by Caro Carson
Aren’t you a little young to be so cocky?
Graham ignored the ranch hand who was supposed to be helping him. He opened the ATV’s drain plug and let the oil start draining into the drain pan. Pretty elementary stuff, but apparently this young cowboy thought it was a big test of manhood that the new guy—the greenhorn—might fail. He was watching Graham like a hawk. What he wasn’t doing was helping.
“Hand me the filter wrench,” Graham said.
“You’re the greenhorn. You do the fetching and carrying.”
Graham was too old for this crap. Too old, and too experienced. He stayed where he was, on one knee by the ATV, and wiped the oil off his fingers with the rag, taking his time. “Here’s the problem, Sid. You stuck the filter wrench under your ass when you sat on that bench. Either you want to watch me search through the toolbox for something you know isn’t there, or you want me to come and stick my hand under you to get the wrench.” He looked from his hand to the cowboy. “Either way, Sid, you got the wrong man.”
He finished wiping his fingers off and tossed the rag at Sid, who had no choice but to catch it if he didn’t want it to hit his chest. “Hand me the filter wrench.”
Sid threw it more than tossed it, but that was all right. Let him be pissed that he got bested. Graham caught the wrench and started loosening the oil filter.
“Just testing you,” Sid said, sounding like a petulant child. “Don’t be touching me. Where’d you come from, anyway?”
“Chicago.”
Graham had planned on three months of silence. Three months of being alone to hear his own empty thoughts echo in his empty head. Not happening.
“What’d you do in Chicago?”
“I dropped out of college.” Graham hid a smile at the way Sid nodded in approval. “How about you? Have you been here long?”
“James hired me last roundup. Old James, not the football James. That one goes by Trey.”
“Yeah, I got that. I haven’t met the older James yet.”
“Probably won’t before roundup. He and his wife are off on one trip or t’other most of the time. Go to Timbuktu or something.”
Very precisely, without thinking about anything else, Graham took the new oil filter out of its cardboard box. He kept the box in his palm. It was perfectly empty, like his brain. He knew nothing. He wanted to know nothing.
My aunt and uncle travel around the world. The memory was clear, even the way Emily had stood between his knees when she’d said it, barefoot on the cold ground, excitedly explaining her plan.
Graham dragged his sleeve across his mouth. Trey. Emily had said her other cousin’s name was Trey. Graham couldn’t keep his mind blank enough.
“How about Luke?” Graham asked. Go ahead and hit me with it.
Sid did. “You’ll see more of him than you want to. Luke runs the place. He’s on some hoity-toity honeymoon with his hoity-toity bride right now.”
He kept talking, but Graham didn’t hear a thing over the roaring in his head. Of course Sid hadn’t said never heard of anyone named Luke. Of course not. God-effing-dammit. Holy frigging crackers.
A Texas girl’s idea of a family ranch was wildly different than his own.
He needed to keep a cool head. He had no choice but to adapt to the change of plans. There was a definite upside: he’d see Emily, and he’d see her often. His heart wouldn’t be so far away.
But if so, he should have already seen her. She should have beaten him by two hours or more to Gus’s office. She could have decided to drive back to Austin to confront her mother first. He could see Emily wanting to get the hardest part out of the way. He hoped she’d thought to pack her things in her truck before her parents had a chance to throw her out. She wouldn’t obey Graham’s order—his request—to call him if she needed help, but he should never have left his phone in his SUV, signal or no signal.
“Fancy.” Sid was suddenly intent on something outside the door of the ATV shed. “Mm, mm, mm. That there is some fancy meat walkin’.”
Graham hardly needed to turn around to see what was making Sid lick his chops.
Emily was walking past the shed, oblivious to their presence. The Texas winter sunshine was as beautiful on her as the moonlight. How could he feel this irrationally happy to see her again? It was like seeing her after years instead of hours. The pleasure of it hurt.
He stood to watch her pass, same as Sid. Emily wore a plaid shirt, mostly red, a muted color like the barns. It was tucked into jeans that were belted with a silver Western buckle that reflected sunlight for one second of sparkle. The decorative boots had been replaced by a pair that looked plain and sturdy. Then she was past the shed and he was admiring the view from behind. Her braid was still wet, but she’d redone it so that it was hanging down her back, as straight as her spine.
“Mmm-hmm, I’d tap that,” Sid said. “I’d tap that hard and I’d tap that long.”
It would be so easy to break Sid in half. So very easy.
Graham couldn’t give away his relationship with Emily, not without talking to her first. How would she want to handle this new situation?
“I’ve had my eye on her for a while,” Sid said, frowning at him. “Don’t get any ideas, greenhorn. I got dibs.”
No, Sid, you don’t. Not in this lifetime.
Then Graham remembered that Emily wasn’t just out walking to take in the mild weather. She was headed directly for the barn that held Gus’s office. She was going to get her job.
Even the Marine Corps didn’t have enough curse words to express Graham’s feelings as he quickly screwed on the new filter and poured in new oil through a funnel.
“You do the other ATV and clean up,” he ordered Sid as he headed out of the shed.
“Hey. No, man, you’re the green—”
“Give it a rest. I’ve got something to do.”
Something he dreaded.
* * *
Nothing to be nervous about. It’s only the first day of the rest of your life.
Emily took a deep breath and knocked on the door frame to the foreman’s office. Gus always left the door open.
“Emily. Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”
“It’s good to be back, thank you. Gus, let’s talk about where I fit—”
“Hardly got to talk to you last time you were here, what with all the wedding goings-on and the ice storm and all. How’s college treating you?” He kicked back in his desk chair, ready for a talk.
“Well, I’m done with college, actually.” She’d never in her life felt so nervous to talk to the foreman.
Gus squinted at her. “Did I not get the invitation to the party? I know your mama’s gonna throw a graduation party.”
“I’ve got one class left, but I’ll take it this summer online and get my diploma in September. I don’t need to spend an entire semester in Oklahoma just to take that one class.”
“Huh. Thought you said done.”
Emily knew what that skeptical sound and that squinty look meant. Gus had always made all the cousins tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. “I’m not technically done, I know. But for all practical purposes, I am. It’s almost a formality right now, and that is the absolute truth. So, Gus, let’s talk about—”
“September now? I thought it was going to be May.”
“September.” Exasperation made her ditch her opening line. “Gus, I’m trying to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
She looked at the man who’d hoisted her onto her first pony and felt a very real affection for him. Everything was going to be okay. “You know I always wanted to be you when I grew up, right?”
“You’ll never be as pretty as me, but you might have even more horse sense than I do. You and Trey, the both of you, ever since you were itt
y-bitty.”
Emily smiled patiently. Trey was long gone from the ranch, having nothing to do with it as an adult, but she supposed Gus had fond memories of their childhoods. The only thing she’d seen Trey ride when he came back for the wedding was an ATV—although he’d used that to save Rebecca from freezing to death in an ice storm, so she had to give Trey major kudos for saving a life.
“Thanks, Gus. You’ve taught me horses and more. I’m here because I want to keep learning about ranch management from you.”
Gus stood up from his desk and looked around his office as if she’d asked him for a stapler or something and he was ready to hand it to her. “What do you need to know?”
“Nothing specific. I mean I’m ready to work here year-round now. College really is over, and I want to work for the man who’ll always be prettier than me. I was in the kitchen with Uncle James and Luke last month when they decided to hire another ranch hand. I can save you the time and trouble of putting out an ad. You won’t waste time interviewing slackers. I’d like the job.”
“What job? Ranch hand?”
“That’s me.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing.”
Emily held on to her pleasant expression, but Gus wasn’t looking so friendly. He got serious, fast.
“You should know better than to ask me, young lady. You should know better.”
* * *
Graham didn’t run to the barn, but he came close. He walked in the open door at a good clip, temporarily blinded in the relative darkness after the bright Texas sun. Left to right, check the—
Screw it. The stalls would be impossible for one man to clear.
Not clear. He went to get Emily, anyway.
His rubber-soled boots made no noise on the concrete, and the door to Gus’s office was open, so he became an accidental eavesdropper, stopping when he heard Emily’s voice.
“The timing is great. Luke needs the help, you need the help.”
“Now, all that might be true, but—”
“There’s no might about it, Gus. I can do anything you need. You know I can, but I’m not asking for the high end of the pay scale. The starter will be enough for the first contract. I need the room more than the pay.”
“Room? Room? You aren’t expecting me to put you in that bunkhouse with a bunch of men.”
Graham felt the pause. He walked to the door and saw Emily’s back as she faced Gus over the desk. The set of her shoulders was familiar. She was about to set the record straight. He almost smiled.
“Actually, I am. I’m expecting you to put me in that bunkhouse as a ranch hand with other ranch hands. It’s part of the standard compensation. It’s got nothing to do with women or men. Besides, I wouldn’t be the first woman you’ve hired who goes to live in that bunkhouse.”
“The last one we hired ended up getting married.”
“Which is not against the law. Refusing to hire someone just because she’s female is.” But Emily stopped there. Her tone softened. “C’mon, Gus, it was a nice wedding. Shelley and Steve make a great team, or you wouldn’t still be hiring them to get the cattle to auction every year.”
“Your mama has higher expectations for you than living in an RV with some two-bit itinerate cowboy.”
“Ouch. Poor Steve.”
Graham smiled to himself. Way to go, Emily. She was using humor instead of getting sucked into an argument.
Gus continued to expound on all the reasons the bunkhouse was unsuitable, from the beer-stained furniture to the vulgar language she might hear, none of it, in Gus’s opinion, fit for a lady. Graham didn’t think Gus was doing it on purpose, but he was derailing the conversation, sending it off on a sidetrack when Emily had come to be hired for her ranching skills.
Emily slid her hands into her back pockets. “I know you mean well, Gus, but I’m not the helpless kind of female.”
“I know that.”
“I don’t think you do.” She paused, and Graham wondered if she’d just remembered telling him the same thing on the side of the road. “I’ve been around cowboys my whole life. I know what to expect. I surely don’t need some kind of extra-fine lady sofa to sit on. This notion of chivalry actually can hurt more than help. If you kept me out of the bunkhouse for my own good, it would leave me homeless, which is worse.”
“Why would you ever be homeless? What does your mama have to say about all this?”
“I’m twenty-two. You don’t need my mother’s permission to hire me, and I don’t need her permission to ask for the job.”
“Emily Dawn—”
“But since you’ve known her a long time, let me tell you what’s going on there. I promised her I’d get a bachelor’s degree and I’m keeping that promise. In order to do that, I need a job, so I can afford that last class. I’ve got to get a job, Gus, and there is nowhere else I’d rather work.”
She shoots; she scores. Graham was proud of her. Impressed with her. Hell, he was ready to hire her.
Gus wasn’t. “You’re already free to work here as much as you like. You always do, every break you get from school.”
“Yes, but I don’t get paid for my work. I need the salary. I need the room. You’ll get your money’s worth out of me, and you know that.”
“I won’t ever hire you, young lady. You’re not a ranch hand, you’ll never be a ranch hand and you should know that.”
Emily was silent. She stayed just as she was, shoulders back, confident, but Graham could practically hear her hope bursting. She’d been so certain that if a plan was reasonable, it would work. He’d tried to temper her expectations. He’d warned her to remember both possible outcomes: either it would work, or it wouldn’t.
She wasn’t ready for the wouldn’t. He could see Gus’s face beyond her, and a more stubborn expression on a man’s face couldn’t exist. The answer was no, fair or not.
His uncle had seen him outside the door, of course. He motioned him in now. “I’ve already hired the new ranch hand. Emily, let me introduce you to Benjamin Graham.”
He saw her little jump at the name. She whirled around to face him, and for a second, for one precious second, her eyes lit up with joy at the sight of him. Then the implications came crashing through her. Every emotion passed over that expressive, beautiful face, until she settled on being...horrified.
“You—you took my job?”
“Emily.” But he could only greet her without revealing their relationship.
“What are you doing here?” She was baffled. She turned back to Gus. Turned back to Graham. “You’re supposed to be out in the middle of nowhere. This isn’t nowhere.”
“I know that now.” He wondered if she realized she’d just revealed that they’d already met and discussed where he was supposed to be.
“What have you done, Graham?” The despair, the betrayal in her voice tore at him. “You heard me say the job hadn’t been advertised yet, so you came here first? You decided to beat me to it? That is so low.”
“No, that’s not it.”
But she’d turned to Gus. “And you hired him? Over me?” Her horror gave way to fury. “He knows nothing about ranching. Nothing. He’s from Chicago. I’m the cowboy you’ve trained for how long? Fifteen years? And you chose him over me?”
Now Gus was the one in shock, clearly wondering how Emily knew anything about Graham.
Emily made no allowance for Gus’s shock. “I mean, the bunkhouse—you can’t be so old-fashioned that you think it’s more important to be a man than to actually be a cowboy. Just being a man doesn’t make him better than me. Not when you know how good I am at the job.”
“Emily, I’m sorry,” Graham began.
She threw her hand in his direction in disgust, a hand that shook with emotion as much as it ever had from freezing lake water. “You’ve never even
ridden a horse, and you got my job.”
The cat was out of the bag now. They knew one another, no pretending otherwise, so Graham wasn’t going to stand still and watch her go through so many terrible emotions. She looked pale, frail, cold. He crossed the distance between them and put his hand on her waist, as if he were going to get her out of a bad situation.
Her first instinct was to trust him. She grabbed him, a fistful of shirt, and steadied herself. But after one breath, she pushed away, palm flat against his body.
“Don’t—” she said in a whisper. “Just don’t.”
She stood taller. Lifted her chin. Leveled a look on Gus and spoke stiffly. “I’ll never be a ranch hand, you said. I know you’re wrong. All I want is to be a rancher, so I’ll need to find work elsewhere, but I’ll need a reference. You could vouch for my horse sense. My experience on cattle drives. Running the baler. Can I rely on you for that much?”
Gus’s brow knit in consternation. “First of all, young lady, I didn’t hire Benjamin just because he’s male. He’s a veteran, and he’s strong and he’s smart. I don’t appreciate you thinking I’d put someone on the James Hill who was useless.”
“But I am your nephew,” Graham said, watching Emily to see if she’d figured that out yet, although Gus’s last name was Montano. “I appreciate you giving me the opportunity, but I wouldn’t have gotten it if I wasn’t your nephew.”
“Ranches are all about family.” Gus leaned forward, knuckles on his desk, white with pressure as he stayed intent on Emily. “Family, did you hear me? There is one reason I’ll never hire you, and it isn’t because of your skills or even because you’re a young girl. It’s because you’re family, and not just any family. You belong to the family that owns this land. I know our great country is supposed to be built on all men being created equal, but it ain’t that way in cattle country. Men that own their own grass outrank men that gotta buy their hay. Cattlemen outrank foremen like me. The foreman outranks the ranch hands.” He threw Graham a look. “The hands outrank the greenhorn, and so on. Miss Emily—do you remember how I always called you Miss Emily? Miss Emily should know that I’m not going to take a Waterson and make her a ranch hand on her own gosh-danged-blessed land.”