Rancher Dragon

by Terry Bolryder

  Then she stumbled toward the house, breaking into a jog as she fled from him.

  She hadn’t wanted him to see her emotion. He didn’t exactly blame her.

  But he still wasn’t certain why she was so upset when all he’d said was he shouldn’t be the one to help her.

  What was it about him she needed?

  Deep down, he could feel something unfamiliar taking root. A soft, warm feeling. Pride, he supposed, that someone like her would so instantly trust him.

  Want him, even if only for a favor.

  “Wait!” he called out, jogging to catch up to her as she paused and turned around. Her eyes were wide, confused.

  “Yes?” She blinked, clearly still trying to hide her emotion from him.

  “Why are you upset? Look, someone else at the ranch could help if you need somethin’.”

  She tried to smile, but it only made her look more worried. “That’s all right. I’ll take care of myself.”

  So she only wanted to ask him? Beck couldn’t help being flattered. He felt his neck heat and hoped it didn’t show with a blush.

  “If you’re in trouble—”

  “It’s fine,” she said tightly, folding her arms in a protective posture as if to keep herself from him as much as possible. “Seriously. You were the only person I would ask, and—”

  “What is it?” Beck asked sharply, taking another step forward. Damn, she was small compared to him. Small, beautiful, curvy…

  “I’m not asking now,” she said. “I couldn’t possibly. I respect that you don’t want to, and—”

  “It ain’t that I don’t want to, lady. It’s just—”

  “I get it,” she said faintly. “You should go, shouldn’t you? They’ll be expecting you down at the ranch.”

  Beck cursed under his breath. He’d ruined everything well and good. If this lady needed help and now wasn’t going to get it because of Beck’s stubbornness, he wouldn’t forgive himself.

  He might be a monster, but he wasn’t someone who could turn away from a damsel in distress.

  Hell, he kind of liked the idea.

  “Just tell me what you need,” he said sharply.

  But she just shook her head, giving him a warmer smile that nonetheless still showed the stress around her beautiful blue eyes. “I swear I’ll be fine. Probably.” She flinched. “Anyway, I need to be going. Good-bye, Beck. Best of luck to you.”

  And then she stepped inside, and the door swung shut.

  “Well, shit,” Beck said, turning around to look at her land and the long, dusty drive that led up to her place where his truck was parked.

  He’d move it out of sight so she thought he was gone.

  But the lady was in trouble. That much was certain.

  And Beck planned to stay around until he found out what was putting that fear in her gorgeous eyes.

  It had nothing to do with being close to the lady or the way his dragon kept practically purring whenever she was close.

  No, he was a monster, and he wouldn’t forget it.

  He got in his truck and drove it around the back of the property, parking behind a line of thick trees where she wouldn’t see him.

  Then he grabbed his camping supplies out of the back of his truck and walked over to a grassy area on the border between her land and Dragonclaw Ranch.

  As he set up his camp, he still felt slightly guilty for putting her in the proximity of a monster.

  But if she really was in danger, perhaps a monster could be exactly the man for the job.

  5

  That night, as she sat at a campfire with Lasso, watching the flames dance, Sierra allowed herself some time to mope.

  It might be the last night it’d be safe to sit out by her fire pit.

  Ross tended to leave her alone for a few days every time he made a threat. Then again, he’d never had that crazy look in his eyes before.

  She wasn’t sure what she was going to do now. How she would handle protecting her property.

  She supposed Beck was right. She could ask another of the men at the ranch. However, she could never bother Harrison or Marian, and she didn’t trust anyone she hadn’t met.

  Plus, the whole situation was embarrassing. No one else should have to deal with her problems.

  She wished she hadn’t even thought of asking Beck for help.

  Then it wouldn’t have hurt so much when he prematurely rejected her.

  Sierra lifted her chin, watching the embers rise on the night air, sparking like tiny pieces of flame. She was Texas stock. She wouldn’t let Ross scare her.

  She’d find a way to fight. Somehow.

  “I’ll never marry that piece of trash,” she muttered. “That son of a bee sting. That shitake mushroom!”

  But then she was distracted by movement in the darkness down by the end of her drive. Dust was moving in a cloud, indicating a vehicle was coming. The ground rumbled, and she could hear the engine of a truck.

  Please be Beck, she thought.

  But as the dust cleared, the overhead lights around her drive shone on a beat-up pickup coming down the road. The back was full of men who were yelling and hollering.

  As they got closer, she saw their rough clothing. Their bandanas. Their disheveled, dirty appearance.

  Copperheads.

  A dirty, disgraceful gang from a nearby ranch that made their living mostly harassing peaceful neighbors and stealing cattle and other such things.

  But they’d left her alone before due to her association with Ross. For better or worse, he’d told everyone in town that she belonged to him.

  And Ross’s father ran the whole town. There was no one that didn’t answer to him in some way.

  So it made sense that he scared away even the Copperheads.

  Not anymore, though, apparently.

  Heck in a handbasket, maybe Ross had sent them.

  Sierra’s fears were confirmed when one of the Copperheads, a younger man with stubble and wild hair pulled back by a bandana, hopped out of the back of the truck and opened the bed so the others could pile out.

  He grinned at her with crooked yellow teeth. “Gotta make a living somehow, right, lady?”

  She just sat there frozen as the men made a semicircle and approached. Their lips were pulled back, baring rictus grins. Excitement and sadism radiated off them in the darkness. Or perhaps that was just the firelight casting an evil glow.

  Lasso barked, running forward, but she snapped her fingers, and he instantly came back to her side where she pointed for him to sit.

  She stood, putting herself in front of him. The last thing she’d let happen was someone hurting her dog.

  “Remember what Ross said,” the Copperhead in the lead said to the others. “We ain’t gonna hurt her much. Just scare her.”

  “I want to see the fear on her face,” one of the other Copperheads said, licking his lips. “She’s so perty.”

  “Make her run,” another snarled. “Then we can chase her.”

  Another made a mock wolf howl, and a few others joined, making chills run up Sierra’s back.

  The lead Copperhead came forward, and she stayed there facing him stubbornly. She knew even if she ran, there would be no way to keep him out.

  If they were just there to scare her, then well, she’d show them she couldn’t be scared.

  The Copperhead came close to her until she was forced to look up into his face to meet his eyes.

  He reached down, tilting her chin up. She jerked her head away, but he caught her chin again, this time forcing her to look at him.

  Her heart was hammering, her body rigid with fear. But she faced him, trying to fight her own terror response.

  “Come on,” the guy said. “You don’t even look scared yet.”

  “Scared of what?” a deep, growly voice called out.

  Sierra jolted at the familiar voice coming from the other side of her yard. She looked up to see Beck walking in from her back tree line, his huge figure silhouetted by the moonlight.<
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  He was gorgeous even from here.

  “You let the lady go,” he said, walking forward.

  “Dragonclaw,” one of the Copperheads muttered.

  The man holding Sierra’s chin just shook his head.

  “Get him,” he mumbled.

  “Beck, run!” Sierra yelled as the man next to her moved behind her, wrapped his arms around her, and picked her up, putting a hand over her mouth to stifle any response.

  Sierra looked desperately at Beck, trying to warn him since there was no way even a huge man like him could take this many men.

  There had to be at least ten Copperheads, and they were all muscled and rangy and raring to fight.

  Beck cracked his knuckles, striding toward them, his eyes locked on Sierra and the man holding her. “This is your trouble? A couple of Copperheads?” His grin was feral. “Not a problem, sweetheart.”

  She kinda liked him calling her sweetheart even though she knew it wasn’t personal. But that wasn’t what she should be focusing on, she realized, as she watched Beck reach the group of Copperheads that had left the leader to walk to the middle of the lawn to confront him.

  Moonlight streamed over the scene as Beck folded his arms and faced the men forming a circle around him. He didn’t look scared for one moment.

  Sierra wondered what he knew that she didn’t.

  “It is Beck,” one of them called to the man holding her. Though he was trying to hide it, fear was plain in his voice.

  “She was supposed to be alone,” another Copperhead yelled out.

  “She ain’t,” Beck said. And with that, he lunged forward, hitting the forwardmost one with his fist.

  A loud crack rent the night air as the man he’d struck flew backward, rolling onto the dirt while the mass of bodies surrounding Beck flew into motion. Sierra tried to struggle against the man holding her to try to help Beck, to do anything, but it was no use. All she could do was watch.

  The two guys closest to Beck’s front lunged at the same time, and she watched as he grabbed both by the front of their shirts. She could swear she heard him laugh, a low, half-cocked sound, but there wasn’t time to ruminate as he tossed those two out of the way as the rest of the gang attacked in unison.

  The next Copperhead threw a punch, and Beck stepped to the side easily as it barely missed. He followed up with a punch to the man’s gut that was so swift Sierra couldn’t even see it happen. She only heard a grunt and the sound of the wind being knocked out of someone.

  Beck wasn’t watching, though, as another leaped from behind, wrapping his arms around Beck’s neck. But Beck seemed entirely unbothered as he just threw his fist over his shoulder, right into the man’s face, sending him falling back onto his face on the ground.

  “Keep ‘em coming. I can do this all day,” Beck said with a grin. A wild fist from his left caught Beck hard in the shoulder, but he didn’t even seem to notice it as he whirled around, his huge fist slamming into the dude’s chest with such an impact Sierra could feel it in her bones.

  “Don’t just stand there. Fucking do something,” the man holding Sierra shouted, his grip loosening around her for a minute while he spoke. In response, three of the men still standing decided to jump all at one time, surrounding Beck from the front and sides.

  The grin on Beck’s face was calm but a little more intense than it had been at the start. Her campfire, which had been burning, popped and crackled just as she heard the crack of someone’s jaw as Beck’s fist caught it.

  She never thought Ross would possibly go this far. To send people to intimidate her… or worse.

  But even more confusing was why Beck was here in the first place. How had he just appeared out of the trees?

  And why was he so good at fighting?

  One eager Copperhead caught Beck by the arm, trying to pull it back. Instead, Beck just yanked forward, and there was a high-pitched yelp as the man flew sideways so far he slammed into the side of the Copperheads’ truck, making a dent.

  Whatever it was the men from Dragonclaw Ranch were made of, it was something much harder, much stronger than anything she’d ever seen before.

  Around the ground, there were several limping men, scattered in a haphazard circle in front of and behind Beck. Those that hadn’t been laid out in one punch like the first were getting up and throwing themselves at Beck again, eyes wild, canines flashing in the light of the campfire.

  Beck just righted his Stetson and looked over at her. Their eyes met for a moment over the dwindling flames, and she felt a rush of something cool and warm at the same time, even as the calloused hand that had her arm trapped tightened.

  Then Beck looked up at the man behind her, and his expression turned cold. Like rock, indomitable and stubborn, with a fury in his eyes that made Sierra really wonder what kind of life had shaped such a uniquely terrifying person.

  Beck, who’d seemed amused by the fight a moment ago, strode toward them with quick, direct movement. A Copperhead attacked him from the side, and Beck didn’t even look over as his fist moved of its own accord, blasting through the guy’s cheek and sending him twisting in an almost comical spiral before collapsing onto the ground.

  She’d almost be more scared of Beck moving toward them like a rolling boulder than the guy holding her back if she didn’t feel that utter calmness soothe her insides at the same time, making her feel somehow safe in spite of the glinting rage that sparked in Beck’s gaze as he fought off another Copperhead on his way toward them.

  The man behind her audibly gulped and immediately let her go, moving to the side. She turned to see him raising his hands, eyes wide, but Beck just glowered at him.

  “I don’t go easy on anyone that lays their hands on a woman.” Beck cracked his knuckles as his fist cocked back. “Especially when she’s under my protection.”

  “Screw you, Beck,” the man spat with a nasty frown that was interrupted by a hit that sounded like a two-ton trailer crashing into a concrete wall.

  The man careened backward, and Sierra wondered if her eyes were working right or if it was just the adrenaline and the low light of the campfire making her think that someone could possibly fly twenty feet in the air before hitting the hard ground.

  There was a moment as Beck looked her over, anger in his face calming as he seemed satisfied that she wasn’t hurt or injured. Just the nearness of his presence made the hairs on Sierra’s arms stand on end, and she was about to try to say something when a shadow approached from the darkness behind Beck, and she could see a man raising something high over his head.

  “Beck!” she yelled, but Beck had already turned around, standing in front of her like a raging, overprotective brick wall that seemed intent on removing himself from her life and jumping back in to protect her when she least expected it.

  A Copperhead with an ax in his hands came into view, and the ax swung down toward Beck with a whoosh. He raised a hand and caught the handle of the ax, making a heavy thunk sound as it stopped midway in its arc.

  Beck just yanked the ax out of the young man’s hands with a grunt, then snapped the ax in half by crushing the handle in his hand like it was a couple of walnuts. The backstabbing Copperhead had only a moment to regret his decision as Beck grabbed the man by the neck and headbutted him so hard she saw blood fly from his nose in an arc as he fell backward.

  It was harsh, fierce, and unforgiving. And like the wild Texas land that surrounded them on all sides, Beck gave no quarter.

  “Only one left? Disappointing,” Beck growled.

  To her surprise, one last man charged, and she noted that the guy’s eye was already swollen, his cheek bruised as he came back for more.

  Beck just snatched him as well and headbutted the second just as hard as the last, holding up his limp body with one hand before dropping him into the dirt.

  “Make it two.”

  Beck’s outline as he stood in front of the fire was surrounded by a pale-red halo as though he were the very angel of death.

 
And he’d placed himself squarely between her and the men that were coming for her land and her future.

  Then he looked over his shoulder, tipped his Stetson, and picked up the two unconscious bodies in front of them like they were sacks of oranges, not bodies, and started piling them in the back of the truck.

  Sierra let out a long, harsh breath. Her nerves were still going haywire, her brain still trying to put together everything that had happened in all of a few minutes.

  In no time at all, Beck had taken all of the men and deposited them in the truck. The most conscious one, who was still barely able to see through his one good eye, he set in the driver’s seat and slammed the door on him, making the truck shake back and forth.

  “Deliver these sorry asses to your home or to Ross. I don’t fucking care.” He leaned into the truck as she watched, and the man in the driver’s seat looked about ready to pass out again in sheer terror. “The message is the same. Nobody touches what’s under Beck’s protection.”

  He let out a feral growl she felt down to her toes even from the thirty or so feet she stood away. Then he slapped the hood, and the horrified Copperhead pulled away, leaving only a trail of dust and several outlines in the dirt where Beck had laid out ten men like it was as simple as eating pie.

  Sierra wrapped her arms around herself as Beck turned to look at her. His face was shaded by his hat, shrouded in the semidarkness away from her. But she could still make out his granite eyes, heated and intense as they watched her.

  Again, the thrill of anticipation and an unexplainable warmth spread over her skin, hotter than the fire, hotter than even the afternoon Texas sun.

  What should she say?

  To her shock, Beck just turned and made his way back toward the trees from which he’d emerged only minutes ago as if it were a perfectly normal thing to do.

  Her heart fell, and Sierra reached an arm toward him as he began to disappear into the blackness.

  “Wait, Beck, don’t go!”

  6

  Sierra stared nervously at Beck, who was standing still as a statue, his massive back to her. She wondered if he had heard her. Wondered if he was going to come inside.