Wild Cowboy Country

by Erin Marsh

  He knew, which was what Lacey wanted. But not like this. Not in anger. But there was no taking it back. No hiding.

  “Grandpa, he’s a good man.”

  Her grandfather pulled up a chair that Lou used when he recorded the wolves’ weight and food consumption. He sank into it. He didn’t say anything as his fingers worried the beat-up cowboy hat in his hand.

  “Ah hell,” he repeated. “Your mama isn’t going to like this, Lacey Girl.”

  “That’s a given,” Lacey said softly. “But what about you?”

  He leaned back and watched the pups. The little tykes had started wrestling. Their furry bodies were a blur of flailing limbs and wagging tails. Perseus had his jaw around Theseus’s neck. Happy, playful squeaks echoed in the nursery, but even the wolves’ joy couldn’t dispel the cold hardness settling inside Lacey.

  “You have a soft heart.” Her grandfather kept his attention on the tussling animals as he spoke. “You always have. But some creatures, some people, are beyond saving.”

  Lacey tamped down the icy blast of anger his words triggered. Unleashing the bitter gale wouldn’t help. Still, when she spoke, her words sounded clipped, even to her. “Clay Stevens doesn’t need saving, Grandpa. He’s a fine, decent person all on his own, and Sagebrush certainly hasn’t made it easy for him to be.”

  “His father damn near gutted our town.”

  She tried to keep her voice calm despite the frustration burning inside her. “Grandpa, we have an outlaw in the family tree. He robbed trains, and he held up banks. People died during his crimes. Should I feel guilty about that?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Lacey Girl. That’s not the same.”

  “Why? Clay wasn’t involved in what his father did. What has Clay done?”

  Her grandfather went quiet again. “He’s not one of your wolves, Lacey.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Lacey asked. Before he could respond, the pups broke into excited yips. Despite Perseus’s limp, the duo began chasing each other around the nursery. Sylvia rose from her nest of blankets to monitor them.

  “Ever since you were a little girl, you had this need to champion the misunderstood. Like those two lobos over there. People in these parts viewed them as dangerous nuisances. Killers with no redeeming value. But you saw them differently. To you, they’re always like this: the playful canine. And you made us see that too. But that doesn’t mean that they’re not predators and that they don’t cause problems.”

  Lacey didn’t like to admit it, but his words unsettled her. She did have the tendency to champion the underdog, but she wasn’t being naive about Clay. “Grandpa, that isn’t an answer to my question.”

  “If you’d asked me what Clay’s father had done wrong before the investment scheme, I couldn’t have told you a thing other than he seemed a bit arrogant and flashy. Most folks around here liked him. He had a way of putting people at ease and impressing them at the same time. People thought if they hung around him, his luck and business savvy would rub off onto them. But something about him never set right with me, and I feel the same about his son.”

  Lacey rubbed her forehead. Her wooziness had worsened. She noticed that it always did in stressful situations. She couldn’t figure out the right response. Her grandfather’s words buzzed in her head like a swarm of particularly angry horntail wasps.

  “Lacey, when you first decided you wanted to make a career of defending the unwanted, I was always afraid you’d get your hand bitten off. This might be the time when it happens. You’re not responsible for the rehabilitation of every misjudged beast…or person.”

  “It’s not like that,” Lacey said, but she didn’t like the doubt he’d stirred up. She was supposed to be convincing him, not the other way around. She had a knack for persuasion, but her grandfather was using her very skill to question her relationship.

  “Lacey, the man has done nothing but cause you and the wolf program problems,” her grandfather pointed out.

  “It’s true that our opinions differ, but he’s not trying to just be a jerk. You should hear his plans for the Valhalla Ranch. And his land management strategy—”

  “Which he asked you to help with, according to your mother,” her grandfather said.

  “You say that like an accusation.”

  “He’s getting free advice, Lacey Girl. A Stevens is good at using people and then discarding them when he gets what he wants.”

  Lacey’s head had now begun to throb, and she focused on the pups. They’d clambered over to Sylvia and had begun tussling with her. The capybara let out a long-suffering sigh as Theseus tugged on her short ear. When he got a little rough, the rodent bopped him with her big snout.

  “Clay knows how much I love ecology. He wouldn’t date me for my knowledge. He’d straight up ask for it.”

  “And what else does he want? He’s been trying to market Valhalla Beef all over town. I’ve even heard rumors he wants to turn his place into a fancy wedding venue. Now here you are trying to maneuver me into liking him. If I know you, it’s the beginning of a multipronged plan to convince the whole town to warm up to him.”

  The little flickers of worry began to flame to life. Clay had asked for her help in getting Sagebrush Flats to accept his business. But he wouldn’t seduce her just to market his ranch. For one thing, she’d already admitted that his land management strategy intrigued her. If anything, their relationship made it harder for her to help him since they had to keep everything under wraps. More importantly, Clay didn’t act like a man only interested in his ranch.

  “Grandpa,” Lacey said, “you’ve always respected my instincts. You listened to my ideas to protect ranch animals from wolves long before anyone else. Lots of people would’ve dismissed a child, but you never did.”

  He grunted. “You were smart, Lacey. You researched things more than most kids do—hell, even more than most adults.”

  “Then why don’t you trust me this time?”

  He scratched his head again. “I don’t want you getting hurt, Lacey, or your mother.”

  “But I am happy, Grandpa,” Lacey said earnestly. “There’s something about Clay and his plans for Valhalla. I don’t know. We just fit, and I’ve never felt this way about anyone. What if I’m right and you’re wrong? Then couldn’t I get hurt your way too? I’m not a risk taker, Grandpa, at least not with my heart. And Clay is the first person who’s ever made me want to take a chance on love.”

  Her grandfather emitted a soft chuckle and shook his head. “You always did know how to persuade a person. That might be a valid point, but that doesn’t mean I trust or like him.”

  “I’m not asking you to do either of those things, at least not right away. I want you to give him a chance, Grandpa. He deserves that, and I do too.”

  “All right.” He finally nodded. “I can give you that, but if I see, hear, or even sense anything that worries me, I won’t hesitate to wallop him clear into the next county.”

  Lacey threw her arms around her grandfather, and he patted her shoulder.

  “Thanks, Grandpa. I wouldn’t expect anything else.”

  * * *

  Theseus watched carefully as the Gray-Eyed One’s fingers grazed Scamp’s fur as the honey badger weaved between her legs. The sneaky creature moved backward, causing the biped to lose her balance. She fell straight on her rear. Anticipation built inside Theseus as he visually tracked the sleek animal clambering over the human’s legs. The weasel scurried straight toward Theseus and his brother. Theseus crouched low, his muscles quivering. He tried not to spring too soon as he’d done in the past, but it was soooo hard. He wanted to pounce now.

  Unable to contain his energy, Theseus squeaked. Beside him, his brother did the same. Perseus moved, and Theseus could no longer hold back. He darted full speed at Scamp. Chasing the honey badger was even better than wrestling with his brother or tugging on a rope hel
d by one of the bipeds.

  The human swiveled to catch them, but Theseus and his brother easily darted around her. After a cry of frustration, she pulled out one of those rectangular objects all humans seemed to carry. Her fingers moved furiously across the device as Scamp darted under Theseus’s paw. Theseus let out an excited yip, certain he would finally catch the taunting weasel. He pounced, but the rascal had already anticipated his move. Scamp skittered to the left, leaving Theseus to land awkwardly. The linoleum didn’t provide the best traction, and the wolf’s legs spread out. His sharp barks turned into surprised ones as his belly hit the floor and he spun 180 degrees.

  Perseus quickly rose to Theseus’s defense. With his limp, he moved more slowly. Observing the action from his undignified spread-eagle position, Theseus watched as Scamp allowed his brother to get close before the honey badger darted away. Despite his bad leg, Perseus gave a pretty good chase. Shaking himself off, Theseus joined in. Moving at full speed, Scamp flattened his long body and shimmied under a medicine cabinet. Theseus noticed the huge piece of furniture too late. He tried to stop, but he couldn’t get a proper grip on the smooth floor. He yipped along with Perseus as they careened into the metal furnishing.

  Scrambling to his feet, Theseus tried to squeeze under the small space, but he could only get his paws underneath. Beside him, Perseus did the same. Scamp pressed against the wall, and Theseus let out a frustrated whine that echoed his brother’s. He had just managed to wedge his muzzle under the furniture when he heard the door open.

  “I got your text. Where’s Scamp?” It was the Blue-Eyed One’s voice. Theseus swore the honey badger grinned at the sound.

  Before Theseus could react, Scamp darted straight past him and charged at the Blue-Eyed One. He feinted left and then moved his body to the right…straight into the biped’s hands. Amused pleasure shot through Theseus when the honey badger let out an undignified squealing cry. He pinwheeled his legs, swiping with his claws, but the human held him outward, so he sliced nothing but air.

  “You’re getting really good at that.” The female’s tone held admiration.

  “Thanks.” The Blue-Eyed One sounded how Theseus felt when he’d tasted meat for the first time.

  “You should think about going into zoology.”

  “I’ve been hearing that a lot lately.” The Blue-Eyed One’s face turned an interesting shade of red, but his tone reminded Theseus of how he felt when he beat his brother at wrestling.

  “Maybe there’s a good reason for it.” The noises from the Gray-Eyed One were quiet and soft but somehow strong.

  “Maybe there is.” The Blue-Eyed One’s smile matched the cadence of his speech.

  * * *

  Clay had just drifted off to sleep beside Lacey when his phone rang. She made a sleepy grunt as he carefully slid his arm from under her body. Her hand reached for him, and his heart swelled at the sight. Gently, he brushed a kiss over her cheek. “I’ll be right back.”

  Slipping from the room, he answered, “Yup.”

  “Tim Forrester just called,” his foreman said, his tone sharp and clipped. “He saw the wolf pack head onto our land again.”

  “Shit.”

  “I’m heading up there with Hawkins and Stewart. Thought you should know.”

  “I’ll ride along,” Clay said.

  “No need to disturb your sleep. We’ve got this handled.” Although Pete Thompson’s words were polite on the surface, the tone was dismissive. It was clear he didn’t think Clay was disciplined enough to chase away wolves in the middle of the night.

  “I’ll meet you at the barn. Have my horse saddled up.”

  “Suit yourself,” Thompson said, but the man sounded annoyed.

  Clay shook his head and went back inside the bedroom. The room was still dark, but he could make out Lacey’s outline as she sat on the edge of his bed.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  “There was another wolf sighting,” Clay said. “Mind if I turn on a light? I need to get dressed.”

  Lacey flipped on the lamp beside the bed. Worry had replaced her sleepiness. “I want to come.”

  Clay paused in rooting through his drawer for a pair of jeans. He pivoted in her direction. This conversation needed eye contact. Wolves remained a strained subject, and he didn’t want her thinking he was hiding something. “Are you sure you can handle riding the land with your concussion?”

  She climbed from the bed. “I should come. I’ll manage. My light-headedness has been lessening. Besides, it’s dark, so there’s no light to aggravate my symptoms.”

  “If I show up with you in tow, Pete and the rest of the men will know we’re sleeping together. Thompson won’t keep it silent,” Clay pointed out. He knew her meeting with her grandfather hadn’t gone as well as they’d hoped, and she hadn’t even spoken to her mother yet.

  “Clay, I need to make sure the pack is protected.”

  He walked over to her and cupped her cheek. “We won’t do anything other than chase them away. I promise.”

  A mulish expression he recognized from their previous arguments fell over her face. “I need to be there.”

  A flash of hurt sizzled through him. After everything, she still didn’t completely trust him. He dropped his hand, letting it fall limply against his thigh. “I still think it’s a bad idea with your brain injury, but it’s your choice, Lace. If you want, you can ride with me so you can keep your eyes closed. I’ll call Pete and tell him to saddle up Charlie instead. The old gelding has the smoothest gait.”

  “Thanks,” Lacey said. “That would help.”

  “Thompson isn’t going to be happy to see you with me.”

  “I can handle Uncle Pete.”

  Clay wasn’t so sure, but he didn’t have time to argue. Lacey had made up her mind, and he knew she was implacable once she’d made a decision. After Clay called Pete back to tell him to ready Charlie instead, they dressed quickly and in silence. Clay first headed up to Zach’s attic room to let him know what was going on. The teenager mumbled that he’d be fine before he rolled back over. Clay met Lacey on the porch. As they headed toward the stables, he squared his shoulders. As soon as they entered the circle of light by the barn, Pete stomped toward them.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he shouted at Lacey. Hawkins and Stewart turned at the sound of Thompson’s voice. After taking quick stock of the situation, they immediately turned their attention toward the ground. Even though neither had started their ATVs, they pretended to fiddle with the controls. Clearly, the situation made them uncomfortable.

  “I’m here to check on the wolves,” Lacey said calmly, her voice cheerful and bright. It did nothing to mollify Pete. For once, her charm didn’t appear to be working. If anything, her words only enflamed him further.

  “You have no business being on this ranch.” Thompson took a step toward her.

  Protective rage roared inside Clay as he angled his body between Lacey and his foreman. “She’s here on my invite,” Clay told him evenly. “She’s got every right to help chase away the wolves. I suggest we move quickly before we lose one of the herd.”

  Pete shoved him. If Clay hadn’t been anticipating the strike, he would’ve stumbled back into Lacey.

  “You’re just like your father.” Pete grabbed fistfuls of Clay’s shirt and shoved his face into his. “Taking what doesn’t belong to you. Hasn’t your family stolen enough from the Montgomerys?”

  “Last time I checked, I wasn’t a piece of property.” Lacey’s voice no longer sounded sweet. Even though Clay didn’t turn to look at her, he could hear her fury. “This is none of your business.”

  “I’m the foreman!” Thompson pushed at Clay again as he tried to shout in Lacey’s face too. “Everything that happens on this ranch is my damn business.”

  “And I’m the owner.” Clay worked hard to keep his voice regulated
. It wouldn’t help if he lost his temper too.

  “Your grandfather was going senile when he left you this place. You’re nothing but a lazy Easterner with a criminal for a daddy.”

  “His grandfather’s brain was working just fine.” Lacey stepped out from behind Clay. Her body seemed to vibrate with anger just like when she defended the wolf pack. Clay rested his hand on her shoulder, but the gesture did nothing to calm her. “My grandpa and Stanley had breakfast with John Frasier every Sunday, and they would’ve noticed if his mind was starting to slip. Clay belongs on this land, and he’s worked hard to keep this spread alive despite your efforts to undermine him. His granddaddy left this place to the best person for the job.”

  Pete flushed, his whole body tensing like a bull before a charge. When he spoke, spittle flew from his mouth. “I didn’t know head injuries could turn a woman into a whore. You’re nothing but a modern-day Jezebel, spreading your legs and betraying your family for a pretty face.”

  Protective instinct slammed into Clay, and his tenuous grip on his temper slipped. He stepped up to Thompson, leaving only a couple of millimeters between them. He was just as tall as the older man, and he definitely had more muscle. Pete shifted as if finally realizing the city boy could actually pose a threat. Clay didn’t back down. He leaned his face closer to his foreman’s, taking satisfaction when the man flinched.

  “Get off my land,” Clay said quietly.

  “What?” The intense red began to fade from Thompson’s cheeks.

  “I said, Get off my land,” Clay repeated slowly. “You’re fired. When you’ve cooled down, you can come back and pack your things. But you’re out of here.”

  Pure shock flashed across Pete’s features. “You can’t do that.”

  Clay didn’t speak. He just stared hard at Pete and watched as the man’s temper crackled back into flames. Nothing hid his hatred now…not even a thin veil. It burned brightly, but it could no longer singe Clay. His own temper had ignited, and every rancher in the West knew nothing fought wildfire better than a controlled burn.

  Pete spoke, his voice a low hiss. “My family has worked this fucking land almost as long as yours.”