by Dahlia West
Sawyer rolled his yes. “Cassidy Conroy is in my bed of her own free will, and she’s promised me she’ll be there when I get back in three days. Preferably, she’ll be naked.”
Austin gaped at him. “That’s so unfair! I go to The Spur all the time! Or at least I used to! I never snagged Cassidy fucking Conroy. What the hell?! I’m so much better looking than you are! Why would she pick you?” he cried.
Sawyer laughed.
“I need to go to The Spur,” Austin muttered. “I need to get off this damn mountain and go to The Spur.”
Sawyer grinned at his older brother. “You’ve been up here so long, the cows are probably looking good.”
Austin glared at him but snorted. “It’s not possible to be that desperate. But I do need to head into town soon. Does Cassidy have any hot-to-trot friends?”
Sawyer actually paused to consider it and frowned. Truth be told, he wasn’t certain Cassidy had any friends at all. “I don’t know,” he said slowly.
Austin sighed. “Well, I’ll find someone. After I shave and use up all the hot water in Wyoming.”
“Yeah, well, do it soon before you and Sampson are competing for the same females.”
Austin took a half-hearted swing at him, and Sawyer shoved him just as playfully.
Just then a shadow moved from the left. Sawyer’s blood ran instantly cold. He sprang at Austin, slamming into him with the full force of his body, knocking the large man sideways and sending him sprawling. Austin had barely enough time to protest with a loud cry when a lithe, sinewy body plowed into Sawyer instead.
The cougar was all fur and hard muscle and screeching loudly. Its solid weight came too fast, too powerfully, and Sawyer was falling. Unable to push the thing away, Sawyer instinctively reached for the sheathed hunting knife on his belt, instead. Sawyer held the knife firm, not loosening his grip even during the impact with the ground. The first set of claws raked across his shoulder before he could get the weapon up, but then he drove the blade home, directly into the cat’s exposed belly.
The second paw caught him across the ribs, wracking his entire torso with pain, but he was determined not to lose his grip on the handle. He twisted the knife as he rolled, feeling the softer flesh give way. Fangs clamped down on the forearm he was using to protect his face, and both cat and man let loose guttural roars, one already a dying proclamation, thankfully.
Sawyer quickly drew out the bloody blade and sliced it across the cougar’s throat even as it was already twitching and spasming underneath him. Blood ran down his arms as he finished the kill, soaking him. The large cat finally stopped moving, and its nearly severed head lolled back. Hands were on Sawyer at that point, grabbing at him, pulling him to his feet. He growled, gritting his teeth against the pain as he felt blood trickle down into his shirt. He looked up to Walker, whose face was ashen, mouth hard, and was hauling him upright.
Walker tore at his shirt, exposing his slashes. They weren’t deep, but they were bleeding. Far from being relieved at the relatively minimal damage, Walker looked furious. “This is what happens when you’re mooning around not paying any fucking attention!” he bellowed. “What the hell are you doing? Everything, everything is at stake right now! And we can not afford to get distracted by pretty women!” He shook Sawyer once more for emphasis, or maybe to assure himself that Sawyer could handle it, that he was all right. “What are you going to do? What are you going to do if we lose it all? Live happily ever after with Cassidy Conroy at the Dusty Rose motel? Or are you going to cram her and her two hundred pairs of high heels into a trailer and try to get back on the rodeo circuit? This…” he said, spreading his arms wide, “this is what matters. Because without this, we can’t have anything else.”
He dragged Sawyer to a nearby boulder and, despite his obvious rage, set him down carefully on the flat stone.
Sawyer dragged air into his lungs as he continued to clutch the handle of the hunting knife. Gabe passed him a canteen, and he drank deeply then washed blood and dirt from his face with the rest. Walker was right. No matter how badly Sawyer wanted to be back at the bunkhouse, his first priority had to be staying alive long enough to get there.
Walker turned his gaze on Court, of all people. “And you!” he snapped. “You were on watch. You were on watch when our brother got attacked.”
Court, normally hot headed, was somber instead. He nodded glumly.
“Get out,” Walker finally said.
Everyone gaped at him.
“Get out?” Court repeated.
“Get out of camp. Go down to the homestead.”
“But—”
“You’re worn out,” Walker insisted. “You’re no goddamn good here like this. You need a break, Court, and if you won’t take one, I’ll make you take one. Go back home and get some sleep.”
Court looked as though he was about to argue the point, when Walker added, “Spend more time with Willow.”
That was an offer not even Court Barlow could refuse. He nodded and turned, presumably to pack up his tent.
Sawyer watched him go, feeling like he’d failed at easing tensions between his brothers. He was only distracted from his thoughts when the sting of a handkerchief made him flinch.
“Your face is okay,” Gabe said with a smirk, holding a damp piece of cloth. “You might still have a chance with her.”
Sawyer flipped him off, thankful his hand didn’t shake and belie his frayed nerves.
“Just saying, hermano. She’s a fresa…and a beauty queen. It matters to a girl like her. You come home with your face sliced up, she ain’t gonna think it’s sexy.”
After washing the blade with the dregs of the canteen and wiping it on his pants, Sawyer sheathed it and hauled himself to his feet.
“We have to move camp,” Walker snarled, already yanking up tent poles from the soil. “Bears will come—there’s too much blood on the ground.”
Sawyer started for his tent, but Austin waved him away.
“I got this,” Austin told him. “You took on that cat for me. Don’t think I’m not grateful.”
Sawyer nodded, too exhausted and in too much pain to argue. He doubted he could tear down camp with one arm right now anyway. Instead, he saddled Cash and, after a struggle, swung up into the saddle and set out to round up the cattle to help move the herd down toward the river, instead. He vowed to take the first shift once they got resettled. And God help any bears who came sniffing around because he was for damn sure missing his princess right about now, and nothing was going to stand in his way from seeing her again as soon as possible.
Chapter Fourteen
‡
CASSIDY HAD BEEN a little nervous about sharing the bunkhouse with Court, but she needn’t have bothered. Court had blown back onto Snake River Ranch surly and unwilling to explain to anyone why he was back so soon. If he ignored the others, he downright didn’t see Cassidy, barely acknowledging her presence. He wasn’t quite the man she remembered.
In truth, this Court Barlow was not the man she’d watched from afar as a lowly freshman in high school, he a junior and already captain of Star Valley’s admittedly small football team. He’d been golden skinned, with a smooth, gorgeous face and a jawline as powerful as his throwing arm. This version, curiously, had a beard that hadn’t been so much as trimmed in days, possibly weeks, and shaggy golden-streaked dark hair that hung in his eyes.
She tried hard not to stare at him, but the Court Barlow she knew was Star Valley’s own equivalent of a Calvin Klein underwear ad in spurs, and she couldn’t reconcile that mental image with the one standing right in front of her. He was reticent, barely spoke at all, to anyone. He got up early, too, disappeared for work, and ate at the family table silently until he’d finished his dinner.
On the first night, Cassidy watched him dump his plate in the sink and head out the side door without so much a word to anyone all evening. When Dakota came into the room, Cassidy dragged her gaze away from Court’s retreating form. “What…?” she began but s
truggled for the words to describe such a fall from grace. “Court,” she concluded simply.
Dakota grimaced. “Willow.”
“That’s…wait…that’s his daughter, right? The little girl?” The Housewives had had plenty to say about that a few months ago when Rowan Archer showed up in town with a girl who looked just like her ex.
“Yeah,” sighed Dakota. “I mean it’s not just her. Court had some problems before he came home. But Rafe, then Willow. He’s just…I don’t know.”
Existing, Cassidy thought but didn’t say out loud. Much the same way she was, perhaps, except she hadn’t gotten to the stage where she was letting herself go.
“He’s just lost right now. Mama says he’ll find his way back,” Dakota assured her. “She says Rafe and Daddy are watching over him and Court’ll be back soon.”
“But why would a little girl turn him into—?”
“Not the girl. Rowan. He wanted Rowan back,” Dakota said quietly.
“Oh. Oh!”
Star Valley had been buzzing with news of the impending nuptials. Rowan Archer was all set to marry a Barlow, which made sense seeing as how she was raising a Barlow child. Trouble was, she was marrying the wrong Barlow. Seth, not Court, not the actual father of her child.
The Housewives had been rabid.
“Yeah. It’s…complicated,” said Dakota before heading out of the kitchen.
Sofia entered, just as her daughter was leaving, carrying an armload of glasses and plates.
Cassidy rolled up her sleeves, second nature now, and worked alongside the woman to wash up.
Sofia sighed as she looked at the leftover food on Court’s plate. “He’ll come back,” she said, almost to herself rather than Cassidy. “He’ll come back to us.”
Cassidy wasn’t sure, didn’t know Court well enough to say. She was separated from her own family—by choice—and the longer she stayed away, the less she ever wanted to set foot on Conroy Cattle land again.
Finishing up, Cassidy laid the dishtowel on the counter to dry and headed outside. Just before she made it out the front door, the silhouettes of two people materialized in the dark just a few feet away. She gasped.
They turned, Austin and Dakota, and gazed at her from their spot at the corner of the wooden porch.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” Cassidy cried, backing out of the doorway.
“No, it’s fine,” Dakota assured her. “We were just talking,” Dakota assured her. “About the ranch.”
“It’ll be a good winter,” Austin declared. “We’re making plans.”
Intrigued, Cassidy asked, “How…how do you know? That it’ll be a good winter?”
He shrugged. “I just do.” He straightened and headed toward the front door, grinning at Cassidy as he passed. Austin looked nothing like Walker, even though they were twins. It seemed to Cassidy that the two men had nothing in common at all. Nothing except maybe Dakota.
“I really was just talking to him,” the woman insisted as she moved out from behind the desk.
“This is so not my business.”
Dakota peered at her then made a quick gesture with her hand. “I’m serious. I want to show you something.”
Curious, Cassidy followed along as they left the porch and headed toward Dakota’s house, the Foreman’s house, next to the Big House. Inside, Cassidy led her to a room at the end of the hall.
“Here,” she said. “This is the spare bedroom, but I’ve kind of taken it over.” Dakota twisted the knob on the door and pushed it open.
Cassidy looked past her and into the room. “Holy crap, Dakota!”
There were stacks of books, printouts, charts, all strewn about the room. Cassidy could see that Dakota had started out, at one point, with some kind of organizational scheme. The books on the shelves were all neatly, smartly arranged. But it must’ve gotten out of control, because now there were teetering stacks on the floor, on the dresser, on the nightstand.
“What is all this?” asked Cassidy, reaching for a tome. It was an animal husbandry guide. Fitting, she thought, surrounded by these men. “These are cows,” she said, waving it toward the girl. “This book is about cows.”
Dakota nodded.
Cassidy frowned. “I thought you bred horses.”
Dakota gestured around the room. “I’ve spent my whole life learning about running a spread as large as the Snake. Feed costs, breeding strategies, grazing rotations, water sources.”
Cassidy gaped at her. “I mostly read Chekhov.”
Dakota wrinkled her nose. “Who?”
“Obscure Russian writer.”
“Is that useful?”
Cassidy shrugged. “Only to me.” She looked around the room. “So you…want to run the Snake?”
Dakota sighed and returned the shrug. “I don’t know. Pfft. Like Walker would ever let anyone else have any control, anyway. But I could,” she said fiercely. “Austin listens to me. He likes my ideas. But Walker’s too busy trying to be the Master of the Universe.”
“Head up his ass, huh?”
Dakota threw up her hands. “I’m surprised it fits, it’s so goddamn big! He’s so stubborn, so pigheaded! If he’d open his eyes and clean out his ears, he’d see that I’m right. He’d beg me to help him!”
Cassidy smiled. “But you’re not interested in Walker.”
Dakota pressed her lips together and looked away.
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much. But…Austin listens to your ideas. He supports you.”
When Dakota looked back, Cassidy raised her eyebrows at her.
Dakota snorted. “You know, I brought you in here to show you up. Show you what I’m capable of doing.”
Undeterred, Cassidy smiled. “Oh, trust me, I know. I’m more than familiar with backstabbing and bitchery. But…I am properly put in my place. You are definitely doing something with your life, Dakota. A lot of somethings. A lot of meaningful somethings.”
Dakota grimaced. “And now I feel like an asshole,” she muttered.
Cassidy laughed. “I promise not to hold a grudge. But will Austin? When he finds out how much you like his brother?”
“I didn’t say that!”
“You didn’t have to.”
“I can’t,” Dakota sighed.
“Hmm.”
“Austin’s not Walker.”
“No. No, he’s not,” Cassidy agreed.
Dakota flopped onto the bed amidst a stack of spreadsheets. “He’s so damn cocky!”
“And you want to smack him. Then kiss that grin right off his face.”
Dakota opened one eye and looked up at her.
Cassidy smiled. “I can relate.”
“My life would be so much easier if I liked Austin.”
Cassidy thought about the way she’d seen Walker look at Dakota. She didn’t think Dakota’s life would be easier. Not at all.
“He doesn’t like me, though,” Dakota argued. “Or…I don’t know. Sometimes I think maybe he does, but then he’ll go a week without even glancing at me!”
“Men are fickle things,” Cassidy mused.
“I’ve tried everything,” Dakota declared.
Cassidy looked at her in surprise. “You asked him? What did he say?”
Dakota ducked her head. “Okay, no. I didn’t ask him.”
“So, what’d you do?”
The girl shrugged. “I’ve asked him to dance at The Spur. He won’t. He never does.”
“Okay,” Cassidy replied, nodding. “That’s a start. What else?”
“Well…” Dakota paused to think about it. “I don’t know.”
Cassidy snorted.
“Meaningful looks across the fertilizer pile?” Dakota offered.
Both girls shrieked with laughter.
“Have you—” Cassidy began but stopped herself.
“What?”
“Nothing. Nothing.”
“No, what,” Dakota insisted.
“Well…” Cassidy took a deep breath and hoped she didn’t piss th
e woman off for the millionth time since she’d come to Snake River. “Have you tried changing your clothes?”
Dakota looked down at herself, dressed in jeans and an old T-shirt. “I shovel shit, Cassidy. For a living.”
“I know, but you don’t dress like that when you go out to The Spur, do you?” Cassidy wracked her brain trying to remember ever seeing Dakota there, but honestly she hadn’t. But they hadn’t been friends then…if that’s what they were now.
“I…I have a nicer T-shirt,” she said with a self-deprecating grin. “My clothes are practical.”
And, Cassidy assumed, any money Dakota earned went right back into her real horses instead of just being a clothes horse, like she was.
“Practical doesn’t whip men into a frenzy, Dakota. Practical doesn’t cut it. Let me see what we’ve got to work with.”
She headed to Dakota’s room, crossed to the closet, and pulled the door open. Looking through it herself, she found T-shirts, more T-shirts, and church dresses. She gave up and turned to the girl, eyeing her thoughtfully.
“What?” asked Dakota.
“I think we found a job for me.” Or at least a distraction. “Come on.”
Dakota raised an eyebrow at her. “We already have work to do.”
“Meh. Walker’s gone. Sawyer’s gone. Austin and Gabe aren’t going to tell anyone, are they? Ask them not to. Come on. We’re going to bring Walker Barlow to his knees. He’ll be begging for your attention. We’ll make him sorry he ever ignored you.”
Dakota scoffed. “That’ll be the day. That man has never so much as apologized to another living soul. And he doesn’t know the meaning of the word humble.”
Cassidy grinned. “He will when I’m done with you. Be ready tomorrow morning.”
Dakota frowned. “Ready for what?”
“You’re taking the day off.”
“I can’t take a day off.”
“Okay,” Cassidy amended. “You’re taking half a day off. And no arguing.”
*
IN THE MORNING, after Dakota finished feeding the horses, Cassidy led the woman out to her Mercedes and gestured to the passenger seat. “Hop in.”
Once inside, Dakota looked around, wide eyed. “This is a nice car,” she declared. “I think this is the nicest car I’ve ever been in.”