EMMETT (The Corbin Brothers Book 3)

by Lexie Ray

  The road forked off in another direction — that was going to be the way to the barracks for the dude ranch. That had been a surprising brain child from Avery of all people, but Chance and Paisley agreed it was a great way to bring in more money and educate people about life on a ranch the way it was supposed to be done. The idea was that if people understood how happy the cattle stayed and how well taken care of they were, they might be more likely to support ranching operations like ours and buy beef from us or others like us. It cost just a little more in stores, but that was because so much more effort went into the care for the herds — unlike other operations that were little more than feed lots. Those operations were loath to invite the public onto their ranches because of the foul conditions the cattle endured to turn such a pretty profit.

  The dude ranch would benefit us. I wasn’t about to rain on the parade that was Avery’s sole major contribution to the ranch. He’d dug his heels in for whole years about working here, so it was good he finally was experiencing some form of ownership and investment in the ranch.

  I just wished I could contribute in the same way, in something highly visible that would finally distinguish me in the Corbin family legacy. I already worked so hard — well, prior to my injury — around the ranch. I was the superior horseman, I knew how to read the herd, and I could run a fence line and fix it better than anyone. I was more meticulous with logs than any of my brothers, neatly and carefully making notations and then helping analyze them. On top of that, I cared for everyone’s horses. But did I get any recognition for that? Did Chance or anyone ever take me aside and tell me just how important all of my hard work was for the survival of the ranch? Nope.

  “Emmett Corbin, I better be hallucinating. I hope that I can rub my eyes and not see you on a horse I expressly forbade you to ride.”

  I’d reached the clinic without realizing it, and Hadley was waiting outside for me, her arms crossed in front of her body. She was not happy. Not even a little amused.

  “I just wanted to see if I could,” I said, defensive. “And look. I can.”

  I hopped back down to the ground with little difficulty and just a few of those odd twinges, giving Sugar a pat on the neck for getting me here in one piece.

  “And what if you’d hurt yourself again?” Hadley demanded, just as unhappy with me off the horse as on it. “That would mean that all the work we did would’ve been in vain.”

  “But I didn’t hurt myself,” I reminded her gently. “I’m just fine.”

  “Ugh, Emmett.” She uncrossed her arms and rubbed her face. “All of you Corbins are just alike. Stubborn as hell and impossible to deal with and deaf to reason.”

  “Problems with Hunter?” I guessed.

  “Don’t even get me started.”

  She waved me inside the clinic and past a couple of walk-in appointments already sitting in the waiting room.

  “It’s not a problem, Hadley,” I said, looking at the old man holding his elbow and the younger man with a padded boot on one of his feet. “If these guys were ahead of me, I can wait.”

  “You’re the one with the early appointment,” she said grimly, opening a door to one of the examination rooms and waiting for me to pass through. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  “Hunter wants to be back out on night patrols, doesn’t he?” I guessed again — right enough to press on the nerve that made Hadley stop glowering and start talking.

  “I don’t understand why, when he had such an episode after Avery got shot,” she said, jerking her thumb at me in a gesture that I was pretty sure meant she wanted me to sit up on the examination table. “I know it’s PTSD, but he really wasn’t well. He wasn’t himself. And now he wants to go out there like everything is fine? Who in this family does Hunter listen to?”

  “Well, you,” I said, unfastening the Velcro that held my brace in place. “And maybe Tucker, after you.”

  “What I say to him doesn’t mean shit,” Hadley said. “Maybe I’ll deploy Tucker and get him to hammer some wisdom into Hunter’s head. He doesn’t need to be out there at night with all those guns and the potential for something to happen.”

  “Is he talking to anyone?” I jerked as Hadley tapped on my knee with a little rubber mallet, testing my reflexes.

  “He barely talks to me about it,” she said, gesturing for me to lie back on the table. “I didn’t think ranching was going to be like this.”

  “This … this is a little different from what ranching usually is,” I allowed as she tested my range of motion. I was no physical therapist, but even I could tell that my knee was much better than the first day, when she’d taken me to her Dallas office for a proper assessment. I’d come a long way, and now I was ready to resume my real life.

  “When is it going to be back to normal?” she asked, opening my file but not really looking at it. She was worried, a rumpling between her eyebrows. I couldn’t really blame her. Things were pretty distressing right now.

  “Normal is kind of a relative term,” I admitted. “Are you asking when the ranch is going to be normal? Because it never really is. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. If we got the cattle theft problem to go away, we’d still have money worries. If we got those resolved, we’d still have the weather to obsess over. At least it’s not boring, right?”

  But that last question fell a little flat. “I’m just worried about Hunter,” Hadley said. “After the episode with Avery, he just kind of shut down. I’ve been trying to read up on PTSD and everything, but I’m nowhere near qualified to help him deal with this.”

  “I don’t think you have to solve anything for him,” I said, sitting up and gathering my long hair back into its topknot. “Just be ready to listen when he’s ready to open up. That’s all you can really do — unless he can be compelled to see a professional.”

  “He can hardly be compelled to do anything,” Hadley muttered. “Now, about your knee.”

  “I’m ready. I can feel it.”

  “I want another week with you resting it,” she said, making me groan in consternation.

  “Another week? What’s seven more days going to do?”

  “Make sure you’re completely healthy before running off and doing something stupid.”

  “Seriously, Hadley, riding felt just fine. I can do everything I used to do. It’s the brace that’s holding me back.”

  “I’m the physical therapist, not you,” she said, finally making a notation in my file and snapping it shut. “I know what’s best for you even if you don’t believe me.”

  “It’s just that Chance needs me out there,” I said, trying to find the argument that would work on her. “They’ve been down a man this whole time. I hate the idea of people making up work I’m supposed to be doing. This place has gotten a lot bigger.”

  “All I can do is make recommendations,” Hadley said, putting her hands on her hips. “Even if none of you Corbins ever listen to me.”

  “Does that mean I can get back to work?” I asked eagerly.

  “Would you at least do me the favor of waiting for tomorrow? Resting for the remainder of today?”

  “Sure!” I exclaimed, never feeling as excited as I was to get back to work. I could forget about the horsing operation, drive the worrisome phone call from my mind, and maybe even run some Hunter reconnaissance for Hadley if I could just get back on a horse and out on the ranch.

  “Well, get on out of here, then,” she said. “I’ve got people who need more help than you do.”

  I exited the examination room as Hadley beckoned the old man with the bum elbow on in. That’s what I liked about Hadley. She was no-nonsense, no frills about her practice. Every time I came here for therapy throughout my recovery, she was always moving the patients through quickly, not wanting to keep them away from their various professions for too long. Of course, the majority of her clientele were ranchers. It was a hard life, getting beat up all the time.

  “You look pretty happy,” the young man said, glum in his seat, f
oot still encased in the padded boot. “I’m guessing you’re good to go.”

  “Practically,” I said, still carrying the knee brace in my hand. “Guess I won’t be needing this anymore.” I set it down on the countertop.

  “I won’t mince words — I guess I’m pretty jealous of you,” he said, staring hatefully at his foot. “I’m just at the beginning of my road to recovery — or whatever.”

  “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Goddamn horse stepped on my foot,” he said, huffing an offended sigh and rolling his eyes a little. “Broke my damn foot, and it still hurts like a bitch.”

  “That’s some tough luck,” I said. Horses were dreadfully heavy.

  “You’re telling me. I wish I never had to lay eyes on another horse again.”

  “You’ll have to avert your eyes, then. I rode my horse up to the clinic. She’s waiting outside.”

  He sighed again. “Your horse doesn’t bother me. Hell, I shouldn’t be bothered at all. It would cost me my job if I decided I was serious about never having to look at another horse again.”

  “What outfit are you with?” I asked, just to be polite. I was still too excited about my positive diagnosis to pay proper attention to what he was saying.

  “The breeding operation at Dax Malone’s.”

  And then my focus narrowed again. “Dax Malone, did you say?”

  “I did, that mean old son of a bitch. Laughed himself silly when I had to hop to the truck to take myself to the hospital. It’s a living, I guess. Maybe things’ll be better when his kid takes over the place.”

  “Good luck to you in your recovery,” I said, already striding out the door, feeling strong and confident and with a plan in place. It was all the better that Hadley asked me to save going back to work for tomorrow. I had business with Dax Malone.

  I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. I’d learned from plenty of people around the region to build my knowledge of the horses, shadowing vets and folks who’d learned equine know-how from facts passed down from their ancestors. But I’d never stumbled upon the idea of actually going to Dax Malone and learning about a breeding operation from a breeder himself. Probably because he was a rotten bastard. And because I didn’t want it to get back to my brothers.

  I put Sugar out to pasture after removing her saddle — she deserved a little fresh air — and commandeered a truck. We had three we juggled among ourselves, which was usually enough. They weren’t used for much more than Zoe making a supply run for groceries and toiletries, or Tucker going in to town to drink a little bit every so often. I wondered whether Chance was still poring over all the bills and cattle logs inside before hauling myself up and retrieving the keys from the sun visor.

  Dax Malone’s outfit was a good 45-minute drive from the ranch. It was a bit of a haul, but that was just the nature of living in ranching country. You had to drive past everyone’s sprawling parcels of land before you could do any business face to face. The first thing I noticed, though, finally getting onto Dax’s land, was just how nice he kept his fence line. Our ranch was so big and our needs so immediate that we just had simple posts from mesquite or cottonwoods or whatever branches we could find, wrapped with barbed wire to dissuade the cattle from making a run for it. Dax had pretty four-board fences, all painted a perfect white. It confirmed to me that he was making more than enough money on his operation to keep things looking pretty good around his land. Wouldn’t Chance get a kick out of four-board fences? Maybe we’d paint them a crazy color just to mess with people.

  I steered the truck down a winding gravel road kept neat and free from ruts and divots, bordered on both sides with that ubiquitous four-board white fence. It was almost too much, that fence, now that I was surrounded by it on all sides, but I had to appreciate the effort it had to take to keep it looking as nice as it did. On either side, the pasture lands rolled, and horses grazed on the grass. I wondered if he watered the fields, or had some kind of irrigation system rigged up. They looked like they hadn’t suffered at all with the drought plaguing everyone else in the area.

  I stopped the truck at the first barn I came to and got out, feeling like a fish out of water, but strangely excited. What would my breeding operation look like once I got it up and running? Would my brothers take it as an affront if I portioned that area of the ranch off with four-board white fences?

  It probably wasn’t a good idea, walking up to the old man’s barn announced. I’d heard legends about his penchant for shotguns and asking questions much later than he should’ve. But I needed advice and I needed it now. I’d waited long enough, doing all the research I could manage. There wasn’t a book I hadn’t read about horse breeding operations. Dax Malone was the horsing resource I required.

  “What’s a Corbin doing away from his family’s cattle?”

  I stopped short in my tracks, unwilling to provoke a man I knew — at least from town gossip — to have a volatile temper.

  “I just wanted to have a quick chat with you, sir, providing you’re not too busy to,” I said, trying to look and sound as nonthreatening as possible. I took my hands from my pockets and held them down to my sides, palms facing outward.

  “I’m busy all the time, Corbin,” he barked, peering at me from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. “And you should be, too. I know what kind of shit your ranch is in. Same as all the others in this area — minus the Billings place.”

  “You could hardly call that a ranch.”

  “He’s the only place turning a profit these days. I imagine he can call it whatever he damn well pleases.”

  “I guess.” I shifted my weight from foot to foot, wondering if I’d fucked up by disrespecting the Billings operation. Who knew whether Dax considered Bud Billings among his friends?

  “What is it you wanted to talk to me about, anyway?” Dax asked, an irritable edge to his voice. “Some of us have to work, you know.”

  “I just wanted to pick your brain about your operation,” I said hopefully. Maybe I could appeal to his sense of pride. “They say you’re one of the best in the state.”

  “You do know this is a horse farm, don’t you, jackass?” he snorted, deflating me thoroughly. “I don’t know shit about cattle, nor do I want to.”

  “It’s the horses I’m interested in,” I said. “Call it professional curiosity.”

  “You just came all the way over here because you wanted to talk about horses with me?” Dax seemed to consider this for a few long moments, taking his hat off and wiping sweat away from his red brow with the edge of his sleeve. “Are you an idiot, or what?”

  “Excuse me?” I didn’t drive all the way out here to be insulted — that was for sure.

  “Why the hell would I want to stand around all day, shooting the shit with you about my horses? What’s in it for me?”

  This was certainly unexpected. “I — I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at,” I stammered, feeling like the idiot Dax Malone had called me. “I just thought you might want to share some of your wisdom with me about your horses. I don’t know if you know this, but my family still uses horses on its ranching operation. One of my roles is to take care of those horses.”

  “Feed them, shovel their shit, and keep them clean,” he said, speaking slowly, as if to someone he knew wouldn’t grasp his words. “That’s literally all you have to do to keep a horse alive.”

  “I know how to keep them alive,” I said. “I do that already. I wanted to know more about your breeding operation. Out of curiosity. Nothing more.”

  “You can take your curiosity and shove it up your ass,” Dax said succinctly. “Now get the hell off my property.”

  “Mr. Malone, please —”

  “If you think I’m going to give you pointers on the horse business when you Corbins already have one of the biggest plots of land in the state, you’re a bigger fool than you look.”

  And, just like that, our casual meeting was unceremoniously ended, the breeder stalking
back to the barn, and me getting back into the truck before he could decide to show me his shotgun to prove just how serious he was about his dismissal.

  I guess I should’ve expected it. Ranchers were, for the most part, a gregarious lot, eager to help their fellow ranchers in times of need and doubt. When it was time to vaccinate or brand, life on the ranch turned into a big party. Families and ranch hands from adjacent operations would come by to help — with the understanding that we would always help them in the same ways, when the time came. Maybe breeders were a cagier lot. Dax Malone didn’t want to share any trade insights with me because he didn’t want me taking any of his business. He’d seen right through my lie about curiosity. All I could hope for now was that he didn’t go flapping his jaws around town about the middle Corbin who dreamed of something other than cattle ranching. That was the last thing I needed.

  I drove in no particular direction, nowhere to be until bright and early tomorrow morning, painfully aware of the fact that I was right back at square one with absolutely no progress made on my dreams.

  Chapter 2

  So what if I went into town for one night of my life? Everyone did it, and my brothers took their pleasures there far more often than I did. I guess I just didn’t understand why I felt so guilty about it. I never drank to get drunk, not like the others were so prone to do. It was impossible to do a good job working the ranch with a hangover, even if it rarely stopped anyone else from trying. It just wasn’t what I was about.

  What I craved tonight was some kind of company.

  I didn’t go out seeking companionship. I just didn’t want to be in the trailer, alone again. I thought it would be better to be away from the tumult of the house, Toby underfoot, everyone coming and going. But all it left me with were my thoughts — my anger at my brothers, at the reality that they would never take anything I said seriously. Hunter and Avery already had what they wanted. Tucker and Chance were doing just fine, too. Why, then, was I the one who had to suffer all the time? I did the most work out of anyone, and the best work, if we were being completely honest, but that didn’t mean a single damn thing to any of them.