On Common Ground

by Jansen Schmidt

  “Sounds like Dad,” Trevor said.

  “And from what I’ve seen here in the past couple of days, the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”

  Trevor narrowed his eyes at Rocky, wishing he could argue the point. Damn the DNA that gave him the same short fuse as his father.

  “But that’s not all,” Rocky continued. “No, your dad complicated matters even more. He asked out Monica Hampton, the only person my sister ever truly hated. Mike knew that, of course, but his only fool thought was to hurt Mary Jo.”

  “Mission accomplished,” Trevor said.

  “After about two weeks of dating Monica, your dad realized that he’d made a mistake. He broke it off with Monica and tried to win back Mary Jo.” Leather creaked when Rocky shifted positions in the chair. “They dated again for a few weeks and talked about getting married down the road. Then, about a week before Mary Jo was headed off to Oklahoma, Monica announced that she was in the family way. Needless to say, Mary Jo decided she couldn’t commit to Mike until he figured out what he was going to do.”

  Trevor sat his beer down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. He cradled his head in his hands and spoke to the floor. “Please don’t tell me Monica is my real mom.”

  “Hell, no! That woman was nothing but a conniving serpent. After Mary Jo went away, Monica conveniently ‘lost’ the baby when she realized there was no way she was going to convince Mike to marry her.”

  “Lost, or aborted the baby?”

  Rocky set his nearly empty bottle on the table next to his chair and stood. “Well, that there is the million-dollar question.” He paced the length of the room, stopped, and rested against a desk positioned in the corner of the room under a window. “Mike agreed to do the right thing and assume responsibility for the baby. But he isn’t sure there even was a baby. Rumor has it Monica wanted to marry Mike, so she concocted the pregnancy story. When he wouldn’t propose, she changed her story.”

  Rocky picked up a picture frame from the desk and examined the photo for a moment. “In any event, it was the end for Mike and Mary Jo, even though they loved each other deeply.”

  Trevor tapped his thumbs together while he processed that information.

  “Mary Jo adjusted to college life and married a real nice man named Robert Weston. Ketra’s dad. Your dad, as you know, married a nice woman named Karen, and all’s well that ends well. But given the history, every time Mary Jo wanted to come home to Arizona, or your dad wanted to visit the ranch, I made dang sure their paths never crossed. That’s why you and Ketra never happened upon each other. Until now.”

  “Makes sense. I guess.”

  Through the window, shadows lengthened into distorted shapes on the porch. “Have they ever seen each other since?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “So, when do we ride out?”

  Rocky sat back down and heaved a huge sigh. “I figure we’ll be ready Friday.”

  “Okay. Anything I need to do, or need to know beforehand?”

  A timer buzzed in the kitchen. Rocky rose and headed for the kitchen. “I’m going to let Lee and Stucky run the actual round up. You get our guys up to the meeting place on the ridge, then hang back. Carter and Jaret have worked under Lee before. Stucky’s the meanest son of a bitch you’ll ever meet. I think it’s best, since you’re new, to let them run the show. They’re from the Chisholm spread.”

  Dishes clinked together, and the aroma of hot Mexican food plundered Trevor’s nose.

  Rocky spoke from the kitchen. “Clint and Milo Fargo are brothers from the ranch west of here. They have a pretty small spread. They run their herd with mine for protection more than anything. They have cougar problems on their side of the ridge. They lose more head than I do.”

  Trevor joined Rocky in the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe while Rocky set dishes and silverware on the table.

  “Okay, so I get the guys up to the ridge, hang back, take orders and run the cattle back here into the south pasture. From there, we separate the brands, divvy up the unbranded between the ranches and send everyone on their merry way. That about it?”

  “For starters. Then the fun begins; we brand and cut ours.”

  “Remember, you said you’re doing the cutting. I hate that part.” Trevor cringed.

  “I never figured you to be the squeamish sort.” Rocky chuckled as he sat a steaming casserole dish on the table.

  “What man wouldn’t be squeamish cutting off testicles?”

  “I bet in your line of work you’re met up with some men you’d like to castrate.”

  “We let the DA do that. She’s one heartless bitch. I’ve heard she carries scissors.”

  Rocky laughed. “Let’s eat.”

  After a meal of enchiladas and Spanish rice, Trevor left Rocky’s house for his own lonely one. A light shone from the barn. He detoured to find the door of Ketra’s tack room open. He poked his head inside. She leaned over a work bench, engrossed in a project, her glorious hair cascading around her shoulders. Trevor cleared his throat. She jumped and dropped the spur she had been holding on to the wooden work bench.

  “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Huge eyes stared at him. She wrapped her hands around her waist under his scrutiny. “Everything okay out here?”

  She nodded and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

  “Need any help with anything?”

  She shook her head and rubbed her hands up and down her arms.

  “It’s getting cold. You should either call it a night or put on a jacket.”

  “I’m fine.” She picked up the broken spur and a screwdriver. “Is there something you want?”

  “No.” Except to hold you and kiss you and carry you back to my cabin and make sweet, love to you all night long.

  Clearing his throat, he leaned against the door jamb, crossing one leg over the other. “I saw the light and wondered if everything was okay.” He hooked his thumbs in his pockets and watched her puzzle over the spur.

  “About earlier…” He didn’t know quite what to say, but he wanted to find some common ground with this mysterious beauty. She tossed him a questioning gaze over her shoulder.

  “I can’t believe how much this place has changed. I didn’t mean to insult you. Rocky’s always been into cattle and finding a horse training facility was a big surprise.”

  “All right.” She fumbled with the spur and screwdriver, making small grunting noises as she worked.

  “How long have you been living here?”

  “Two years, I guess.” She glanced behind her before continuing. “How often do you come here?”

  “It’s been a long time, maybe three years or so. My dad and I used to come out here a lot.”

  “Me, too. When I was a kid.”

  Since she hadn’t admitted to being Rocky’s niece, Trevor decided to play dumb about their relationship. “So, did you know Rocky’s wife?”

  Her head snapped around. “Why do you want to know?”

  He raised a shoulder and scraped dirt from beneath his fingernails. “Just wondering.” From lowered lashes he saw that her focus was on the spur again. Wanting so badly to help her, he forced himself to stay rooted at the door. “The place is so much bigger now. She’s probably kicking herself for her…ah…mistake—”

  “Forgetting one’s marital status is not a mistake. No matter how you try to justify it.”

  “Amen.”

  They stared at each other for a few moments before she tossed the spur behind her. “You’re right. It’s late, and I’m getting cold. I’m gonna call it a night.”

  That was his cue. He should move away from the door to let her by. But the little devil inside him refused to budge. “I’ll walk you home.”

  “I know the way.”

  Inwardly sighing, he nodded before straightening.
“I’ll inform Carter he can start mucking out stalls.” He’d wait outside to make sure she got home safely first.

  Ketra turned out the light and closed the door.

  He stood on the other side of the barn. He smiled. “Good night.”

  She ignored him. He enjoyed the view of her jean-clad bottom as she traversed the darkness separating the houses from the barn. As soon as she disappeared inside her cabin, he felt her absence in the hollow place behind his sternum.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Ketra reached her arm toward the blaring alarm clock and uncoiled into a full body stretch. When she opened the drapes, muted sunlight seeped through the gray cloud mass overhead. Her eyes latched on to the warm, almost comforting glow of lights from Trevor’s cabin. A few nights ago, his cabin had been cradled in blackness, a testament to the emptiness and isolation she’d surrounded herself with. She frowned. Had she known when she volunteered to help Rocky and Sadie, a neighbor lady, clean the vacant cabin that the new foreman was going to be so formidable, she would have declined. Or found some scorpions to hide in his closet. Another lost opportunity.

  Judging by the overcast sky, rain would fall before noon. That meant that she had a few hours to move the horses, hay, and equipment to the indoor arena. If she got enough work done today, tomorrow she’d be free to ride for pleasure instead of training. When the hands were around, she never rode away from the ranch alone. But, in the morning they’d all head up the mountain to drive the cattle down for the winter. Cheered by her expectations for the next day, she dressed in warm clothes, donned her dusty, well-used hat, shrugged into a jacket and stepped outside.

  “Good morning.” The sultry voice of her new neighbor flowed over her like warm honey. “No baking this morning?”

  With furrowed forehead and narrowed eyes, she lingered on the porch for him to precede her to the barn. To her chagrin, he waited at the bottom of the stairs. No baking? What is that supposed to mean? Inhaling deeply, she descended the steps, determined to ignore the not unpleasant affect his presence created in her stomach. He fell into step beside her.

  “So, what do you do when the all guys are gone on round-up?”

  “I work. Same as I always do.”

  “So, no goofing off for the little mouse when the cat’s away?”

  She stopped and faced him. Even though that was exactly what she had been planning, she’d be damned if she’d admit it. “I don’t know how things worked where you came from, but here, no one takes advantage. At least I don’t.” She resumed her trek, annoyed that he had guessed her intentions to take a day off.

  “Don’t get all worked up. I’m curious is all.”

  She ignored him.

  Tugging on the brim of his hat, he added, “I just thought you might relax a little, knowing you’d have the place to yourself for a couple of days. No men around to make you nervous.”

  “Don’t you have something better to do than harass me?”

  He grinned that sexy grin that made her toes curl and her abs clench. “I do. But this is more fun.”

  Brooks met them inside. “Hi, Ketra.”

  “Hey, Brooksey. I’m expecting a delivery from the feed store today.” She dismissed Trevor with a quick wave of her hand. “Please have them unload at the indoor arena in its usual place. I’m going to take some hay down too before it starts raining. Will you please start moving the horses down there when they’ve finished their breakfast?”

  “I can move them now,” he said. “I’ll go down and make sure the stalls have shavings.”

  “There’s not enough shavings. They’re supposed to be delivering more today.”

  Trevor watched the exchange, but she ignored him, tidying up the tack room to give her hands something to do. She examined the broken spur. Someone fixed it. Most likely not Brooks, since he lacked the technical skills necessary to do so. She cast a sideways glance at Trevor leaning against the wall, following her every move with silent interest. She held up the spur and opened her mouth. No sound came out. When he raised questioning brows, she snapped her jaw closed and tossed the spur on top of the work bench. Her heart beat a little too fast for comfort.

  Why did he fix my spur? Twice now he’d done something kind for her even though she’d done nothing to deserve it. Her chest ached, and tears pricked the backs of her eyes. She’d learned the hard way that being nice did not bode well for her. Yet, she found herself wanting to do something nice for Trevor.

  She stifled an expletive and cursed her wanton body for betraying her resolve. She would not let her defenses down and succumb to his kindness. She could never endure another painful episode like the one in Oklahoma.

  With a huff meant to renew her determination, she unhooked the keys to the old flatbed truck from the peg on the wall. After loading several items from the tack room onto the bed, she drove to the feed barn and backed inside, close to the hay bales stacked to the ceiling. Grabbing hay hooks from the wall, she climbed up the stair-stepped bales and dragged several down to a level even with the lowered tailgate then scooted them on to the truck bed. Climbing to a higher level, she pushed more down, clamored after them, and pulled them on to the truck. When the bed was half full she had to start stacking, the hardest part since the bales now needed to be lifted, and she could barely manage the weight.

  Struggling with the hundred-pound cubes, she managed to stack the first two. She stopped to catch her breath. Carter and Jaret stood in the doorway, leering. She gritted her teeth, sank the hooks into the third bale, and hefted. It toppled over the side of the truck and broke apart on the floor, garnering snickers from Cater and Jaret.

  “Show’s over,” Trevor commanded. “Three more horses need shoeing before the end of the day.”

  Tipping his hat, Carter moved away from the barn, Jaret at his heels.

  “Want help?”

  “Nope.” She turned her back to him and swung the hooks into another bale. Mustering every bit of her strength, she heaved it on top of the first row. She offered Trevor a smug smile before bending to retrieve another bale. He was gone when she lifted it onto the stack. She stared at the spot where he had been standing, overcome with a pang of loneliness. She closed her eyes for a moment and leaned against the stacked hay. She attributed the unexpected emotion to exhaustion. Tomorrow she’d rest, certain that by the end of the weekend she’d be back to normal.

  Almost an hour later, she had forty bales of hay on the truck. A light drizzle quenched the parched ground as she drove down the incline toward the indoor arena. She allowed the horses another hour to settle in to their new environment before beginning the training exercises.

  She plugged in the amplifiers and speakers and tested the sound equipment and lighting system. The arena had been wired to simulate sights and sounds used in rodeo venues across the country. Flashing lights, loud music, crowd noise, microphones, and a variety of other distractions were potential spooking hazards to animals. She flipped the switches and made periodic adjustments, checking the effects on the stalled horses after each change. Some of the horses exhibited nervousness immediately, but others tolerated the loud noises and bright flashes with aplomb.

  After numerous configurations of stimulants, she was satisfied that she had achieved a level tolerable for all the animals. After lunch, she’d work with individual horses in the arena, desensitizing them to various light and sound triggers.

  Ketra returned to the arena an hour later and led the appaloosa and the big paint mare into the arena, hitching them to two separate posts. Using the stereo remote control, she started music at a low level, letting the horses acclimate to the volume as it increased, then without warning, blasted a second sound, watching both horses’ reactions to the piercing distraction.

  Following several rotations of varying degrees of sound and light blasts, she moved the horses closer together and repeated the exercises. Next, she added horn blowing and sh
rill buzzes from the time clocks, making notes on each horse’s reactions and progress each time she added a sensation. Satisfied that these horses were good candidates for indoor rodeo venues, she returned them to their stalls and selected two more.

  She repeated the sound and light exercises throughout the afternoon, stopping only when the feed store delivery arrived. With Brooks supervising the unloading, she stayed a comfortable distance away until the truck was empty and the receipt signed. When the truck drove away, she returned to the arena and refocused on the horses. After the sun set, she helped Brooks with the nighttime feeding, filling water buckets while he distributed grain and bundles of hay.

  “I’m not going to be training tomorrow, so you can take the day off,” she informed Brooks when they were finished with their chores.

  On their way out, they met Rocky. “How’s things going down here? Getting settled in? Need anything?”

  “Brooksey did a nice job making the horses comfortable.” Ketra clapped a hand on Brooks’s shoulder. “All of the equipment seems to be working. We got a good start today.”

  Brooks beamed at the praise and handed Rocky the receipt from the feed store.

  “Glad to hear it.” Rocky pocketed the receipt. “Kettie, come on up to the house for dinner. We need to go over some things for the next couple of days. The gang’s gone into town tonight for the Route 66 festivities. No one’s around, so you’ll be okay walking up after dark.”

  “Okay. I’ll change and be up in a few minutes. Need help with dinner?”

  “No. Sadie came over today and put a roast in the oven while she cleaned. I’ll throw together a salad and be done.”

  Sadie Russell, a neighbor whose youngest child had gone away to college, was an empty-nester needing something to do with her free time. Rocky was more than willing to accept her offer because he hated doing domestic chores. The arrangement had been a blessing for them both; Rocky got a clean house and Sadie got a little extra money for college expenses.