Disbelief and disappointment knocked hard on the door he’d slammed after assuring himself that a visit to the Diamond D would help him relax and figure things out. Instead of serenity, he encountered a cattle ranch turned equine facility operated by a bunch of bungling boys who fancied themselves cowboys, and an all-out unqualified female horse-trainer, who appeared to be afraid of her own shadow. How much more fucked up could his life get?
Rocky interrupted his musings. “I had to let the other guys go. I couldn’t keep them after what happened.” He ground his booted toe into the dirt. “Cryin’ shame too.”
“You did the right thing. You can’t have that kind of disloyalty when your livelihood depends on your crew.”
They stood silent for a moment. Trevor pulled his hat lower against the afternoon sun. As he pondered the impact his words had on his own situation, the female component of his irritation and the sweating sorrel horse emerged from the barn at a moderate lope. They rounded the first barrel on the far side of the arena. She pulled hard on the rein and dug in a heel. The animal followed her lead but refused to change leads midway to the second barrel, making the revolution inside the pocket impossible. This time, the girl kept her seat even though she pitched forward when the horse changed direction. She trotted along the fence and stared at the two men observing from a distance.
Trevor crossed his arms and raised his brows, a silent challenge for her to try again. He cursed himself for the foolishness of the spontaneous dare. He shouldn’t care one way or the other if she ever conquered the cloverleaf pattern.
Horse and rider approached the first barrel again at full speed. The horse raced around then changed his lead and navigated the second barrel without incident. Ketra leaned over the gelding’s withers and rubbed his neck, praising the successful turn as they raced toward the final barrel. After circling the point barrel, she spurred the horse into the barn.
When she disappeared inside, the corners of Trevor’s mouth curled upward.
Rocky slapped him on the back. “You won’t have to worry about her. She may get knocked down, but she always gets back up.”
Trevor nodded, still skeptical. Rocky’d told him he’d be in charge of a few greenhorn cowboys. He hadn’t planned on overseeing a pint-sized female. The girl’s presence meant trouble, especially since he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her. A knot twisted in the pit of his stomach, cinching tighter with each breath. This complication is most unexpected.
By the time he tore his gaze away from the barrel arena Rocky was almost to the smaller barn. Trevor shot a glance over his shoulder at the young men flinging ropes around in the corral before following Rocky. Poor calf. I’d be bawling too. That’s pathetic. He entered the smaller barn and stopped beside Rocky.
“This is feed storage and tack out here. We’ve got a couple of birthing stalls set up, and a breeding chute on the other side.”
“How long you been breeding horses?”
“Since Ketra arrived.”
Trevor struggled to contain his curiosity about Ketra and why a successful man of Rocky’s age would change his entire cattle operation for her. The whole ranch seemed more focused on horses than cattle. He positioned himself for a clear view of the arena where Ketra sat on the horse, watching them. His lips compressed over clamped teeth. Surely Rocky was smart enough not to let a woman, even one of uncommon beauty, dictate his entire operation.
Rocky acknowledged two more cowboys, both of whom appeared more mature than the ones chasing the calf. Trevor nodded to the men, but remained silent, mindful of their curious stares as he accompanied Rocky along the row of bunkhouses.
“The guys stay out here; usually two, sometimes three, to a cabin. If you remember, there’s a cookhouse at the end of this row. Silas is still here. You remember Silas? The guys eat with him or go into town. You can take your meals with them if you want, but your cabin has a full kitchen if you’d rather eat in private. ‘Course you’ll have to fix it yourself.”
They passed the bunkhouses toward a fenced pasture where horses grazed on scrub grass. A high fence divided the field, one side confining a huge paint stallion, the other, several geldings of various colors. “That there beast,” Rocky pointed toward the impressive stallion, “is the spawn of Satan himself. His name is Lucifer for a reason. But,” he added with a sly grin, “he sires the most beautiful babies you’ve seen.” He sobered again. “Do not go near that animal. Dom will tell you what happens if you do.”
In their phone conversation yesterday, Rocky’d informed Trevor that “Dom,” Dominic Greer, regular ranch foreman, was recuperating at his sister, Ruth’s, house in Flagstaff, after being thrown from the mean-spirited spawn of Satan. From his visits during his youth, Trevor remembered Dom as an excellent horseman, the best most cowboys had ever seen. Rocky told him that Dom, now in his early sixties, had been no match for the stallion. Dom’s broken hip and ankle would take several months to heal.
Dominic’s misfortune became part of Trevor’s reason for coming, to take Dom’s place until his own unfortunate employment situation resolved. It provided the perfect excuse to stay at the ranch without revealing his true purpose for being here. And it gave him something to do other than sit around moping all day.
After the tour of the grounds, they ended up back in the main barn. Rustling at the end of her wing suggested Ketra was rubbing down the sorrel. Trevor rebuked himself for even wondering about her.
Rocky removed his hat and wiped sweat from his brow. Trevor opened a few doors, learning the layout of the barn. “As you can see,” Rocky said when Trevor returned to his side, “we’re still just a dog-and-pony show, but—”
“All we need is one more clown,” Ketra looked at Trevor, “and we’ll have us a full-blown circus.”
Her posture suggested a deeper emotion than shyness, as Rocky would have him believe. She stood across from him, shoulders back, head erect, defiance in her bright eyes, eyes the same deep color as the lapis tile countertops he’d installed himself in the kitchen in his apartment in Phoenix. She was shorter than she had appeared in the arena, and stunning, even with a dirt-stained face. He knew by her words and stance that she tested him. He also knew he shouldn’t take the bait. But he seldom ignored impudence.
He jutted his chin. “I saw your stunts outside. Was that the warm-up act, or the main attraction?”
Her lips tightened into a straight line beneath flared nostrils. He guessed her attempt at angry indifference was really an effort to hide the red stain of humiliation spreading across her cheeks.
Rocky placed a hand on her shoulder. “Ketra.” His voice carried a hint of warning.
A twinge of guilt pinched Trevor’s stomach. He shouldn’t be capitalizing on her embarrassment, but the pink blush on her face made certain parts of his anatomy tingle. Not a good sign.
She turned away from his blatant perusal. Rocky wrapped an arm around her waist. Though the old man’s affection for the flaxen-haired beauty was obvious, his admonishment to her perplexed him. What is Rocky’s connection to this woman who’s half his age?
“His father and I are best friends.” Rocky’s words to Ketra were meant to soothe.
Trevor heard her distressed reply. “What we don’t need around here is one more—”
“He’s not like the others. He’s fair and he knows his way around a ranch.”
“Well, that’ll be a nice change then.” She shrugged away from him and opened a door, withdrawing a set of reins and a bridle.
While her opinion of him shouldn’t matter, he found her insinuation, that he was of the same caliber of cowboy as the ones outside, irksome.
She slung the reins over one diminutive shoulder and tried to hoist a saddle over the other. His instincts kicked in and he went to help her with the saddle that undoubtedly weighed as much as she did. From this vantage point he could not ignore how tiny she was compared to his six-foo
t-four frame. He estimated her right at five feet, petite but, well proportioned, with seductive curves under her tight-fitting jeans and well-filled-out button-down shirt. She also appeared older than he had first guessed, not a girl at all, but a full-grown woman.
She stiffened as he reached for the saddle. “I’ve got it.” She sidestepped away from him, hurried down the corridor and disappeared into a stall.
Rocky came up behind him and clamped a hand onto his shoulder. “It’ll work out best if you stay away from her.”
Exactly what he intended to do, but the phrase out of his mouth suggested action to the contrary. “Well, if she works here, that’ll be kind of hard to do.”
Rocky laughed, but his words held no humor. “That wasn’t a suggestion, son.”
Trevor held eye contact with the older man long enough for the warning to sink in. Ketra is off-limits. Then why can’t I stop my focus from drifting down the corridor? She arranged tack on the floor next to a stall where an appaloosa with soft brown eyes waited for its turn in the arena.
“Why is she so skittish?”
Rocky scratched the back of his neck. “She’s been dealt a pretty bad hand. She’s . . . trying to get some things figured out.”
Trevor continued to watch the little blonde as she readied the appaloosa for training. Her head swiveled sideways a couple of times, but her gaze didn’t linger on his.
“Can she carry her weight, or does she expect others to bail her?”
Rocky laughed. “Believe me, son, she is the absolute last person you’ll have to worry about around here.”
Rocky turned to the entrance door and emitted a shrill whistle. Trevor flinched, as did several other men outside, who turned their heads at the summons. “I’ll round everyone up and introduce you before I head into town. I’ll let them know you’ll be in charge until Dominic returns. Or you leave, whichever happens first.”
Trevor nodded. His gaze traveled back down the corridor toward Ketra, but she’d moved out of his line of vision. The soft neigh of a horse and the jingling of tack confirmed her whereabouts. His jaw tightened. He pondered the mystery surrounding Ketra Weston, the mention of a parole officer, and Rocky’s decision to house her and her equine facility here at the Diamond D. A headache formed at the base of his skull, sending radiating shards of agony upward. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eye lids and tried to calm the unease settling in his mid-section.
Chapter Five
“I’m sorry I have to leave you alone on your first night, but I wasn’t expecting you until late tonight,” Rocky said. “I promised Ruth I’d go with her to the hospital this afternoon to take Dom back to her house. That could take several hours.”
“No problem,” Trevor replied. “I should have called you when I left. I didn’t think the vultures would start circling so soon. My boss wanted me away ASAP. He set up a press conference to attract the reporters. That gave me a chance to slip away unnoticed.”
About a dozen cowboys of various shapes, sizes, ages, and ethnicities, assembled inside the barn, quite a few of Mexican and American Indian heritage.
“Kettie,” Rocky called in her direction, “come on and meet Trevor—officially.”
After a mumbled response, he tried again. “It’ll only take a minute, sweetheart. Come on, be a good sport.”
Trevor scrunched his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck. With all the unexpected things he’d encountered at the ranch since his arrival, he could use the time alone tonight to develop some kind of strategy for dealing with the odd assortment of people living here.
The men gathered near the door, some lounging on hay bales, others leaning against the wall. The woman shuffled down the aisle but hung back where the two breezeways intersected, part of the group, but separate.
Rocky made introductions and gave a brief explanation of who was responsible for what chores. He assured that some were more well-seasoned than others, but that all were capable on the back of a horse. At the last statement, Trevor turned to Ketra with a waspish grin. Her chin rose and her eyes narrowed to slits of brilliant blue between thick golden lashes.
“It’s nice to meet you all,” Trevor began but paused when Ketra turned to leave. He called after her. “We’re not done here, Darlin’.”
“I’m done.” She strutted down the corridor then spun back and spat, “And, I’m not your…Darlin’.”
His eyes latched on to her retreating back. A blinding red haze exploded from the back of his skull. Shadowed images of Heather ignoring him, walking away from him, laughing at his bleeding heart floated in front of him. Rage uncoiled from the pit of his stomach, rising like a cobra from a basket to the soulful notes of a snake charmer’s lute. He raised a finger to the assembled cowboys before barreling down the breezeway after her.
He slammed the stall door she’d opened. The unexpected force produced a screech from the outraged woman and a snort from the stalled horse.
She whirled away from him. He frowned at the abject terror in her eyes.
“Don’t touch me.”
“I wasn’t planning on it.” He took a step away from her and relaxed his shoulders. “I expect common courtesy while—”
“Trevor.” Rocky hurried to interrupt the altercation. “I’ll handle this.”
Rocky took her elbow and moved a few paces away. “He looks like Kyle doesn’t he?”
She turned her face away from the hushed inquiry and gazed at the floor. Her hands quivered at her sides.
“Oh, Honey.” Rocky brushed golden tresses behind her sagging shoulders. “I’m so sorry. If I had known….”
She sniffed. “It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting….”
“Come on back to the group for a minute. Give him a chance. I’m sure you’ll change your opinion. The initial shock upset you.”
Rocky placed an arm around her shoulders and guided her back to the center of the barn. She trembled, near hysteria Trevor thought, if her wide eyes were any indication. She withdrew to the corner farthest away from the others, sat on the floor and hugged her knees to her chest. He knew she had no intention of listening or participating in any way. Anger and uncertainty wound tighter in his gut. But something else circled there too, something akin to compassion. Again, Denny’s words slammed against his skull, you’re too angry to be involved.
Ketra’s not Heather, Trevor reprimanded himself, disgusted by his failure to manage his erratic emotions. He’d apologize to her later when he’d calmed down and had full control of his faculties.
Confused but satisfied that he’d at least made his point, he turned his back to her and continued his welcome rhetoric. Rocky, jaw locked, hands flexing at his sides, scrutinized his every move. Rocky warned him to stay away from her, but the terror written on her face made him wonder where he’d crossed the line. He hadn’t intended to frighten her. He only wanted to get her attention, to make a point. He’d bungled the attempt but hoped he could repair the damage later.
Pushing the thought aside to mull over later, he addressed the men. “I won’t tolerate insubordination.”
A burly man with thick biceps snickered and whispered something to the man next to him. When Trevor paused with raised brows, the man said, “I guess we should all be real scared because you can intimidate a little woman.”
Trevor’s sucked in a breath, cursing his carelessness with the girl. “I’ll do what I have to do to prove I mean business. I don’t have patience for anyone,” he glanced at Ketra, “who tries to undermine my authority.”
During the ensuing silence, Trevor sized up each person to see who, besides the dumbshit who’d emphasized his error with Ketra, presented the biggest threat to his position as foreman. From the corner of his eye, he followed the progress of a short, pudgy, youthful-looking man shambling toward Ketra, oblivious of Trevor’s scrutiny.
When the dumbshit with the bulging biceps
made kissing noises, Trevor snapped his head to the corner where Ketra crouched. She didn’t shrink away from the odd man but didn’t reach out to him either. Trevor approached the dumbshit. “You are?”
“Carter Applewhite, sir.” He clicked his booted heels together and executed an exaggerated salute.
Carter’s patronizing tone grated on Trevor’s threadbare nerves. A rousing round of fisticuffs would feel really good right about now. But, he wouldn’t stoop to this idiot’s level.
“Well, Carter Applewhite…” Trevor knocked the man’s elbow down, “you’ve earned yourself two weeks of mucking stalls.”
Carter shot a look at Rocky, then back to Trevor, confusion apparent on his face. “The entire barn?”
“Did I stutter?”
Again, Carter glanced toward Rocky who remained non-committal, his gaze locked on Trevor.
“No, sir.”
Trevor wanted to wipe the sanctimonious expression off his face. Why is he excited about cleaning up horse shit? What the hell is going on around here?
“You can’t do that.” Pushing herself off the floor, Ketra shrieked at Carter. “No, not the entire barn. Stay away from my horses.”
“Just minding the boss.” Carter leered at Ketra, who’d as grown pale as the clouds lazing on the horizon. Momentarily distracted by the rise and fall of her breasts with each labored breath, Trevor nearly missed her panicked eyes lock onto Rocky. Their alarming reactions to his innocent sanction against Carter broadcasted yet another mistake. He was rapidly careening into some weird twilight zone he couldn’t figure out.
He seemed to be making mistakes by the minute. This must be how soldiers felt, like they’d been dropped into the middle of a field riddled with land mines, ready to explode with each step. He needed answers, but first he needed a plan B. The sun reflecting off the windshield of his truck beckoned. It wasn’t too late to drive farther down the road. Away from the madness in this barn.
On Common Ground Page 3