He smiled at that and concentrated on the woman who was going to snatch his heart and keep it when he returned to Texas. Now sandwiched in the front of the cattle trailer, Bren, down on all fours, held a mare's head and glanced at Rafe while he tightened his hold on the mare's hindquarters.
When they had unloaded the horses, the animals were slick with nervous sweat, tails thrashing. Most had suffered abrasions but were capable of walking out on their own with assistance, except for one.
They'd found her down in the front, with both front legs broken. The old girl had been trying, without success to right herself. Exhausted, she lay on her side, with her head against the metal wall of the trailer, her nostrils flaring.
Since the horse was too heavy and awkwardly placed, they came to the conclusion it was best to deal with the situation inside the trailer. There was no need to make it an even bigger spectacle in front of Bren's boys and the volunteers who were currently, with the help of Daniel Fallon and Paddy Ryan, tethering the horses together.
Rafe smiled to himself. Tom had raised some great boys with Bren. Straight out of a dead sleep, they had dressed, saddled Grace's horses, and come willingly to help lead the horses now in Grace's care. Damn if they weren't crowding his heart, too.
"Hold her steady." Bren's voice cracked, and she turned her head, wiping her cheek on the sleeve of her leather jacket. "Oh my God—I might have caused this, running in front of the rig!"
Rafe's gut clenched. Her pain, somehow, had become his. No other woman had that kind of effect on him. And damned if this one wasn't burrowing into his heart. And the hell of it was, he wasn't doing much to stop it. Tonight, he'd even encouraged it. Good thing she had a jealous streak, otherwise he'd have taken her on the shag carpet and to hell with being a gentleman.
"You didn't, darlin'." No way was he telling Bren the truth. Wes's men had given him up. The mare had slipped when they'd loaded her in, her legs ending outside the slats of the truck. Wes refused to unload it. He'd ordered them to break her legs and shove them back in.
Jeremy knelt down next to Bren. "You know this is only going to calm her down."
Bren nodded. She caressed the mare's face. "Easy, girl. Relax." She continued to stroke the mare, whose wide, frightened eyes were intent on Bren's face.
Jeremy plunged the needle in. "She'll start to relax in a few minutes." He massaged the puncture spot with his fingers and angled his head toward Bren. "I don't have enough for a full dose. I used it tonight on the last call." He frowned. "I can run back to the clinic and do this the right way. It will take me about forty minutes round-trip."
Bren shook her head. "That's too long."
Jeremy scrubbed his face hard. "Damn it. I'm kicking myself." He pushed up and rubbed his back. "Watch her. I'll find Bendix. She should be fine until I get back."
Rafe clenched his teeth. Had he known the fate of the mare before Wes's hasty departure, he'd have given him a good Bible lesson—an eye for an eye. Seemed only right that son of a bitch Wes should suffer the same consequences.
The mare's muscles relaxed, and Rafe, his long legs uncomfortably bent, stooped inside the trailer. He moved to Bren and touched the slender nape of her neck. "How you doing, champ?"
She lifted her head toward him. The battery-powered work light Jeremy had erected in the corner of the trailer lit up her pretty face, wet from tears. "He's a bastard."
He kneaded her neck. "I know. I've come across some mean sons of bitches. But Connelly's a rare breed."
Bren sniffed. "I want to put a bullet in his head." She frowned. "That's what it's come to, Rafe."
"Think smarter, Bren. We'll get him. You got what you want. Sheriff didn't miss his threat toward you. No one did." He pulled her head up against his and whispered, "The thing of it is, I wasn't thinking too clearly when I agreed to your plan. Hell, half the time, when I'm with you, I'm not thinking clearly."
Bren pulled away, her cheeks flushed with anger. "I didn't ask you to be a part of it. Remember?" She shook her head. "The problem with you, Rafe Langston, is you've stuck your nose in something that doesn't concern you at all." Her expression turned thoughtful before her eyes flashed. "Why are you here?" She sat back on her haunches and stared at him. "I don't understand. Why this town? My farm? My fight? It's not yours, you know, and I don't need your take or your cold feet distracting me. I'm going through with it." She gave him her back.
"Bren—"
She swung back. A set of stubborn brown eyes locked onto his. "In or out. Decide, cowboy."
Whoever said only opposites attract didn't know diddly. "You're a royal pain in the ass, Red." His gaze hardened. "Problem is, we're too much alike. I'm not walking away from this thing. Not with you in the middle." He tugged on a loose strand of her hair. "You have the damnedest color hair. I should have known to keep my distance from you."
The frown lines around her pouty mouth lessened. He was sorely tempted to steal a kiss and see her reaction. The thought made his cock swell, and he cursed this redhead who had him panting after something, or rather someone, he knew damn well wasn't his for the taking.
The door of the trailer swung back, and Jeremy and Bendix crested the top deck.
"How we doing?" Jeremy asked.
"She hasn't moved," Bren said.
"Good." Jeremy slid down the ramp and checked the mare's heartbeat. "She should be good. Let's get this over with."
Bendix followed and unholstered his gun. "Get back." He eyed Bren. "That includes you."
Bren adjusted herself but refused to move away. "You're a marksman. I'm staying put."
Bendix rolled his eyes, and then nodded over her head to Rafe, his point understood. Bendix leveled his gun at the mare's head. The audible click, Rafe's signal, he pulled Bren into his arms and yanked her against him. She clung to him. Her body stiffened when the single bullet exploded. The sound, more like a cannon, reverberated off the metal walls of the trailer.
Rafe held her tight. He was kidding himself if he wasn't deriving his own kind of comfort from this wisp of a woman in his arms. Tough cowboy or not, he recognized that pinch in the back of his eyes.
She was wrong. This was very much his business. She was his business, and it didn't please him in the least. Becoming emotionally attached to her and her boys had never been a consideration. And that weighed heavily, because this family had seen their share of sadness. Adding to it tore him apart. But leaving this one to her own devices could get her killed. He would find a way to walk away from her when this was over. He had to walk away. But death wasn't going to swallow her up. That he damn well couldn't live with.
Chapter Sixteen
Early morning wisps of fog floated above the cornfields. The sun, a soft, golden glow, emerging in the east above Bear Pond Mountain, reminded Bren she hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours.
Trading her skirt and the thin leather jacket for a pair of jeans and her bulky barn coat her father brought from the house, she was reasonably warm considering the temperature. Snuggling into the quilting of her coat, sitting in the saddle, she relaxed against the gentle sway of her horse Smiley.
She patted his side. This thing with her and Wes had started twenty-three years ago with this horse—her horse. He'd been slated for the same fate as the horses last night. Now in his twilight years, he'd become more than just a horse. He'd been the catalyst for Daniel and Dee Fallon to establish Grace.
Bren leaned forward and nuzzled the side of his head. "I love you, old boy." He pressed his head to hers and blew through his nose, his quiet, contented way of replying.
The volunteers continued to drive the horses across Connelly land. Bren hadn't been sure which way Robert would side. She guessed neither was Wes until Robert's icy departure had left him to wonder where exactly he'd be spending the weekend.
After what she'd been through with the mare, she was half-tempted to steal Kevin's gun and shoot Wes and put herself out of her misery. Now, hours later, she struggled to keep her eyes open in what Finn had
decided, after conferring with Rafe, was his very first cattle drive. Not that they were driving one single head of cattle. With Aiden and Paddy in the lead, they were a ragtag group of riders and tethered horses, exhausted and beat to the ground as they made their way toward Grace and its pastures.
The creak of the worn saddle and Finn's sweet voice quizzing Rafe about his life in Texas lulled Bren. The two rode next to her, Rafe on Bart, a tall black gelding with Finn sitting in front, his small body slumped against Rafe's chest, his soft, white neck craning up to see Rafe's face when he answered the myriad questions Finn fired up at him.
The fence separating Sweet Creek and Grace emerged from the fog looking better than any Emerald City Bren had ever seen. She ignored the gritty feel to her eyes. With twenty-two new additions to Grace, it would be hours before she could consider a catnap. Wes's arrest was only the beginning. If she wanted him to be prosecuted, she needed to make damn sure they had a solid case. More photos would be needed and a formal assessment of the horses' conditions documented before her team reached out to other rescues in the area that would be able to help. As much as she'd like to keep them all, the burden of having a total of thirty-four horses was too great for their rescue.
Bren glanced over at Rafe, tall and rugged—every bit the cowboy. "Is he asleep?"
Rafe angled his head to the side to see Finn's face. He nodded. "His eyes are closed."
"He's a chatterbox."
Rafe bent down to look at Finn again and smiled. "He's great. So if you're apologizing—don't."
"Nope. I think he's great, too."
"Something bothering you?" His dark brows furrowed over a pair of sharp green eyes.
He was getting too good at figuring her out, and she was lousy at hiding her feelings. They always came out in her expressions. "He likes you, too."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"I don't want him getting too attached."
She had a sinking feeling this cowboy wouldn't remain in Clear Spring forever. And the really funny thing was it didn't matter who bought the other half of Grace if he did leave. She was more concerned about his departure from her boys' life—and hers.
Bren slowed her horse. "Whoa." They came up on the fence, and Aiden and Paddy hopped off their horses. With wire cutters, they began snipping at the wire and pulling it from the ground in places where it dug into the earth.
Rafe pulled up closer, his expression less strained. No doubt relieved she hadn't pushed the issue. He nodded toward her father-in-law. "So what's his story?"
"Paddy?"
"He's Tom's father, right?"
Bren's shoulders slumped. With all that had been going on in her life, she'd had little time to check on him. A pang of guilt surfaced. Again, Bren wrapped up in her own struggles. Yet when she had called him at three in the morning, there had never been any question that he would come.
"He took Tom's death hard. He was his only son."
"No other children?"
Remembering the story of how Tom came into the world, Bren shook her head sadly. "No. Tom was his only child."
"His. You make it sound like the man bore his son himself."
Bren gave him a sideways glance. "Now that is a ridiculous statement."
He laughed. "Just trying to understand all the players is all."
"Is all, huh?" She raised a curious brow. "Patrick and Pamela Ryan had one son. There were no more children because Pamela Ryan died in childbirth. Tom was all he had. He loved him, raised him, and mourned his son's passing. And like me, he'll never get over what happened to Tom."
Rafe's curious green eyes hardened, and for a moment, something... anger? The rough planes of his unshaven face tightened before he quickly turned away, burning a gaze into Paddy's back as her father-in-law, with the help of Aiden, cleared a path for them to enter.
The group moved forward, and Bren nudged Smiley, her companion still rooted behind her. She reined Smiley in and turned him about, positioning herself in front of Rafe. "Hey, cowboy." She lifted her face to him. His expression was more relaxed, his eyes fixed on nothing in particular. She angled Smiley up so that she was next to Bart and squeezed Rafe's arm. "Hey, you okay?"
His nostrils flared when he took a deep breath. He turned and gave her a quick smile. "Just fine, darlin'. Nothing a little sleep won't cure." He nodded for her to go on.
Bren cleared the fence, and the tension in her shoulders subsided at the soft thud of hooves coming up behind her. Aiden and Paddy's horses were tied off on either side of the fence. The two stood back, prepared to mend it once Rafe cleared the opening.
By noon every horse had been checked by Jeremy. With limited space, the ones healthy enough were released to roam the pasture. Those under Jeremy's care were placed in stalls. Charts listing their condition and antibiotic schedule were attached to the stall doors, and by the end of the weekend, after half had been placed at nearby rescues, they'd be down to more manageable numbers.
Paddy slid up next to her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek while she tended to a bay, administering eye drops. "You did good, Missy." She smiled at the name. Only Paddy called her that—had called her that since she was a wild thing, of maybe five or six, running the pastures with Tom. The Fallons and Ryans had become good friends over the years, brought together fighting the same enemy they'd fought tonight—Wes.
Paddy's brown eyes, cloudy from age, brightened. He placed his John Deere baseball cap the boys had given him for Christmas over his silver crew cut. Unlike her father, he'd managed to keep most of his hair. "It's been awhile since I've been useful."
Bren gave him a tight hug. "Not true, old man. You've always been there for me and the boys."
He pulled away, grabbed his hanky from his pocket, and blew his nose, wiping his eyes in the process. "And how are the boys doing?" He nodded through the barn doors.
Rafe stood with Finn riding piggyback while Aiden tried to entice Roscoe to sniff out a stuffed animal they were going to hide for him to track. As far as bloodhounds went, Roscoe had the classic look. Maybe it was those sad, old eyes that got him more treats then he deserved. He certainly didn't deserve a treat at the moment, considering he was rolling on his back and ignoring Aiden's commands. Perhaps there was a reason the dog was a rescue.
Bren snickered. "Rafe's a fine judge of champion bloodhounds."
Paddy laughed. "Where'd you get him?"
"Washington County pound."
He laughed again. "No, the man, not the dog."
"Texas. Wants to raise dairy cows." Bren straightened. "One Holstein is all we need. Don't know how I feel about a herd."
"Daniel filled me in about how he came to own his house."
Bren shrugged. "We're adjusting."
Paddy nodded toward the threesome. "They like him."
Her boys missed their father. Having Rafe around filled the void. "Too much, I'm afraid."
Roscoe grabbed the stuffed animal. Aiden gave chase, hollering to bring it back. Rafe's long, lanky frame shook from laughter while Finn's arms tightened around his neck, hugging him.
"Don't let it worry you." Paddy grabbed her hand, tugging her forward. "Come on. Walk me out." They cleared the barn doors, and Rafe turned. A wide grin split his handsome face and then it faded.
Paddy stopped. "I don't think he likes me much."
"Rafe?"
Paddy scratched his head. "I tried to talk to him earlier. Tell him I appreciate all he's done."
"We're all tired. I wouldn't take it personally."
"Maybe." Paddy pulled on his lower lip. "There's a look about him."
"Funny. Dad said the same thing."
Paddy's eyes narrowed. "You said he's from Texas. Whereabouts?"
"Near Dallas, he said. The town starts with a W." She cocked her head.
"Why?"
Paddy shrugged. "No reason, except he is spending a lot of time with my grandsons—just curious."
Paddy kissed Bren on her cheek. "I'm taking this sixty-nine-year-old body
home and taking a nap." He waved toward the threesome. "See y'all."
Finn slid down Rafe's back and ran toward them, hugging his grandfather. "You leaving, Paddy."
He tousled his blond head. "I'm tuckered out, bud."
Finn smiled up. "When will you be back?"
Paddy frowned at Bren.
Seeing Bren and the boys, she knew, only reminded Paddy what he didn't have—not what he still had. His expression merely confirmed that he, too, wrestled with the past, knowing full well he was letting the present pass by without a fight.
"Tell you what, Finn. How about we all get together next Saturday for dinner at my place? I'll make my homemade French fries you like so much with roast beef and gravy."
Finn pulled away, a smile tugging the corners of his mouth. "And your chocolate cake?"
Paddy glanced at Bren and grinned. "And my chocolate cake."
"Sweet," said Aiden as he ran up to the group, with Rafe's even gait closing in behind him. "Rafe invited, too?"
Bren stiffened. Aiden rarely thought of anyone but himself. Call it the curse of the teenager.
"Sure." Paddy clamped a hand on Aiden's shoulder. "I've got room for six."
Rafe said nothing as they said their good-byes to Paddy, except to pull Bren aside. "When you're done, I need to talk to you in the barn." He glanced at Paddy and the boys, then back to her. "Alone."
She eyed those fingers tightening on her arm, the strength with which he held her to that spot a little too much command and control. "Your manners suck, Mr. Langston," she whispered through clenched teeth and pulled her arm from his grip. "We'll talk, once I get the boys settled."
He strode away scowling and mumbling.
What the hell was his problem? They were all tired. If that was his complaint, he needed to mind his own business and go home.
Bren escorted her sons inside the house. "Head to the kitchen. Granddaddy's got your breakfast." Her stomach growled when they neared the open doorway of the kitchen. Her father, who had taken over the duties as cook, had come in before everyone else to make breakfast. As much as she wanted to sit down with a cup of hot tea and devour the bacon-and-egg sandwich resting on her plate, she pressed into her lower stomach to stop the gurgling. "Save some for me and Rafe."
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