Wild Cowboy Country

by Erin Marsh

  “Considering it was my land and my animal, I don’t think they’ll take this too seriously. Besides, it was probably just kids messing around.”

  “I’m going to give my boss a call later this morning and give her a heads-up,” Lacey said. “Something doesn’t seem right to me. Even if it is just a bunch of teens, look how much damage a group of them did to the wolf den.”

  Before Clay could respond, the tread of boots on the wooden floorboards broke into their conversation. Considering the attack on Speckles and the idea Pete Thompson could be after revenge, unease trickled through Clay as he sprang to his feet. He waved at Lacey to stay seated as he quickly moved to the stall door. He doubted his old foreman would ambush him in broad daylight, but if Thompson had purposely herded a cow into a dangerous ravine, he wasn’t acting sensibly.

  To Clay’s relief, it wasn’t Pete’s lanky form but Rick Hernandez’s bulkier one. “Oh crap,” Clay said. “I forgot all about our meeting.”

  “No problem,” Rick said with a friendly smile on his face. “I heard you had trouble last night. June’s tea shop is buzzing with rumors. Some people are saying wolves, and then others are claiming a human drove one of your cows into a dried-up arroyo.”

  Clay ran his hand through his hair and then jammed his hat back into place. “Lacey found a shoe print in the mud, so it looks like it was a person, not lobos.”

  Rick let out a whistle. “That doesn’t sound good. Did you have to put the cow down?”

  Lacey rose to her feet. “The wounds were mostly superficial, and Lou Warrenton was able to patch up the deeper ones.”

  Rick entered the stall, and Clay leaned on the door as he watched the other man inspect Speckles. His hands moved competently, and when Ace lifted his head and butted Rick’s leg, he rubbed the dog behind his ears.

  “She’s not young.” Rick tilted his chin in the cow’s direction.

  “No.” Clay cleared his throat as he glanced at Lacey. She gave him a slight nod of encouragement. Maybe it was time he stopped cultivating his aloof personae.

  “Speckles was the first calf I helped birth, and she’s part of the reason I became a rancher.”

  Rick glanced at him in surprise. Clay didn’t see any amusement or, worse, derision in his eyes. Instead, Rick said, “When you grow up on a ranch, there’s always that special animal or two. Mine was my horse, Lightning. She died a couple years ago, but she used to come galloping over every time she saw me. It probably had something to do with the fact that I’d always slip her sugar cubes when my father wasn’t looking.”

  “Lacey says ranching’s in your blood.”

  “Yup,” Rick said. “My mom calls us all horse and cow mad. Even on the longest days during calving season, I wouldn’t trade the saddle for a desk job.”

  “Me either.”

  Clay didn’t have any trouble detecting the shock in Rick’s brown eyes. Evidently, neither did Lacey. She spoke quickly, her voice bright. “Clay, why don’t you show Rick your plans for the ranch? I can stay here with your cow. I’ll call you if anything goes wrong.”

  Clay frowned. He needed a new foreman, and Rick seemed like the best candidate and the only one with ties to Sagebrush Flats. He couldn’t afford to blow this interview, but Lacey hadn’t slept in days. He wanted her safely tucked into bed rather than sitting in a stall keeping watch over Speckles.

  “Lacey, you need to lie down.”

  She waved away his concern with her smartphone. “I have to call my boss anyway. You two won’t be gone long. I’ll crash as soon as you get back.”

  “Lace—”

  Rick made a clearing sound in the back of his throat. “I grew up with Lacey. She’s as stubborn as they come.”

  Instead of looking insulted, she practically beamed. “See? I’m impossible to wear down. As June Winters would say, I’m as stubborn as good Georgian granite.”

  Still, Clay hesitated, but Lacey made a shooing motion. With a sigh, he left the stall with Rick following. As he and Rick saddled the horses, he called Hawkins to tell him to check in on Lacey.

  Rick let Clay do most of the talking during the first part of the ride. He nodded occasionally, not giving a lot of his thoughts away. As soon as Clay mentioned ciénegas, the younger man came alive as he dismounted to inspect the work Clay had already done to reroute the water back to its natural course. Ace, who’d been following them, bounded headlong into the mud. He rolled around in pure doggy joy until his white coat looked reddish-brown.

  “I can’t get over how wet the soil is here.” Rick lifted one of his boots to inspect the muck clinging to the sole. Water immediately seeped into the impression his foot had left.

  Clay jammed his thumb in the direction of the source of the ciénega. “The water has really started to pool this year, especially with the spring melt. I’m hoping if we can add more dams, it’ll spread out even more. I’ve noticed the quality of the soil is even starting to change. It’s getting blacker.”

  Rick’s eyes swept toward the shimmer of water. “Hell, this place even smells wet. I feel like I’m back East.”

  They moved closer, their boots making squelching sounds. Ace loped over to them, his tongue lolling from his mouth. Leopard frogs plopped into the water, while the sharp chirps of horned larks formed a pleasant chorus. The desert always boasted more life than the traditional image of a dry wasteland, but the Valhalla ciénega possessed its own special energy. Clay loved sneaking out here during the spring and summer and capturing pictures of the animals. He’d even snapped a shot of a great blue heron last year.

  “I know I’m repeating myself, but I’m still in disbelief over how marshy the land is,” Rick said.

  “We’re keeping the cattle off this section of the land to let it recover,” Clay said. “But the plan is to allow them to graze.”

  As they started walking back to the horses, Rick bent to inspect a prickly pear. “You ever think about letting the cattle eat these?”

  “We already do,” Clay said. “The men aren’t too fond of singeing off the spines, but they’ve gotten used to it.”

  “I’ve read about a university in Mexico doing a study on what supplements will help cattle better digest the cactus,” Rick said. “I could look into it more if you wanted.”

  “Sounds good,” Clay said. The words applied to more than just Rick’s offer to research the consumption of nopals by cattle. Lacey’s assessment of the young man was spot on. He was fascinated by holistic ranch management. Curious about Rick’s ideas on protecting the livestock, Clay asked, “How would you improve the herd’s safety given the local wolf populations?”

  Rick shot him an assessing glance. Everyone knew Clay’s opinion of the lobos.

  “During college, I worked at a couple different ranches during the summer, so I could observe multiple ways of running an operation. At one of the spreads in Montana near Yellowstone National Park, the owner had a lot of success with low-stress herding. I showed my dad and Lacey’s uncle, and it’s worked out pretty well.”

  “Lacey mentioned something about that,” Clay said. “She says it increases the cattle’s natural herding instincts and makes them less vulnerable to wolves.”

  “Our losses to the lobos have decreased a lot,” Rick said. “We’ve also experimented with fladry fences and motion detector alarms. There’s a lot you could do here on Valhalla.”

  Clay nodded as both of them fell into silence. He mulled over their conversation, and he could tell Rick was doing the same. They turned their horses away from the ciénegas, and Clay ended their tour on the knoll overlooking the creek bank. Ace ran into the water with a large splash. He leaped into the air again, sending more water flying. At least the spray washed off his muddy fur.

  Rick didn’t say anything at first. He just leaned forward in the saddle, watching Ace play. Then he turned, his expression thoughtful. “You’re not what I expe
cted.”

  For the first time since firing Pete Thompson, a trickle of relief flowed through Clay. “You’re exactly how Lacey described you.”

  A slow smile spread across Rick’s face. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

  Clay laughed. “She’s the one who recommended you. Said you’d be perfect for the job, and she’s rarely wrong.”

  Rick’s grin grew wider. “I was surprised when you called me even though I’d heard about Pete being fired.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d even agree to a meeting,” Clay admitted.

  “It’s a good opportunity to become a foreman at my age.”

  “Even if it is Valhalla Ranch making the offer.” Clay filled in Rick’s unspoken words.

  “I didn’t say that,” Rick said quickly.

  “You didn’t need to,” Clay said. “I know what people think when they hear the name Stevens. If you come to work for me, some people might see it as siding with the enemy.”

  Rick’s grin returned then. “I’ve never been a rebel before. This might be fun.”

  “Does that mean you’re interested in the foreman position?”

  “Hell yes. I like what you have planned for Valhalla.”

  “All right.” Clay tried to mask the excitement roaring through him at the prospect of having a foreman who shared his vision. He hadn’t thought Lacey’s idea would work. Rick was taking a chance, but hell, Clay was accepting a risk too. The younger man might have lived on a ranch his whole life, but he’d never run one. And Clay wasn’t that seasoned either. Thompson had called a lot of the shots, especially right after Clay’s grandfather died.

  Clay held out his hand, and Rick took it without any hesitation. By the way the younger man pumped the handshake, Clay knew he was just as enthusiastic about returning the ranch to its former glory. It was going to be hard, backbreaking work, but for the first time, Clay had people supporting him. That made the task a hell of a lot less daunting.

  Despite the meeting’s success, unease trickled through Clay as they rode back to the compound with Ace leading the way. Things never went easily, and he couldn’t escape the feeling that a huge gaping hole was about to destroy his carefully laid plans.

  * * *

  “What do you mean there are wolves missing from the pack?” Lacey shouted into the phone, forgetting to modulate her voice. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

  “Because you need to rest,” Lacey’s boss said. “You’re due back to work soon, and I planned to tell you then.”

  “But…” Lacey protested as her frustration swelled. The wolves were her babies, and if one of them went missing, she wanted to know about it. Immediately.

  “Lacey, we’re staying on top of this. I promise.”

  “Do you think they’re being hunted?”

  “They were younger males. We believe they’ve moved on, found new territory. That’s what we want, right?”

  “What do the trackers say?”

  “We hadn’t tagged any of the missing wolves.”

  Lacey bit off a swear word. No matter what her boss said, something didn’t feel right.

  “Lacey, I’m making sure Kylie is regularly checking on the pack. I promise they’re in good hands.”

  “I know.” Lacey forced a calm she didn’t feel. “Kylie is a good ranger, and everyone cares about the wolf project, not just me.”

  Her boss’s voice relaxed too. “We all know this forced time off is hard on you. That’s why we didn’t tell you. We didn’t want to upset you when you’re not up for long trips into the backcountry.”

  Lacey rested her head against the wooden slats of the barn and squeezed her eyes shut. As much as she enjoyed volunteering at the zoo, she needed to get back to the wilderness. “What are the wolves’ identification numbers?”

  Her boss told her. Lacey didn’t need to pull up their database. She knew exactly which ones she meant. She visualized them now. M1350 was a lanky lobo who still hadn’t packed on all of his adult muscle. He was playful and curious. She could easily envision him striking out to form his own pack, but she could also picture him wandering into a trap. M1371 was stealthier. He liked to keep to himself, and he was the best stalker. She also could imagine him leaving for better hunting grounds…or getting into trouble for shadowing livestock.

  “Thanks.” Lacey hung up the phone and closed her eyes again. She wished she’d insisted on tagging each animal, but she hadn’t wanted to interfere more than necessary. Maybe she should’ve. The Mexican gray wolves were so critically endangered, losing even one was significant. To have two healthy males disappear concerned Lacey.

  “Lace?” At the sound of Clay’s voice, she glanced up. He looked exhausted. Two sleepless nights were wearing on him too. The attack on his cow had hit him hard. He cared about his herd, about his animals. Lacey would never deny that. But did that love mean he would break the law to protect his cattle? Would he kill one of her wolves and not tell her? Even after they’d slept together?

  “Is something wrong?” Clay glanced at her, his blue-green eyes soft with concern. He reached to cup her face, and she reflexively flinched away. He stepped back, his expression immediately guarded. When he spoke, his voice had roughened. “What is it, Lace?”

  She watched him, part of her feeling guilty at suspecting him, the other wondering if she’d be a fool not to. “Would you take me on a hike?”

  “A hike?” Clay asked, clearly confused.

  “Some of the wolves are missing, and I want to check on the pack.”

  His bewilderment cleared, and he watched her with concern. “Lace, that’s out in the backcountry.”

  “I know.” She wished her voice didn’t sound like a challenge.

  He took a breath as if steadying himself. “Are you sure you’re up to that?”

  She crossed her arms. “Is there a reason you don’t want me to go?”

  Like thunderclouds moving over a lake, frustration darkened his aquamarine eyes. “Other than the fact that you’re suffering from a brain injury and hiking for miles under the bright desert sun isn’t the best idea?”

  Lacey knew she shouldn’t push, but she couldn’t stop herself. She felt so damn tired of constantly battling light-headedness, constantly working to think. She couldn’t control the ball of hurt and anger forming inside her. Instead of answering Clay’s question, she just stared at him. Hard.

  “Shit, Lace, I didn’t hurt your wolves.”

  “But you would if it was legal.” It wasn’t a question, but she’d retained enough self-control not to add or if you thought you wouldn’t get caught.

  Clay shoved his hand into his hair, making the blond ends stand up as he pushed his cowboy hat around his neck. “Hell, Lacey, I’m not sure what I’d do if the law changed now that we’re together. I know how much those wolves mean to you. I certainly wouldn’t kill one without telling you. That would be a breach of the trust you’ve given me…or at least I thought you’d given me.”

  She wanted to relax then, to accept his words. But that dark, ugly bubble wouldn’t allow it. Not yet.

  “Then why won’t you take me to the lobos?”

  Clay closed his eyes briefly, and Lacey could tell he was trying to maintain control. “First, I never said I wouldn’t. I’m worried about your stamina. I care about you, Lace. A lot. Which is why I’m trying to be patient and why I’d never betray you by secretly killing one of the pack and then climbing into bed with you.”

  The fight left Lacey in a sudden whoosh. The doctor had warned that she could have abrupt shifts in her mood, and to her horror, tears pricked her eyes. She swiped at them, and the ice in Clay’s blue irises immediately thawed.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I—I…” The tears spilled over and turned into a gushing waterfall that put Yosemite’s to shame. Hell, she wasn’t a crier. Ever.

  Two strong m
ale arms encircled her. Burying her face against Clay’s warmth, she tried to squelch her tears. He felt so wonderfully solid. Gently, he rubbed her back as he rested his chin on her head. “It’s okay to cry, Lace. It’s been a long two days.”

  “I can’t think,” she admitted. “I’m just so worried about the pack. I haven’t seen them in over a month, and now I learn this.”

  She felt him nod. “When you feel up to it, I swear we’ll visit the wolves. We’ll take plenty of breaks and bring along lots of water. But right now, you need rest. Neither of us has slept in two days, and you can’t go without sleep.”

  “I know.” Her voice sounded soggy even to her own ears.

  “What do you say about taking a nap in my bed?” Clay said. “I’ll make sure no one disturbs you.”

  “What about you?”

  “I have work to do around the ranch, especially since you volunteered us to help set up June Winters’s wedding at the zoo in a few days.”

  Lacey slowly rose to her feet. Clay needed a break too, but she knew better than to argue. She’d grown up around ranchers and understood the responsibilities they faced. That same work ethic had shaped her too, but she had no more energy left. She felt as drained as a long-dead car battery.

  Taking Clay up on his offer, she wearily climbed the stairs to his room. When she collapsed on the mattress, she could smell his scent. Pulling the blanket up around her chin, she snuggled down…but she missed him. Missed his warmth. Missed his strength. Missed his ability to distract her.

  Chapter 10

  “You sure you want me to give you a tour and not Lacey?” Zach asked Clay as they finished setting up tables for June and Magnus’s wedding reception. The teenager had a knowing smirk on his face, which Clay ignored. He’d become better at navigating Zach’s attitude. The kid had more layers than a giant jawbreaker, but Clay was beginning to recognize the kid’s core personality.

  “I’d like to see what you’ve been doing here as a volunteer. Bowie and Lacey keep telling me how much of a help you’ve been.”