Catching Ember (Buckle Up Series Book 1)

by Beverly Preston

  She chuckled as the gray horse lipped the open palm of her hand, searching for treats. “I can tell…he’s just awful.”

  “He’s not meant for cutting and working the herd, but he’s got a lot of cow sense. He seems to have taken a liking to you.” A perplexed frown corrugated his forehead. “Let’s hope he doesn’t throw you.”

  Ember’s eyes broadened taking in the height of the horse.

  “I’ll take my chances.” She lowered her face getting close to the animal. “You won’t throw me. Will you?”

  After teaching her the groundwork of how to saddle and mount the horse, Mr. Montgomery rattled off basic instructions on how to ride; position yourself for balance, hold the reins in your left hand, sit up straight and let most of your weight ride on your seat’s bone.

  Early morning sun beat down on her shoulders, penetrating her lightweight denim shirt, as they rode out to a remote section of the ranch.

  “Got any advice for me?”

  “Keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. That’s what my daddy told me. I suppose that’s the best piece of advice I got for ya.”

  Ember attempted to be silent…for about two minutes.

  “Mr. Montgomery,” teasing coated her tone, “I’m a woman. I’m never going to be able to keep my mouth shut. What else you got for me?”

  A raspy chuckle slipped out from under the gray whiskers. Judging by the twinkle in his eye, Mr. Montgomery loved her reply. He loved it!

  Sitting on her horse, poised in the back of the herd, plains stretched out in every direction as far as the eye could see. With a call of a horn, the cattle began to emerge from the brush to feed. They approached warily, their natural distrust with humans at war with the desire to feed.

  Cowboys lined up on the ledge keeping their distance so not to scare them off. She stuck tight to Mr. Montgomery, watching the men flank the front, back, and side of the herd.

  “What are they doing?” she questioned quietly.

  “We’re gonna do some branding, castrating, and inoculations.”

  Ember’s mouth dropped open, face squirming with mortification. Her head snapped back and forth in adamant rejection. “I…I don’t think I can do that. There’s just no way—”

  “That’s one thing we can both agree on,” he murmured, spitting on the ground, tobacco juice spattering on the dry dirt.

  Ember wanted to inform him of how bad chewing tobacco was for him, but opted to remain quiet, figuring she’d save that battle for a different day.

  Looking out over the harsh, rugged environment, she watched the cowboys work with keen interest.

  “It seems like such a hard, physically demanding job. Why do they love it so much?”

  “The men who work on this ranch enjoy the outdoors. Most prefer country to town.” He paused. The features of his cragged face softened, and his voice filled with admiration. “There ain’t nothing better to a cowboy.”

  “Do they make good money?”

  “Cowboying isn’t about the money, Miss Thompson. They’re here because they take pride in their job and love working with the stock or horses. It’s long hours and dirty work, but it’s a good life. You should know, and always remember, that your father treated the men well, and they’ve been loyal hands.”

  “I imagine their loyalty has to be invaluable.”

  “It is. Men who work on the ranch become part of a family of sorts. If you decide to sell, a dozen or so of the seasoned cowboys would be able to find work on other ranches, but dozens of others would be out of a job completely.”

  The council in his tone came as a warning of sorts, triggering yet another mental note. If she chose not to step up, these men would be forced out of their jobs.

  He continued. “These animals don’t want to be penned, so it’s our job, as well as our horses, to drive them into the corral. You sort of sweep the pasture like you would a floor.”

  Ember scowled. Her knees clamped a bit tighter to the horse as she crossed one arm over the other beneath her chest. “Are you using the sweeping the floor analogy because I’m a woman?”

  “If you’re gonna be this sensitive about being a female—”

  Ember gasped, watching a man haul a large calf to the ground with a loud umfff. “Holy shit. Doesn’t that hurt?”

  “It’s more about timing than brute strength. These boys been doing this for years, some more than a decade or two.”

  “I meant the cow.”

  “No,” he scoffed indignantly. “It doesn’t hurt the calf. We get them through the process as quick as possible so not to stress the cattle out.”

  Ember couldn’t help but notice the men’s wide-eyed reaction to her presence. The weight of their stares penetrated her skin as they approached the pen.

  Mr. Montgomery rattled on, working as much information into as few words possible, patiently answering her twenty-eighth question of the morning, explaining why they castrate the bulls. “Testosterone toughens their flesh that’s one reason we castrate. Without testosterone, the steers flesh marbles which makes for a much more tender cut of meat.”

  His abrupt whistle carried through the thick, humid air, capturing the attention of every hand. Mr. Montgomery crossed his arms at the wrists, resting them on the horn of his saddle.

  “I want you boys to meet Mr. Walker’s daughter, Miss Ember Thompson. You’ll treat her with the same respect you showed him.” His booming voice was direct and firm. “She’s new to ranching, so we’re here to gladly show her the ropes and teach her as much as we can. Hopefully, she’ll decide to stick around and make Walker Ranch home.”

  Cowboys tipped their hats and offered a pleasant, but rushed, howdy ma’am before getting back to the business at hand. An attractive man, wearing a layer of dirt, a black felt hat, and a compelling smile, moseyed toward her and leaned his forearms on the fence.

  “Looks like you’ve already got Storm’s approval. You’ll surely have mine. I’m Travis.”

  Storm’s ears twitched. The animal swung his rear to the fence making a half circle. The distinct reaction seemed like a strategic move, a habit she suspected was an ingrained response. Ember pulled on the reins attempting to turn him around, but Storm wouldn’t cooperate.

  “Thank you,” she said over her shoulder, giving a tighter squeeze with her thighs tugging on the leather straps several times. The animal remained locked-legged, refusing to respond to her commands. She caught the white of Travis’s smile out of her peripheral vision. “I don’t know why he won’t listen. He’s been good all morning.”

  “Looks like you could use some riding lessons. I’d be happy to help you with that.”

  “That’s kind of you to offer, Travis, but the only person helping her with riding will be me,” Mr. Montgomery interjected, his stern, fatherly tone rattling in his throat.

  Despite Mr. Montgomery’s glare, the young man offered a bit of friendly advice. “Just remember that every time you interact with your horse, you’re teaching it something.”

  The man grasped the top of the fencing flexing his muscles. His eyes passed over her in a long, slow burn, tossing her a wink before getting back to business.

  “Why’d Storm turn his butt to him like that?”

  “Cause he’s got good people sense too,” he murmured, skewering the ground with another direct spit. “If your father saw the way Travis looked at you, he likely would’ve had his pistol to that boy’s head.”

  Ember’s eyes widened to the size of saucers.

  “Na, I’m just teasin’. Sort of. Travis is our best hand. He’s well versed with cattle, and trains all the horses on the ranch, but for some reason Storm never quite took a liking to him.”

  Ember watched the men, who were completely desensitized to the harshness of their chores, brand calf after calf, marking them with a capital W that looked more like a snake than a letter.

  Even though she was merely an innocent bystander, instinct made her want to sneak over and open the gate, setting all the cows free from the
horrible experience they were about to endure. She likened it to going to the dentist with no Novocain, but Mr. Montgomery assured her repeatedly, after every sharp gasp, that the animals weren’t in any pain.

  Watching the calves bounce right back and run off to their mommas eased her guilt.

  A little.

  Thankfully, they left before the castrations started. She didn’t know if it was good timing or if Mr. Montgomery decided not to torture her too much in one setting. She suspected it was the latter, but she was grateful either way.

  The distinct smell of burnt hair lingered with her the entire ride back to the ranch. Sweat trickled down her back, beyond the crack of her ass…the ass that was on fire from riding the stiff saddle. The stifling heat of the day was far more intense than a hot yoga class.

  Holding onto Storm’s mane, she moaned in pain, dismounting the horse. Every muscle from her lower back to her knees, screamed in protest. “As much as I’ve enjoyed this, I don’t think I’ll be able to sit on you for at least three days.”

  “The best thing for you to do is ride again tomorrow.”

  “Not a chance in hell, Mr. Montgomery,” she groaned, reaching her hands to the heavens, stretching her spine.

  “We’ve got a lot to fit in over the next four months.”

  “I get the gist. Burn them with a red-hot poker and chop their balls off.” Ember wobbled, her footing unstable as she brushed the layer of dust from the creases of her clothing.

  “Nothing wrong with a little dirt,” he called out to her, humor dancing in his voice. “It’ll make your eyes bloodshot, and cover you in dust, but it all washes out when you get home.”

  She managed enough energy to lift a hand and wave it in the air.

  Bee had a bowl of beef stew topped with a dollop of mashed potatoes waiting for her when she walked in the door. It didn’t matter that it was nearly a hundred degrees outside, nothing had ever smelled so good as the steamy goodness rising from the dish.

  After washing the dirt out of her hair, and every other nook and crevice, she plugged the drain and sank into a hot bath infused with Epsom salts and lavender oil.

  Her cell phone vibrated on the tile tub surround. She dried off her hands to swipe the screen, finding a text from JC.

  JC – How’s it going cowgirl? lol

  Ember - I don’t think my pelvis will ever be the same.

  JC – Cowboy in the suit? ;)

  Ember – Ha! No. I spent the morning on a horse, but there are definitely some cute cowboys here.

  JC – Maybe all that riding is just a warm up for a hot cowboy. You want to come out with us tomorrow night?

  Ember assumed JC and Reed needed someone to watch Chloe.

  Ember – Need me to babysit?

  JC – No. I’ve already got a sitter. Reed’s partner Sam and his wife, Jenny, are coming with us and they have a sitter lined up, so Chloe is going to have a playdate at their house. There’s a group of us going dancing at The Garage and I thought you might like to come. You need a night out!

  A spark of excitement zipped through her sore limbs. She hadn’t been to a honky tonk in years and the idea of going out and kicking her heels up sounded heavenly.

  Ember – Count me in!

  JC – Great! See you tomorrow at The Garage around 8:00.

  After her bath, Ember slipped into a pair of comfy shorts and a tank top, grabbed her yoga mat and headed for the porch to take in a good sunset. Walking down the hallway, she heard the house phone ring.

  “No. She’s not in,” Bee clipped, her voice a low vibration of caged fury. “Like I told you the first three times you called, it’s hard telling when she’ll be available.”

  Ember caught a grumble of instructions from Mr. Montgomery insisting his wife to give him the phone. She wasn’t trying to eavesdrop but hearing the anger in his voice glued her feet to the hardwood floor.

  “This is Mr. Montgomery. You don’t need to be bothering Miss Thompson with a false welcoming committee. It’s nothing but a calculated, pathetic attempt—” He paused listening to the person on the other end of the line. “You show up on this property and you’ll be greeted by half a dozen shotguns.”

  Ember had heard her fair share of colorful threats in her life, but none so threatening or believable as Mr. Montgomery’s.

  “Whatever you’ve got to say to Miss Thompson can come through that fancy attorney you hired.” Another long pause. “She’s just arrived and hasn’t had time to even consider entertaining your offer. I expect you’ll have an answer in three months and twenty-nine days. Until then you can stop ringing this phone every damn hour.”

  The sound of the phone slamming into the receiver and his tension-filled sigh reverberated all the way through the kitchen and down the hall.

  Eyes wide, Ember slowly rounded the corner, entering the kitchen. “What’s going on? Who was that?”

  Patches of redness blotched the skin of his neck and face. “Nothing for you to worry ‘bout.”

  Bee raised her eyebrows conveying a message to her husband. Ember couldn’t put her finger on the meaning, but the sadness in her eyes was telling.

  “You can’t protect me from what’s to come, Mr. Montgomery. If there’s a problem, I’d prefer to handle it now rather than later.”

  “There’s simply not enough time to get everything out that needs to be said, before you go making a decision about this ranch.”

  “I gave you my word that I’d stay for the four months. I know what’s at stake.”

  His dark eyes tucked beneath his deep furrowed brows. Years of experience and wisdom filled his gaze, shadowing her with a doubtful glance. She knew he was right. The words had slipped from her lips with ease, but in truth it would be impossible for her to understand everything that was at risk.

  “I realize I have to earn your trust, but I’m here. I could’ve just said no and put the ranch up for sale. That should count for something.”

  Their gazes connected, each reading the other’s body language. His tense shoulders bunched up toward his ears and his hands balled into fists resting on the counter. A ring of white encircled his lips pinched together in a firm straight line.

  “I’m not making any promises, but I’m willing to try.” Ember approached him, warily covering his fist with the palm of her hand. “I don’t like sweeping things under the rug. I prefer the dust right on the table for everyone to see. So how ‘bout you tell me what’s going on.”

  His head moved up and down in a slow, methodical nod, contemplating the situation. He took a drink of hot black coffee. “Let’s move into the office.”

  Bee and Ember followed Mr. Montgomery into her father’s office. They sat across the desk as he poured two fingers of whiskey into a clear glass tumbler. He dropped back into the leather chair and took a long draw of the umber-colored liquid courage, before opening a drawer to retrieve a short stack of files.

  “There’s already been four offers made on the ranch.” He unbound the rubber band from each file and tossed them into a stack, one on top of the other, in front of Ember. “They’re quite lucrative.”

  She leaned in, tentatively sliding her chair closer to the desk. A twinge of guilt mixed with excitement and curiosity, layered the palms of her hands in a thin slick of dampness. Taking a deep breath through her nose, she braced herself for the unknown and opened the files.

  Her eyes narrowed, assessing the offers one by one.

  The number of zeros…uncomfortably staggering.

  Overwhelming.

  The racing of her heart pounded in her ears. She fought the urge to squirm under their stares, but her mouth dropped open reading the last offer which was nearly ten percent more than the previous bids.

  The value of the estate far exceeded her wildest ideas, weaving an unsettling path through her consciousness.

  “Whoa. This…these numbers…this is just crazy.” She lifted her eyes from the page, peering over the documents. “We’re talking about hundreds of millions of dollars.
I had no idea.”

  “Well, now you know.”

  Apprehension gathered in her chest, giving it a firm, uncomfortable squeeze. She struggled to take in enough air. In a daze, she moved to her feet and poured a shot of whiskey.

  He crossed one arm over the other, shoving his hands up under his armpits. “The way I see it, you can take the money and turn tail and run or you can do the right thing—”

  Bee cleared her throat, loudly.

  Mr. Montgomery began again. “You can take the money and never look back or you can roll up your sleeves and take pride in owning one of the finest ranches in all of Texas.”

  Pacing aimlessly around the room, she raked her fingers through the roots of her long dark hair. Her hand shook tipping the glass to her lips, taking a gulp of whiskey. The sweet, smoky liquid slipped across her tongue with ease, but turned to a river of fiery heat cascading down her throat.

  Coughing and sputtering, her eyes watered as sweat beaded across the bridge of her nose.

  “Why? I mean, I knew the ranch would be worth a lot, but never in my wildest dreams did I expect this. And that last offer…” Her eyes bulged. “Why is it so much more?”

  “Like I said earlier, this land has oil.” He threw back the remaining whiskey in his glass. “That offer is from NBH Exploration.”

  After a beat, the warmth finally settled in her stomach, but the roughness in her throat lingered. Words escaped her.

  “You’d be the only woman in Texas, hell maybe the country, to own a ranch this size,” he added.

  “If there’s oil on this land, why aren’t we drilling it? I mean you. Why aren’t you drilling it?”

  “Mr. Walker refused to entertain the idea of leasing property for drilling,” he said abruptly, moving to his feet. He strode toward the open door, forcing a calmer tone. “That’s all I’ve got to say about that. You’ve seen the offers. Read them over.”

  Ember’s lashes bounced up and down, blinking repeatedly, surprised by his curtness. “Oh, okay. I guess we’re done then?”

  He turned back, eyes shadowed with dread, offering one further bit of information before disappearing out the door. “They also delivered a pony, a fancy antique pistol, and a might sparkly bracelet that I’m sure set ‘um back a pretty penny, but I sent every bit of it back. I guess, if you’d like to accept their hospitable offers of kindness, you can, but I’ll have no part of it. There’ll be no bribery, enticements, or weakmindedness in my presence.”