy, but those eyes?” His smile trembled. “Your momma gave you those eyes.” He tipped his hat to her like Train Wreck had. “You have a good day, Miss Amber. The boss wants to have dinner with you at his house at six. Best not be late.”

  And with that, he moseyed off toward the biggest red barn that housed the bucking chutes he trained the bulls in.

  Okay. Okay! She’d had a moment earlier when she didn’t know what had possessed her to move out here to a life she didn’t understand, but Bodey had just made it all worth it. Sure, she was chasing ghosts to cope with what her mother was going through. She could practically see her mother as a child swinging on that ol’ tire hanging from the low branches of an ancient Ponderosa Pine near the house. Or running through the wild grasses of the empty pasture before her. Or having a snowball fight with her sisters and Uncle Sloane on a cold winter afternoon. It lifted her heart a little and gave her a second wind.

  Now, all she had to figure out was how to start this damn four-wheeler. Uncle Sloane had shown her the trick to get it going, but other than this morning’s ride in to work, she’d never been on one. Amber climbed up on it and settled into the seat, gripped the handlebars.

  “Push the brake in and start,” she muttered as she turned the key to…nothing.

  The little engine didn’t even try to turn over. Shoot.

  She tried again and again to silence. Maybe she’d left the lights on and run the battery down. Did that happen to four-wheelers? She knew it happened to cars from personal experience.

  “Hold brake and turn the key. Hee-yah!”

  Nothing.

  “That’s a fancy ride you got there.”

  “Aaah!” she yelped, turning in a rush to find Train Wreck. “Lord, you scared me.”

  “That’s what you get to ride on around the ranch?” he asked, circling in front of her.

  “You look like you’re checking out a hot girl right now,” she teased.

  “This thing is a wet dream. Probably more power than you realize, and since you don’t even know how to start the thing, I have feelings of concern.”

  “Feelings of concern? Ha. Well, I’m a badass, independent”—she turned the key again, but nothing—“woman, who is perfectly capable of—”

  Train Wreck reached forward and clicked a little red button on her left handlebar. “Now try.”

  The four-wheeler roared to life.

  His face was all conceited with one eyebrow cocked up under his cowboy hat.

  “Are you in the habit of not texting girls back?” she asked primly.

  “Not when I’m right in the middle of a meeting, no. Are you in the habit of lying to get a guy’s phone number?”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “You told Dead you’re my girlfriend.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed hard. “I do seem to recall that part.”

  Train Wreck lowered his chin and leveled her with a look. “Yeah, well, now that dumbass is making you a friendship bracelet and you’re invited to Friday night ribeyes with the herd.” He did an about-face and began walking toward the gravel parking lot where a single, older jacked-up blue F250 was parked. Okay, she was a city girl from Boise, who’d been surrounded by cattle country all her life. She could appreciate a good-looking truck. And the good-looking man who drove it.

  She put it into low gear and caught up with him, drove right beside him. “You eat steaks? Isn’t that cannibalism?”

  “Eating meat doesn’t bother me. Nothing does, really.”

  “That can’t be true. Everyone is bothered by something.”

  “Okay, agreed. You are bothering me right now.”

  “Why?”

  Train Wreck stopped and put his hands on his hips, sighed up at the sky, and then looked over his shoulder. “You’re about to drive into camera range.”

  “What?”

  He twitched his chin behind them. “You were in a blind spot, but there is another camera on the other side of this building. You can’t be seen talking to me.”

  Okay, creepy that he knew where the cameras were. “Why can’t I talk to you?”

  “Because of that little word you texted me earlier.”

  “Hagan?”

  “Shhh.” His dark brows drew low over eyes that weren’t that piercing blue anymore but muddying to a dark brown. “You need to keep your nose clean and stay out of all this. In fact, why don’t you take a few days off work? Go on vacation or something.”

  “It’s a little hard to put in for time off when I just started working here yesterday.”

  “Shit.” He glared at his truck and then back at her. “Where are you going on that thing?”

  “To my humble abode.” Amber pointed to a gate in the fence line. “That trail through there leads to an old cattleman’s cabin. I’m living there while I work here.”

  “Hmm. Are you on lockdown, or does the new Brander pet have freedom to go into town?”

  “I’m free as a bird, First Time Train Wreck. I’m here to live, to work, and to learn about my Mom’s life before she met my dad. In fact, after dinner with my uncle, I’m getting groceries. My social life is very full.”

  Train Wreck chuckled, and the deep timbre of it rattled right through her and landed somewhere in her nethers. Good God almighty, his laugh was sexy.

  “Nah, don’t do that, Brander. I can smell when you want me.”

  “I…” Her cheeks were being slowly set on fire. “I…”

  “Bull got your tongue?”

  Oh, his smile was too smooth and too confident for his own good. That man was trouble with a capital T.

  “C-cat. I have a pussy. I mean a cat! I have a pussy cat. In my house. Her name is Frog, and she loves me.”

  Okay, now his eyes were laughing right along with his mouth, and could a man get any finer than this one? She’d never witnessed raw sex appeal like his.

  He pointed to the gate. “Is that the only way to get to your cabin?”

  “No, I can get there from Baker’s Street. The road isn’t paved and really overgrown, though. I bottomed out my car twice trying to get it up to the cabin.”

  “Mmm. Well, ask old Bodey to take care of the brambles for you. He’s a good one. I can sense this kind of stuff. Only ask him, okay?”

  “Bossy. I’ll ask whoever I want.”

  “Or better yet, learn to do it yourself.” Train Wreck offered her a baiting smile and then turned to leave.

  “What is a Hagan?” she asked in a rush. “I have to know.”

  “Where did you hear that word?” His tone had turned all gritty.

  “It’s the name of a folder I’m working on.”

  “Is there an address in that folder?” he asked.

  “No, just income numbers and three-number-combinations to identify each transaction.”

  “You asked what 623 means.”

  “Yeah?”

  He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring slightly as he looked back at where they’d come from. “It’s the number for an ear tag. That number represents a living creature. Hagan is the last name of some of the gnarliest bull shifters in the world.”

  “Like Hagan’s Lace?”

  A thoughtful expression painted across his handsome face, Train Wreck nodded. “I know you’re curious, but there is something big going on here. Something that will get people hurt. I can’t be worrying over a stranger. I need you to stay out of the detective shit.”

  “Well, I’m not a stranger. I’m your girlfriend, remember?”

  His eye roll was impressive. “I’m leaving.”

  “What color is my friendship bracelet going to be?” she called as he walked away.

  “Dookie brown. That’s what I told Dead your favorite color is.”

  Ew. “My favorite col
or is pink.”

  “Well, how would I know that?” he asked, turning to her and walking backward. He grinned brightly. “You aren’t my girlfriend.”

  Chapter Five

  “What did First Time Train Wreck say to you today?” Uncle Sloane asked.

  Amber choked on her pea soup. Not because it was disgusting, which it was because peas were the turds of the vegetable kingdom, but she’d gone into a coughing fit because he’d startled her and she’d sucked it right down the wrong tube.

  He sat at the other side of the table, his hands clasped in front of his mouth, studying her like she was some kind of bug. She coughed again and chugged her water. Why was she sweating?

  Oh, yeah, because she was a terrible liar, but here goes. “I asked him for his autograph.”

  Uncle Sloane looked surprised and leaned back in his chair.

  “Why on earth would you want that man’s autograph?” Aunt Helena asked.

  Amber stirred her green glop soup around and muttered, “Because I was a fan of his. Key word was. He’s kind of rude, and he didn’t give me the autograph. He told me to buy a VIP ticket and come to an event if I want one.”

  Uncle Sloane huffed a breath. “Yes, well, they’re all like that. Not a single manner between them.”

  “Shifters?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh.” She took another little bite of the soup and pretended it didn’t taste like hot vegetable baby food. “So delicious.”

  “Have you ever met a shifter before today?” he asked.

  “Nope. I got close once. I was at a party in Boise, and one of the bull shifters dropped off a girl there. I just missed seeing him, though. I probably would’ve asked for his autograph, too.”

  “So you enjoy watching these…shifters?” Uncle Sloane asked.

  Now Aunt Helena was studying her, too.

  “I did when I thought they were nice. I watched the whole season of the PBSRC last year.”

  “And who were your favorites?”

  Time for more lies because she definitely wasn’t going to name the bull shifter she wished would play with her boobies. That one had some kind of beef—cow joke—with Uncle Sloane. “Um, Quickdraw Slow Burn?”

  The corners of Uncle Sloan’s eyes tightened slightly. “You realize PBSRC competes directly with the circuit I breed bulls for, right? People watch the bull shifters because they’re a freak show. Meanwhile, those of us who believe in the tradition of natural bucking bulls, passed on from generation to generation, are being ignored and pushed out of the spotlight. You’re choosing to watch an industry that puts this very ranch at risk.”

  Amber fashioned her face into a polite smile and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” But then again, his ranch didn’t really feel at risk if he was raking in half a million dollars in under-the-table cash every six months. Be cool. Time for a subject change. “Bodey told me a little about my mom growing up here.”

  Sloane and Helena cast each other a quick glance that Amber didn’t understand.

  “Your mother was a spitfire.” Helena looked up at the server as he set out a tray of crackers, cheese, and assorted meats on the table before them. “We’re ready for the main course, Duncan.”

  “Thank you,” Amber rushed out as he walked away, hoping her politeness would take the sting off the venom in Helena’s voice.

  “What were your hopes when you accepted this job?” Uncle Sloane asked as he swished around a glass of red wine.

  Amber was busy making a little cracker and meat sandwich from the tray Duncan had just brought in, but she put it down gingerly on her fine porcelain plate to answer. “I wanted to get to know you and this place. I’ve had trouble feeling like I fit in anywhere, and when you said the job was available, I was excited to learn about where I come from.”

  “You were hired because you are family,” he said simply.

  “Oh.” Well, that wasn’t her favorite thing to hear. “I did well in school—”

  “I didn’t even look at your application until after I hired you.”

  Amber pursed her lips and looked down at the cracker on her plate.

  “That doesn’t sit well with you?” Uncle Sloane asked.

  “I like to earn what I get. That’s all.”

  “Well, there will come opportunities to prove your worth,” he said. “And when they present themselves, make the right decisions.”

  “What are the right decisions?”

  “The ones that elevate this ranch and our family’s future.” At all costs. Those last words weren’t said out loud, but strongly implied.

  Amber was in something she didn’t understand. Yet.

  She nodded slightly. “Okay.”

  “Are you sure you only asked First time Train Wreck for an autograph? There is a space in the security cameras that is hidden from view,” Uncle Sloane said. “Your ATV was parked in a dead zone. Five minutes passed from the time First Time Train Wreck entered the dead zone until he walked to his truck. It should’ve only taken him fifteen seconds. And then you rode off toward your cabin just a minute after he left. What else did he say?”

  Amber clamped her hands together under the table. Think. “That I shouldn’t be trusted with an ATV. He had to turn it on for me because I couldn’t get it started. The red switch—”

  “—was in the off position. Right.”

  “Can I ask what is the interest in him? I thought you said his circuit undermines yours. Is he bad?”

  “Very bad,” Helena said. “He and his kind have been stealing money from our circuit with no thought to how it affects our ranch and other ranches like this one. They talk down on us in their little interviews and making our prize bucking bulls obsolete. They’ve aimed at us and made us a laughing stock. We nearly lost the ranch last year. A ranch that’s been in this family’s name for four generations. We almost lost it because of them.”

  But the half a million dollars in the Hagan file…

  “How did you save it?”

  Another glance between Helena and Sloane. Sloan’s mouth settled into a thin, grim line. “We had to get creative.”

  An awkward silence fell over the room so she busied herself eating. She’d been starving, but now the food settled into her mouth like a glob of cement. She didn’t have a good feeling about her family anymore. The hope she’d felt coming out here was being quickly replaced by unease.

  “I’ve had a long day and suddenly don’t have an appetite,” Helena said. “She stood from the table and excused herself, then disappeared down the hallway.

  Uncle Sloane leaned back in his chair and gave room for Duncan to set a plate of shrimp and veggie skewers and cubed potatoes in front of him. He looked at Helena’s empty seat, but didn’t skip a beat, just set the other plate in front of Amber.

  “Thank you so much,” she whispered.

  Duncan smiled and gave her a little nod.

  When she looked back up at Uncle Sloane, his eyes were narrowed on her. “You’re a pretty woman, Amber. You took on some of your mother’s qualities. You’re a hard worker. Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why did you quit school when you were only a year from graduating? I read over your application before dinner. You only had eighteen credit hours left. Why did you quit?”

  She hated that word. “I’m not a quitter.”

  “You quit college.”

  “And went back and finished it with a bigger degree, which is why I’m here, able to crunch numbers for you.”

  Red crept up his neck. This was a man who didn’t like people to stand their ground against him.

  “When I was twenty, insurance slowed down on helping me and Grandma pay for my mom’s care. At the same time, the funds that had been coming from this ranch for her medical bills dried up, too. I put school on hold to get a job and help my grandma keep my mom in the long-term care facility she was in. She had amazing nurses there, and she was comfortable. There was a world for her outside of this place, Un
cle Sloane, but it came at a cost. She raised me well as long as she could. My work ethic comes from her and your mother, who was the one who had to finish raising me when my mom couldn’t think straight anymore. We were a team, and sometimes team members have to make sacrifices. My sacrifice wasn’t the end of the world. I went back to school when I was twenty-eight. I finished with a degree that made more sense for me than the one I’d been pursuing when I was younger and didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I never quit.”

  A slow smile stretched across his face that almost, almost, reached his eyes. “You’re loyal to your family. That’s a Brander trait.”

  It was also a Williams trait that her father had carried as well, but she kept that observation behind pursed lips. She was protective of her dad. The memories of him were just for her.

  Sloane continued. “I like that you never asked why our funding dried up for your mom. You just made due with what you had. Loyal. Prideful. Hard-working. I think you’ll do just fine here.”

  The loyal in her wanted to ask why the funding had been cut for her mother’s care. But the prideful in her wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  So, she finished her dinner with him, speaking politely about nothing important, and she let him think she was naïve to everything that was happening here.

  After dinner, she rode the four-wheeler back past the little barn with her office in it and headed for the trail that led to her cabin past the fence line. But as she turned the corner, she was startled. A tall cowboy Sloane had introduced her to as his right-hand man, Dillon, was up on a ladder, installing a security camera in the dead zone.

  She huffed and shook her head, then continued on her way.

  This place was like its own world and so different from everything she’d known, and she couldn’t decide yet if Fate had brought her here or if she’d made a wrong turn along the way.

  She was willing to find out, though.

  Chapter Six

  Train Wreck sat on the edge of the hotel bed, his hands clasped in front of his face. He’d listened to the bug he’d taped under the dining room table of Sloane’s house. He’d heard the entire dinner conversation between Helena, Amber, and Sloane, and he was still processing.