Cowgirl, Unexpectedly

by Vicki Tharp

  In a way, it made sense in that there was little movement on the investigation from Sheriff Tate’s end. He’d had to tell us about the notification that the cattle had shown up at auction because another department had notified him. I didn’t understand what his motive would be. Money? Maybe. Did that mean he was involved with setting the trap and the fire? If so, how did he benefit from those things?

  Too many questions without answers. What I did know was if the sheriff was involved, and if things escalated and we didn’t have the sheriff and perhaps his men on our side, then we could easily be outgunned, and things could go sideways faster than you could say clusterfuck.

  As I leaned against the wall near the pay phone, waiting my turn, I also waited for that familiar itch to crawl up my spine, the one that told me to hop on my steel horse and, as the cowboys used to say, “Get the hell out of Dodge.” I waited and waited. The pay phone freed up and still I waited, but the itch never come, not even the barest tickle. Because the urge to stay and fight, to see this thing through as well as my connection to Hank and this amazing, crazy group of people on the Lazy S was like calamine lotion on poison ivy. It soothed me.

  Even though I’d seen enough trouble for several lifetimes, I wanted to stay.

  At least for now.

  I picked up the phone and dropped coins into the slot. The call was answered on the first ring. “Yo.”

  I chuckled. God, I’d missed hearing that voice. All deep and velvety. If he hadn’t been crazy in love with his wife, he’d have been the one whose bones I would have jumped and risked a court-martial if given half a chance. But he was and while we’d gotten close during our deployment together, he was like a brother to me now. “Boomer, it’s—”

  “Hot damn! How are you, Mac?”

  The auction house was noisy and I put my finger in my open ear. As it was, I could barely hear him so I got straight to the point. “I need your help.”

  “Where and when?”

  I knew he’d say that. Hang up, hang up, hang up! He has a wife. You have no fucking business dragging him into your shit.

  I didn’t know who else to call. I clutched the phone tighter to my ear. “That’s it? No questions asked?”

  “This important to you?”

  Right now, it was everything to me. “Yeah, it’s important.”

  “That’s all that matters,” he said. Then the ear I had to the receiver rang with his silence, I knew what he was going to say and I didn’t want to hear it. That wasn’t why I’d called him. “I owe you, Mac.”

  Maybe, but Boomer hadn’t survived deployment so he could get his ass killed stateside.

  Could I live with that? Live with his blood on my hands?

  When he spoke again, his voice was steady but low, as if he didn’t want his wife to hear. “You need steel?”

  Guns and ammo. He wanted to know if he needed to come armed. Bless the man. “Yeah, Boom…I think I do.” I rattled off directions to the ranch. Giving him an ASAP time frame.

  When I made it back to my seat, Jenna was bidding on a copper-colored gelding. His chest was wide and muscled, his rump round and powerful. His coat shone like, well, a new copper penny. The bidding was fierce. She raised her card a number of times. When the price hit a thousand dollars, she backed out. I know we needed horses, but we also needed the money. We sat through about a dozen other horses, but none of them caught her eye. Many of them were either too old, too young, or too thin. However, there was a man in the next section over who’d picked up several for under a hundred dollars each.

  “What’s he going to do with all those horses?” I asked Jenna.

  “He’s a kill buyer.”

  “A what?”

  “Kill buyer. He takes the ones no one wants and sends them to slaughter.”

  “I read that slaughter was outlawed in this country.”

  “It is, but that doesn’t stop them from shipping them up to Canada or down to Mexico.”

  I sat dumbfounded as the kill buyer purchased a healthy mare. “What was wrong with her?”

  “She’s pregnant. Most of these guys are searching for saddle horses and want something they can ride now without the extra mouth to feed.”

  A nice palomino that reminded me of Hank’s horse came up next. Jenna bid and won him for three hundred dollars. To me, it seemed like a steal.

  When the auctioneer announced there was one horse remaining, Jenna stood to leave. In fact, many of the people were already making their way down the aisle. Then the gate opened and the rattiest horse of the bunch stumbled through, her coat so caked with mud it was impossible to tell what color she was. It was a her. I knew, because it was the mare I’d given water to that morning.

  The auctioneer did his level best to up-sell her, but he had little to work with. Most people ignored him as they gathered their belongings. A few chuckled. The mare’s head hung as they prodded her to the center. The auctioneer backed the starting bid down to five dollars. “How about it, Chet?”

  The man he’d called Chet, the kill buyer, shook his head, but said, “Sure. Five bucks. Why not?”

  “The auctioneer didn’t even bother to try to up the price like he normally did when he got a bid. He knew he wasn’t getting a better offer. “Going once, going twice—”

  “Seventy-five dollars,” I called out.

  Jenna spun on her heel, “Mac…”

  The auctioneer was speechless for the first time tonight. Chet barked out laughter. “She’s all yours, sweetheart,” he said to me, “Even at five bucks it would cost me more to ship her than what she’s worth.”

  Just because you’re down and out doesn’t mean you’re worthless.

  I knew I probably could’ve bought her for ten dollars. Seventy-five dollars was all the money I had. Someone had let this poor horse down and somehow it was important to me that she be worth all someone had to offer. Even if I was the only one who’d ever know that.

  After we collected our check and paid for the horses, Jenna loaded the palomino into the front of the stock trailer and we coaxed the mare into the back, because frankly we were afraid she couldn’t make the short walk to the front. We tied a couple of the hay nets Jenna had brought to give them something to eat while we drove back.

  We stood there a few minutes and watched them munch. I gave Jenna credit for never once saying, “What were you thinking?” though I could see the question lurking behind her blue eyes.

  “She’s going to be fine, right?” I asked Jenna because I didn’t see how the alternative was an option. With the tip of my finger, I rubbed the end of the mare’s soft nose through the bars of the trailer.

  “Honestly?”

  I nodded, though by the way she blew out a breath with the word I really didn’t want to hear what she had to say. But as I’d learned more times than I cared to, where there is life, there is always hope.

  “It’s a four-hour trip back. Minimum. Trailering is tiring and can be stressful even for a healthy horse. She has no strength, no reserves….” Her gaze shifted away, unable to look me in the eye any longer.

  She was trying to prepare me. To let me know in all probability the horse was going to die. I nodded because all of a sudden I was too choked up to talk. Geez, it was just a horse.

  Yeah, but now it’s your horse.

  * * * *

  A vast array of bright stars greeted us as we arrived back at the ranch later that night. As Jenna and I climbed down from the truck, the horses from the pasture called out and our adoptees whinnied in return. I stretched the stiffness from my back and legs and sighed with relief when my horse called out.

  My horse.

  She wasn’t dead.

  That was a good thing. The problem was, what was I going to do with her when it came time for me to leave? I couldn’t exactly stuff her into my Harley’s saddlebags. Then there was the foal to co
nsider…What the hell have I done?

  Jenna climbed into the driver’s seat and I directed her as she backed the trailer up to the round pen where she wanted to keep the new horses for a week. A quasi quarantine in case they had anything contagious.

  “That’s far enough,” I called out when the trailer was close to the pen. We worked by the ambient light from the headlights as we unloaded the horses. My mare’s legs shook with fatigue as she stepped off the trailer. She took a long perusal of her new home, sniffed the air, then let out the biggest sigh I’ve ever heard in my life. Full of relief and hope. I know she didn’t understand what I’d saved her from, but the way she lowered her head and pressed it to my stomach made me wonder if perhaps on a certain level she did.

  When Jenna opened the gate to the round pen, the weathered hinges groaned. I led the mare in and removed her halter. Jenna wasn’t far behind with the gelding.

  “Do you think they’ll be okay together?” The palomino seemed friendly enough, but the mare was in no shape to defend herself if need be.

  Jenna led her horse to mine and let them sniff noses. They stood there for several seconds, nostril to nostril, breathing in each other’s breath the way horses do. Then the mare squealed and stomped her foot and the gelding jumped back.

  Laughing, Jenna said, “Yeah. I think they’re gonna be fine.”

  In short order, we’d hung the hay nets and found a large plastic tub to fill with water, and they were set for the night. The horses didn’t waste any time finding the food. The gelding would take a few mouthfuls, take a walk around the perimeter of the pen, sniffing the air and calling out every now and again. To my mare, it seemed the world didn’t exist outside the water trough or the hay bag. Standing and chewing consumed all of her available energy. She didn’t have the reserves to do anything else.

  “I think I’m going to head up to the house.” Jenna stepped up to where I was leaning against the rail, unable to take my eyes off my horse.

  I still couldn’t believe I’d bought her.

  “About my dad…”

  I glanced at the house. All the lights were out except for the porch light by the kitchen door. We were too far away from the cabins to know if Hank was still awake, but chances are he’d gone to bed like the rest of them. “First thing in the morning, then,” I told her with a tone that brokered no argument or chance of further reprieve.

  “First thing. Promise.” She leaned in and hugged me unexpectedly. “Thank you. For being there for me.”

  “Yeah,” I said, surprised when my voice sounded steady when I’d had to shove the word past the constriction in my throat. She released me and I narrowed my eyes at her with mock sternness. “First thing tomorrow.”

  She smiled and raised her hands in surrender. “First thing.”

  I watched as she climbed the porch steps. After a long day, Dread had finally hit the hay himself, so to speak, but it was a fitful slumber. He poked me in the gut at random moments either because he was rolling over or because he didn’t want me to forget he was still there. Either way, he was hard to forget.

  When my horse couldn’t stand another moment, her legs buckled beneath her, like a building imploding. She settled with a groan onto her chest, but that didn’t stop her from munching on the hay. I climbed into the pen and lowered the hay bag so she could reach it easier.

  The gelding had settled into his own bag, so I sat down beside her and leaned against her shoulder. I really should get to bed myself. Even in the darkness, I could see the hulking shadow of the barn. There was still a lot to clear and I wanted to get up early to tend to my horse before my work started for the day. Maybe give her a bath if she was strong enough for it.

  Still, I couldn’t bring myself to leave her yet. She was by no means out of the woods, and I worried she might die during the night. If she did, I wanted her to know she wasn’t alone. That someone cared.

  Drained, I threw and arm over her shoulder and rested the side of my head on her tangled, matted mane and closed my eyes. She reeked of rancid mud, mixed with a healthy dose of stale urine and manure. Deep down, beneath all that was that aroma, that redolence that was all horse that had somehow seeped into my skin and given me comfort. I didn’t know how long I’d own a horse, but that unique bouquet will stick with me for a lifetime.

  The soft, rhythmic sound of her munching hay lulled me into semi-consciousness. The palomino stomped his foot a couple times like horses do when a fly is buzzing their legs. The crickets had settled into a lulling concerto and in the distance, coyotes yipped and howled.

  I must have dozed off because when the crickets fell silent, I snapped awake, instantly on alert. I’d left my rifle back at the cabin this morning, so I had no protection with me besides the knife I kept in my boot. Off to my right came the sound of footsteps. I sat very still in the darkness, hoping the horse would hide my form until I knew if I was in any real danger. As the footsteps got closer, the distinct hesitation in Hank’s stride was unmistakable. From the rhythm he tapped out, his leg was incredibly sore.

  The palomino nickered and walked over to the railing as Hank materialized out of the darkness, his hair tousled as if he’d fought a couple rounds with his pillow. “Hey,” he said as he reached a hand out to rub the horse’s nose.

  “Hey, yourself. I thought everyone would be asleep by now.”

  When the horse figured out Hank didn’t have any treats for him, the palomino was quick to go back to his hay. Hank grabbed the top bar of the pen, hauled himself over the top and landed with a light thud and a muffled grunt.

  “You need to go easy on the leg.”

  “I’m fine.” Hank swatted off the remark the same way you would a pesky fly and then he slid to the ground beside me, using the mare as a backrest. I couldn’t tell if she noticed because she never broke her rhythmic pull, munch, munch, munch, swallow. Pull, munch, munch, munch, swallow.

  “So,” he said at last. “Something you wanna tell me?”

  Dread woke up with a start, throwing a frenzy of punches and kicks as if fighting an enemy he couldn’t see. “Uh…” I didn’t want to be the one to have to explain about the birth control. That was Jenna’s job. How had Hank known I was hiding something?

  “The horse,” he said, as he patted his living cushion. “What’s up with the horse?”

  Mentally, I shoved my head between my legs to keep my brain from hyperventilating. Jenna’s confession couldn’t come soon enough.

  “Um, yeah.” I shrugged one shoulder. “I couldn’t let the kill buyer take her.”

  “I can see that.”

  “I’m sorry if this is a problem for you guys. I’ll pay for her feed and care. That’s on me. I don’t expect anyone else to take responsibility for her. I’ll pay Dale to board her here if I have to. He can take it out of my pay—”

  “Relax, Army.” He reached down and rubbed the cold from my hands and the tension from my body. I didn’t know how the hell he did that, but it was kinda like finding more money in your bank account than you’d expected. You don’t question it. You smile and accept it. “It’s not a problem.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No. It’s not.” A smile tipped his lips. “In fact, I kind of like the idea.”

  “Why’s that?”

  He kissed my knuckles. “She ties you down. Makes it harder for you to leave.”

  “I’ll have to leave eventually.”

  “Says who?”

  I removed my hand and twisted toward him. In the starlight, his expression was hard to read, but there was an earnestness there, a sincerity I found hard to face. I traced an abstract pattern in the dirt with my finger. Was he asking me to stay? If he was, did I want to? The scary thing was I think I did. I liked this place. My job. These people.

  Hank.

  I really, really liked Hank.

  I absorbed his words. Way down deep. Tu
rned it over and examined it closely. He was right. I could stay. I was a free woman. I could do what I wanted when I wanted. The only thing that could keep me from staying was myself. I was tired of running. Of life on the road. Of being alone. Then again, maybe I’m getting ahead of myself and that wasn’t what he meant at all. Wouldn’t that be embarrassing? “What do you mean?”

  “Damn, this old girl stinks,” he said, as he heaved himself up.

  That fact that he’d done it without bearing weight on his injured leg was a bad sign. He helped me to my feet and wrapped his warm arms around my waist, snuggling me up against him. I slipped my arms around him and laid my head on his chest. I liked the way his heart beat strong and steady beneath my ear. A strength, a constant I could draw from.

  “I mean that I like you here,” he said.

  There was a scuffle of hooves and my horse lurched to her feet, swayed, and then nudged me into Hank. He took a step back to catch his balance. She was much stronger than I’d given her credit.

  He chuckled. “Never had a horse for a wingman before.”

  When she went back to her hay, he tilted my chin up with one hand so he could look me in the eye. “What I mean is you matter to me. Matter more than anyone has in a long time.”

  “It’s been a long, crazy week. Stress can push people together. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

  It does mean something. In this case at least. You know it does, Mac.

  When he nodded, deep in thought, my heart sank. No. He should be shaking his head no. Not agreeing with me. When are you going to learn to keep your fucking mouth shut, Mac?

  “I understand what you’re saying, but, Mackenzie, you’re dead wrong.”

  I am? Why did my bones always act as if they’d decalcified and turned all bendy when he called me by full name? I’d never liked the name before.

  He dropped my chin, ran his hands down my arms, and engulfed my fingers with his. “I don’t know where this will lead, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to see where it’ll go. It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt that way about any woman. You’re something rare, something special. Call me a selfish bastard if you want, but I’m not ready to give that up yet.”