Espino, Stacey - Hardcore Cowboys [Ride 'em Hard 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Stacey Espino

  It must have been by some miracle that he glanced out the passenger side window when he did, or he’d never have noticed the stalled vehicle. He wouldn't have guessed the large snow-covered hill to be a car, but these roads were imprinted on his brain, and there wasn’t a hint of a slope in the topography on this long stretch of prairie.

  The hazard lights were faintly noticeable under the thick snow cover. Wyatt couldn’t imagine anyone being stranded in this weather. The vehicle was probably abandoned, but to ease his conscience, he had to check to be sure. He pulled his truck alongside the car, zipped up his jacket, pulled on a tuque, and took a breath before braving the unforgiving wind and sleet. With his flashlight in hand, he plodded through the storm.

  As expected, the air was sharp and merciless against his exposed flesh, beating at his cheeks like a thousand pinpricks. He rounded the front of his pickup, cutting across the headlights towards the driver’s side door of the abandoned car. Wyatt had to brush away the snow just to find the metal and glass beneath. When he had a section clear, he aimed the flashlight into the interior. He hoped to find it vacant so he could be on his way and out of the elements. He could already envision a warm fire and hot chocolate like his momma used to make. But instead of an empty seat, he saw a bundle under a blanket. All he could spy were some brown curls peeking out from a thick black hat.

  Shit! The person didn’t move, and it terrified him that he may be looking at a dead body. No way could a human survive that long in a stalled car. Could he have made a difference if he left The Bucking Bronco an hour earlier? Familiar guilt welled up inside him as he planned his next move. The door was snowed in, and when he tried the handle it was locked. Knocking on the glass with the flashlight didn’t awaken the lone occupant, which only confirmed his suspicion that this wouldn’t be a rescue.

  Wyatt navigated the thick snow to the rear of his truck, where he dug in his utility trunk for his compact shovel. He was always well prepared. He had to be when he was on the road as much as he was. His truck always had a full tank of gas, with extra in canisters, along with everything he’d need in an emergency. He began to shovel the area outside the driver’s side door, going as fast as he could with the punishing sleet whipping his face and stealing his breath.

  Once the way was clear, he still couldn’t get inside due to the locked door. He pounded his fist on the window in a futile attempt to wake the driver. There was no other choice. He had to break the window. Glass would land on the person, but their face was covered in case they were still breathing, which he doubted. He fished out his monkey wrench from his tool box, turned his head, and used his full strength against the glass. It shattered on contact, breaking into thick bits. He pulled the broken safety glass that remained out of the way and leaned into the car. The first thing he noted was the absence of a foul smell. He expected the stench of death to overpower his senses, but it didn’t.

  Wyatt cautiously plucked the woolen cap off the driver’s head, releasing an array of wild curls. The driver was a woman, her eyes closed and face the most angelic thing he’d ever seen. Her skin wasn’t ashen, so he patted her cheeks with his palm. Although she was cold, she was soft and had some lingering body heat. She didn’t awaken, but he noticed her lip twitch, which was the final bit of proof that the stranger was indeed alive. He released the tense breath he held, staring at her for a few moments longer while his fears filtered out of his body. After unlocking and opening the door, he scooped up her petite body, blankets and all, and carried her close to his chest. He kicked her car door shut and managed to open the passenger side of his truck while holding her. She groaned, a faint sound, but never opened her eyes. He settled her on her side and then returned to his driver’s seat a minute later.

  “It’s okay, darlin’. You’re in good hands now.” He knew she couldn’t hear him, but he felt the need to reassure the poor little thing. His brothers would know what to do, and home wasn’t far now. Val and Cord volunteered for the community fire department, so they had all sorts of medical training. Wyatt hoped all the girl needed was warmth and rest and didn’t have any lasting damage from the cold. His entire world shifted in a heartbeat—all that mattered was the girl.

  * * * *

  Val checked the phone lines again, but they were still down. No phone, no satellite, no electricity. Not much fun when he was holed up with his brother for God knew how long. At least they were prepared, so they wouldn’t suffer. They agreed not to use their gas-powered generators until absolutely necessary. With heat from the woodstove and fireplace, they couldn’t complain. Val couldn’t help but worry how his neighbors were faring, but it would be suicide to head out in this monstrous storm to check on them. Everyone just had to hold tight and wait it out. Val and Cord would deal with the aftermath both on their own ranch and around town when the skies cleared.

  The large room was eerily quiet with only the howl of the wind against the boarded windows. “What do you think the purpose of life is?” Val asked. He couldn’t sit still, pacing the room, feeling antsier than usual. He’d spent too long trapped in the house when he was used to working and keeping busy. Quiet reflection would eat him alive if the storm didn’t die down soon.

  “Where the fuck did that come from?” Cord was lying on the sofa, taking a break from polishing every bit of tack they had in the mud room. They were both bored to tears.

  “It’s a straightforward question.”

  “The purpose of life? The hell if I know. You work, get old, and then you die.” His brother peeked open an eye and lifted his head slightly. “You’re not getting all emotional on me, are you? I’d rather face the storm, in that case.”

  Val groaned and dropped into his chair, resting his feet on the wooden coffee table. “We’re past our prime, brother. Don’t you think of things like family and children?”

  They rarely talked about settling down. The mere idea of splitting up, getting married, and moving on—away from each other—was not something either of them wanted to contemplate. But as the years passed by, Val thought more and more about life and the future. Farming wasn’t as fulfilling as it had been. He wanted something to live for.

  “You’re just pent-up. The storm will pass soon enough.” Cord returned to his feigned sleep, draping a forearm across his eyes.

  Val couldn’t sit still. He bolted back up and looked around the darkened room, lit by firelight. “This place is a fucking shrine. Look at it!” He ran a finger over the thick dust on the mantle. Nothing had changed over the years. They dared not touch a thing, so afraid of erasing memories of the past. But life was passing them by. “We can’t keep living in the past.”

  Now Cord sat up with a scowl marring his features. “Cabin fever’s setting in, bro. Go take a shower or something.”

  His emotions—anger, fear, anxiety, depression—welled up inside him. He tried to rein back the floodgates, but they wanted out. “There’s nothing wrong with me, Cord. Don’t you see? We’re going nowhere. In five years, ten years, we’ll still be here. Alone. Sitting together and looking around this room that never changes.”

  “So you want to redecorate?”

  Val ran his hands through his hair, ready to pull it out by the roots. “Never mind!”

  * * * *

  Cord knew what his brother was talking about, but he wasn’t in the mood to hash it out. He thought too much like his twin not to understand the emotions threatening to undo him. Their life was fucked up. On the outside, they were respectable ranchers working a successful cattle operation. They volunteered in the community, lent a helping hand to neighbors, and had a good reputation in town. But when the day was done, they came home to an empty house.

  Fuck, he knew what he needed. Cord wanted to eat some pussy. More than that. He wanted a real woman, one who would love him, give him a reason to get up in the morning. Most of their neighbors were married with children. He loved playing with the kids and envied the other farmers who had kin to pass down their knowledge and memories to. There would
be no need of a shrine in their house if the present outshined the past. But they’d both avoided serious relationships. Cord couldn’t explain the connection between him and Val, but it was strong, unlike anything he’d ever shared with another person. It was probably something to do with being an identical twin, but knowing why didn’t change the fact they couldn’t stand the thought of moving in different directions. With Wyatt off running the circuit, they only had each other. Even his brother wasn't enough to fill the void these days. What he needed was something intangible.

  Chapter Four

  The Carson ranch came into view. More like a shadow in a snow globe. Wyatt couldn’t tell where the narrow dirt road started, and deep trenches bordered the path to the house. If he didn’t turn at the right time, he’d end up in a ditch, far from the front door. He looked at the sleeping girl beside him, curled on her side. The sight only spurred him on, made him determined to get her to the house. He’d made her his responsibility, and he wouldn’t let her down. The heat in the truck was so high, sweat beaded on his brow, but she still wouldn’t wake up. Who was she? Where was she heading?

  Thank God he turned at the right time. Even after a year absence, he still knew the old ranch like the back of his hand. The snow here was even thicker than it had been on the roads leading to the house. His brothers mustn’t have plowed since the storm started. A feeling of dread tightened his chest, and he hoped everything was okay. Then he saw smoke coming from the chimney, and a smile lifted his lips. Not only couldn’t he wait to see Cord and Val, but they’d be able to help the girl he’d rescued.

  When he drove as close as he dared without the risk of getting trapped in the heavy snow, he dropped down into the knee-deep flurry and navigated to the passenger-side door. He gently lifted the girl into the cradle of his arms and painstakingly made his way to the side door. Wyatt kicked the heavy wooden entrance with his cowboy boot a few times, unwilling to shift his precious cargo.

  A minute later, the door swung open. Cord stood in the doorway with a rifle cocked and ready. When recognition flitted across his eyes, his jaw went slack, and he lowered his weapon. “Wyatt? That you?”

  “I hope I’m welcome, but right now I need your help.”

  Cord set his rifle to the side of the door and reached out to take the bundle in Wyatt’s arms. “Of course you’re welcome, brother. For the love of God, we’ve been praying you’d show up sooner or later.” Acting with the calmness earned from his training in the fire department, he set the girl down on the sofa. A trail of melted snow dripped down on the hardwood in their wake. “Who you have here?”

  “Don’t know.” Wyatt shrugged off his jacket and hung it up on the familiar coat-tree by the door. The house was warm enough to melt his frosty exterior. His face heated from the change of temperature. “I found her car stalled in a snowdrift. She hasn’t gained consciousness.”

  “Val!” Cord called up the stairs for his twin. Seemed they couldn’t do much without each other, even though they were both more than experienced in dealing with medical victims.

  His other brother raced down the stairs but came to an abrupt halt when he spotted Wyatt standing in the family room. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Wyatt Carson. I thought you were dead.”

  “Well, isn’t that a fine way to greet your brother.” Wyatt smirked.

  Val was the spitting image of Cord, but Wyatt could usually tell his brothers apart. Although similar in personality, Val was more open with his feelings, while Cord kept things bottled in. On close inspection, Val had three beauty marks on his neck, but Cord had none. A little trick he used if he wasn’t sure whom he was talking to.

  “You two can reminisce later. Val, get the medical kit. This girl has severe hypothermia.”

  Val shifted his attention to Cord, who knelt beside the sofa, peeling the layers of blanket off the prone body. “Who the hell is that?” As Val spoke he moved into action, digging through the cupboards in the kitchen. He returned with one of the red insulated bags they took with them on emergencies. It carried everything they'd need to do her vitals. Val dropped down beside Cord. Wyatt watched from several feet away, not wanting to get in the way.

  “How long was she outside?” asked Val accusatorily, feeling her head and then her pulse.

  “I have no idea. Could have been hours or days. No way to tell unless she wakes up.” Wyatt wished he had more information to offer, but he was just as clueless. He did the best thing he thought to do, which was bring her home to his brothers for help.

  “It all needs to come off,” said Cord, beginning to carefully undress the sleeping girl. “Wyatt, get an armful of blankets from the chest in the spare room upstairs. Bring them down and warm them by the fire.”

  “Should we put her in a warm bath?” asked Wyatt, trying to be helpful.

  Both brothers turned to him with matching scowls. “Are you nuts? She could have some serious frostbite. What she needs is dry warmth. Body heat.” Cord slid her boots off her feet, then her socks. Her feet were a shade of blue. Wyatt knew the deadly effects of frostbite. Even their chickens lost toes in the winter from scratching about for food. He hoped it wasn’t too late to bring her body back to health.

  “You’re right, Cord. Get your clothes off and lay down beside her.” Val turned to Wyatt, still rooted in place. “The blankets!”

  “Right.” Wyatt bound up the creaky wooden stairs to the second level, taking two at a time. He flicked the light switch in the upper hall, but the power was out. Luckily he had been born and raised in the old Carson home. He could find his way to the different rooms with his eyes closed.

  Wyatt was used to being in charge, only accountable for himself and his own actions. The life of a drifter had always suited him. But he felt a deep-seated sense of relief that his brothers were here to help. He’d been on the road too long and needed to stop for a while, to breathe. Most importantly, he needed that girl to open her eyes, smile, and have no lasting damage. From the moment he realized she wasn’t dead, she had become his responsibility.

  * * * *

  Cord stood up and unbuttoned his checkered shirt and then tugged off his white undershirt. Val was busy easing the girl’s clothes off. Her body was chilled to the marrow and an unhealthy color. He could tell she’d have a beautiful olive complexion when not frozen half to death. She wore a pink lace bra, with mismatched blue panties. Cute. He mentally scolded himself for appreciating her soft curves and flat stomach. Cord needed to remember who he was. He held a position of authority as an emergency worker and had to maintain a professional nature when dealing with patients.

  “Skin to skin. Come on. She’s barely breathing.” Val shifted her body to the side to make room for Cord. If she’d lost consciousness from the cold, her internal organs could be affected, and her heart weak. If Wyatt hadn’t shown up when he did, she’d have never woken up from her sleep.

  Cord stretched out against the length of her body. Her cool skin was a shock against his warm flesh, but he pressed in firmly alongside her, attempting to offer the dry warmth her body needed. He tucked her head into the crook of his arm and stared down at her, cupping her cheek in hopes of bringing some color to her ashen face. Her lashes were thick and long, curling outward. Her nose was small and slightly upturned. But those lips, even void of a healthy pink hue, were plump and exquisitely shaped—made to be kissed.

  “She’s a beauty, ain’t she?” said Val.

  Cord turned to see his brother appreciating her from his perch on the arm of the sofa. Of course they had the same taste in women. This girl was petite with beautiful brown curls and delicate features. They’d had enough of the blonde, blue-eyed farmers’ daughters. It was always women with that unique, exotic flare who pulled them in and held them captive, but those types of women were few and far between in the great open plains of Alberta. What was she doing out here in the middle of nowhere by herself? Where was she heading? Cord wondered what her story was, but pulled himself out of his curiosity. All that mattered n
ow was her health. He needed to bring up her core temperature.

  “She’s something else,” Cord agreed. “Fetch me Ma’s old bean-warmers. Put them on the woodstove and heat them up.”

  “Good idea.” Val slipped off the sofa and set off to find the hand-made heating pads in the kitchen.

  Their mother had used old floral dressmaking fabric and filled them with dried beans and corn kernels before sewing them closed. She’d heat them on the stove when they came home after working a long day on the ranch. They were great for sore joints and aching shoulders. Right now they’d help increase the girl’s body temperature.

  “Come on, darlin’. Wake up, sweet thing.”

  Her little body molded right against the center of his, so fragile and feminine. He continued to coo in her ear but received no response, not even a twitch of recognition. If she’d been outside long enough, there could be lasting brain damage.

  Wyatt came down the stairs with an armful of old patchwork quilts. “Cord! What in hell are you doing with your clothes off?” His face bore a heated scowl as he raked his gaze over their mostly nude bodies on the sofa.

  “I’m warming her up,” he said. “Now do as I said and warm those blankets by the fire, then cover us up.”

  Val and Wyatt knocked shoulders as they busied themselves by the old cast-iron woodstove. They usually kept a kettle of water on the burner during the winter months to humidify the air. Otherwise, it kept the house a lot warmer than the open fireplace could alone. A few minutes later, Val returned with the heating pads.