“You’re kidding.” J.T.’s expression matched the astonishment in his voice. “I’ve never seen longhorns on the Triple C. I don’t remember Joseph ever mentioning he had any, either. Where did they come from?”
“Dad bought a small herd when I was a little kid—maybe twenty-five years ago,” Cade said. “He’d planned to experiment with crossbreeding longhorns with Brahmas for rodeo stock. He didn’t want them crossing with the Herefords so he kept the whitefaces in the pastures nearest the house and barns. Dad turned the longhorns and Brahma cows loose out here, which put two strong fences and acres of pasture between the two.”
“Do you think the longhorns you saw today are what’s left of that herd?” Pete asked.
Cade shrugged. “I don’t know. I remember Dad selling off a bunch of them. I was a teenager when we rounded them up that last time but I don’t remember beating the bushes to make sure we got them all. I’m guessing we missed some of the bulls and cows in the first sweep and since we never went back to look again, they’ve been here ever since.” He nodded in the direction of the Triple C’s home pastures. “They’re clearly a Brahma-longhorn mix but it looked to me like they’ve also probably bred with Herefords from the main herd, probably strays that found their way up here from the home pasture.”
“How many of them do you think there are?” Mariah asked, fascinated by the idea of a herd of cattle living wild and hidden away from human eyes on the vast, untended acres of the Triple C’s outer range.
“Hard to say.” Cade shrugged. “Dad bought a few hundred in the original herd and I don’t remember how many we rounded up and sold. I do remember that he said there should have been a higher number that year when we shipped them to the sale barn.”
“So there may have been quite a few left from the original herd. Plus the calves that survived over the years since,” Jed commented. “How many years since your dad sold them?”
“I think I was fifteen that year,” Cade said. “So—around twenty years.”
Pete whistled, a long low sound. “That’s long enough for mama longhorns to have dropped a lot of babies.”
“That’s what I’m guessing,” Cade confirmed. He glanced around the circle, meeting each pair of eyes with a hard gaze. “And they’re dangerous as hell—especially the bulls. Those horns can gut a horse and rider in seconds. Which is why we’re all leaving them alone. If you see one, back away and ride off.”
“You don’t want them driven home with the rest of the cattle we’ve found?” Ash Turner lifted his eyebrows, clearly surprised.
“Not now.” Cade sipped his coffee, hands curled around the hot cup for warmth. “This is a fast trip to round up as many strays as we can find, drive them home, brand them, cut the bulls and sell the steers. The Triple C needs operating money, as much as I can find, as fast as I can get it. I can’t afford to chance anyone getting hurt—so we’ll leave the longhorns alone, for now.”
Silence reigned for a moment. The fire flickered, wood snapping and cracking as it burned. Beyond the circle of light, the dark night was filled with shadows and from atop a distant butte, a coyote howled, the sound echoing over prairie, coulees and broken badlands.
“For now?” Grady Turner repeated, his eyes narrowed over Cade. “You got something planned for those longhorns in the future?”
Cade cocked his head. “Hard to say.”
Grady grunted with amusement. “They’re cattle, which makes them an asset. You’re a cattleman—so I’m guessing you have a plan.”
“Like I said,” Cade said mildly. “Hard to say.”
Mariah’s gaze flicked from one man to the other, fascinated by the easy interaction between Cade and the Turner brothers. Renee had said the two families of boys had grown up together and clearly, it hadn’t taken them long to fall back into a casual, comfortable relationship with Cade’s return.
As she listened to the men discuss the possible market for the unexpected longhorn-Brahma mixed herd and the Herefords in the corral, she wondered just how dangerous the wild cattle were. And despite the danger, she couldn’t help but wish she could see one of them for herself.
As on the previous evenings in camp, Mariah was the first to climb into her sleeping bag that night. Within seconds of lying down, she was asleep, worn out by the day’s riding.
When the rest of the crew said good-night and sought their own beds some time later, Cade and Pete were the only ones awake. Pete rose from his seat by the fire and hobbled to the camp stove. He was in charge of cooking and did prep work before he went to sleep each night.
Cade walked the perimeter of the corral, as he always did each evening before sleeping, checking the sturdiness of the structure. He also made a last visit to the horses and mules. He’d done the same thing with the unit of Marines he’d commanded. He never slept until he’d assured all was safe and secure.
He spent a few moments with Jiggs, brushing an empty feed sack over the stallion’s back. The night was dark and Jiggs’s black silhouette nearly blended into the shadows.
“Yo, boss.” Pete loomed out of the shadows, carrying a sack.
“I thought you went to bed,” Cade told him.
“On my way,” the older cowboy replied. “I wanted to give these apple slices to the horses and mules first. Meant to give ’em apples this morning but I got busy and forgot. Didn’t think of it again until just now when I took the coffee out for tomorrow and saw the bag still there.”
“They’ll appreciate it.” Cade stretched out a hand. “I’ll help, if you’d like.”
“Sure.” Pete held out the bag.
Jiggs lipped slices from Cade’s palm. “Did you pack these apples especially for the horses?” he asked.
“No, I brought them for Mariah,” Pete responded. “She loves apples but these were frostbit that first night and they’re mushy. The horses and mules don’t care and Mariah wouldn’t complain, but she wouldn’t like them as well.”
“She doesn’t seem to complain about anything,” Cade commented.
“No, she doesn’t.” Pete fed slices to Sarge. “She’s got grit.”
“I didn’t think she’d last out here.” Cade glanced at the ring of sleeping bags around the fire where Mariah’s bright hair gleamed against a dark saddle seat. “In fact, I’d have bet money she’d have gone home that first morning after she had to sleep on the ground. It was pretty damned cold that night.”
“I knew she’d stick it out—even if it froze,” Pete said with quiet assurance. “She could have left J.T. and me to fend for ourselves when Joseph was gone but she didn’t. She not only stayed, she pulled her weight and worked hard.” His faded blue gaze met Cade’s. “J.T. and me think a lot of her. Like I said, she’s got grit.”
Cade nodded, acknowledging the blunt declaration of support. “I appreciate you looking out for her on this trip. When I asked you to keep an eye on her, I didn’t know how good a team you’d make,” Cade went on, a half smile curling his mouth. “The two of you are holding your own.”
“Damned straight.” Pete grinned with pride. He crumpled the empty bag. “If I’m going to hold up my end with Mariah tomorrow, I’d better head for bed. Night, boss.”
“Night, Pete.”
The old cowboy limped away to pull off his boots and crawl into his sleeping bag.
Cade rubbed Jiggs’s neck beneath his mane and the black rested his muzzle on Cade’s shoulder in companionable quiet.
Pete was right, he thought. Mariah had surprised him with her willingness to spend long hours in the saddle. She hadn’t complained about the rough conditions camping out. She hadn’t complained about doing her share of chores or tried to hand off her share to the men, although each of them had offered to take her jobs. She’d refused to take advantage of being the sole female in a group of men and Cade hadn’t failed to notice that while all the Turners teased her, they treated her with respect and courtesy. And for hell-raisers like the Turners, that spoke volumes about their interactions with her in the past.
Jed had told him that they ate breakfast nearly every morning at the café where Mariah worked, which meant they’d had plenty of opportunity to make passes at her. Knowing Jed and his brothers, Cade was sure they’d tested her but clearly, Mariah had managed to earn their respect.
Everything he learned about Mariah told him that she was a rare woman. And that made her dangerous. His mother had been such a woman—and his father had never recovered after losing her.
Cade had learned a hard lesson watching his father self-destruct—a wise man didn’t get involved with a woman like Mariah. Because walking away wasn’t an option—and losing her could plunge a man into a nightmare. It was true it had taken years for his dad to actually die—but Joseph Coulter had been a dead man walking from the second his wife died.
No sane man wanted that kind of dependence in his life, he thought grimly.
Cade spent a few more minutes with Jiggs before seeking his own bed, vowing to keep his distance from Mariah.
Two days later, Cade and J.T. spent all morning riding through brush and only netted three cows. The number of cattle the crew found had been dropping sharply and Cade was starting to believe it was time to head home with what they had. They could make a second sweep when they came back for the longhorns. He sent J.T. off to find the Turners and headed for Pete and Mariah’s section.
He found Pete driving a small cluster of cattle toward the camp and corral, but Mariah wasn’t with him. Cade rode closer and Pete lifted a hand in greeting.
“Where’s Mariah?” Cade asked when he reached the older cowboy, scanning the empty prairie behind.
“She’s just over that rise.” Pete jerked his chin toward the hill on their right. “We found a calf wandering by itself and Mariah’s walking it back, taking it slow. I told her I’d meet her at camp with this bunch.” He nodded at the five cattle ahead of him.
“Is this all you’ve seen today?” Cade asked.
“Yep.” Pete scanned the horizon before looking back at Cade. “You think maybe we’ve found all the strays we’re goin’ to, boss?”
“I’m leaning that direction,” Cade replied. “J.T. and I drove in three head a bit ago. We’ve ridden over every acre of our section and I’m pretty sure we got them all. I sent J.T. out to check in with Jed and ask if he needs any help. Looks like you don’t need another rider here so I’ll look up Ash and Dallas. Could be it’s time to head home and start branding.”
Pete nodded. “I was thinkin’ the same thing—told Mariah that when we stopped to eat lunch.”
“Speaking of Mariah,” Cade said as he swept a searching glance over the crest of the hill again but didn’t see her. “I’ll ride that way and check on her before I head over to Ash’s section.”
Pete nodded, lifting a hand in farewell as Cade reined Jiggs around and loped off.
Cade crested the hill, a long stretch of prairie spread out below him. Jiggs cantered down the slope and before they reached the base, Cade saw Mariah. She moved slowly toward him, her mare nudging a calf in the general direction of camp and corral.
As Cade watched, a cow broke out of a brush-filled coulee and trotted toward Mariah. The calf she’d been herding wasn’t an orphan, Cade realized, and things were going to get very ugly, very fast.
Cade urged Jiggs into a full run and they raced toward Mariah as the calf bawled, answering his mother’s call. The enraged cow bellowed, charging horse and rider, her head lowered, wicked hooked horns sweeping side to side as she ran.
Mariah fought to control her horse but the mare reared and spun, racing away from the charging cow.
Cade’s blood ran cold. The cow stopped to nuzzle her calf, but Mariah was still in danger. The prairie was rough ground, filled with holes that could trip a horse. If Mariah’s mare stepped in one of them, she could snap a leg and fall. Too many riders had died under just such circumstances and even if death didn’t occur, broken bones were nearly guaranteed.
Uncaring for his own safety, Cade sent Jiggs running flat-out, the big horse stretching, reaching for more speed with each long stride, trying to catch the mare before there was an accident.
The powerful stallion closed the distance, the prairie a blur beneath his hooves as he ran. Mariah looked over her shoulder and saw them before she faced forward again, desperately trying to slow the mare. But Zelda fought the bit and barely slowed her headlong flight.
Jiggs drew alongside, the two horses racing neck and neck.
“Kick your feet free of the stirrups,” Cade yelled.
Mariah complied instantly and he leaned toward her, controlling Jiggs with his knees and one hand on the reins.
His arm was an iron bar around her waist as he pulled her from the saddle. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against the hard wall of his chest.
Mariah barely registered the pain in her ribs where Cade had gripped her. Cradled in his lap, the saddle-horn bruising her thigh, she knew Zelda kept running alongside Cade’s big black. And then Jiggs slowed as Cade pulled him in with a powerful grip on the reins, and Mariah’s terrified mare raced ahead on her own, empty stirrups slapping her sides.
Mariah shuddered, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She clenched fistfuls of Cade’s shirt and pressed tighter against the warm hard strength of his body. Beneath her, Jiggs’s run became a gallop, then a canter until at last he stood still, his sides heaving as he dragged in air and tossed his head.
Cade threw the reins over Jiggs’s head, ground hitching the stallion, and slid off, taking Mariah with him and setting her on her feet.
She staggered as if the ground rolled under her, her legs impossibly wobbly, and Cade caught her by the arms, steadying her.
“Thank you,” she managed to get out, pushing her tumbled hair out of her eyes. Her voice shook and so did her fingers, her breathing choppy. “I don’t think I could have stopped Zelda.”
“Are you all right?” he demanded, green eyes burning as he swiftly scanned her. His hands stroked down her arms as if checking for breaks.
“Yes…I think.” She drew a deep breath, wincing as pain stabbed. Her ribs hurt where Cade had grabbed her to pull her off Zelda and she was sure she’d have bruises there tomorrow. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie to me.” His voice was brusque. “You’re in pain.”
“I’ll probably have a few bruises where you grabbed me,” she admitted reluctantly.
“Damn it. I’m sorry.” Cade ground out the words and let go of her arms, stalked several paces away, then strode back to loom over her. “What the hell were you doing with that calf? I told the entire crew to stay away from the longhorns.”
Mariah stiffened. “How was I supposed to know it was a longhorn? Or that it wasn’t an orphan?”
He ignored her comment. “You could have been killed. You’re damn lucky you weren’t hurt—if your mare had thrown you, that mama cow’s horns would have ripped you to pieces.”
“But she didn’t.” Mariah’s temper flared. “I didn’t do anything that any one of the crew wouldn’t have done, given the circumstances.”
“You’re not anyone else in this crew,” he roared. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you come along on this trip. Chasing cows that are damn near feral is too dangerous for a woman.”
“I wasn’t chasing a longhorn.” Mariah glared up at him, fists clenched at her sides. “And you’re not being fair.”
His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking. “You could have been killed,” he repeated, as if the narrowness of her escape had shocked him.
“But I wasn’t,” Mariah said stubbornly. “And you wouldn’t be yelling if this had happened to anyone else on the crew.”
His eyes flared with heat and before Mariah could blink, he wrapped his arms around her, hauled her up against his hard body, and took her mouth with his.
The kiss wasn’t sweet, nor cajoling, nor slowly sensual. It was purely carnal and reeked of domination and desperation.
Mariah reeled under the instant surge of h
eat that flooded her but she fought the need to give in to the desire to meet lust with lust and struggled to get her hands between them to push at his chest. He was immovable. So she did the next best thing. She bit his lip.
His head jerked back and he swore.
“Dammit. What the hell was that for?” he demanded. “That was to remind you caveman tactics don’t work for me,” she told him.
His eyes narrowed and a reluctant grin curved his mouth. “What does work for you?”
“You could ask. Nicely,” she added.
One big hand left her waist to stroke up her spine, then down again with slow, sensual exploration. The slight pressure of his hand just below her waist nudged her tighter against his hips and the hard proof of his arousal.
“You want me to say please?” His deep voice rasped and his eyelids half-closed over eyes dark with sensual heat.
“That would be a step in the right direction,” Mariah managed to say, her knees weak as he pressed her closer.
Green gaze holding hers, he bent and slowly stroked the tip of his tongue over the sensitive curve of her bottom lip, tasting her. “Please,” he murmured.
It wasn’t really a request, his voice more command than plea.
Mariah didn’t care. She’d made a stand and now she only wanted more of his kisses. Her eyes drifted closed. “Yes,” she whispered, going up on tiptoe to press her mouth against his.
What began with frustration quickly became much more. Mariah wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers threading into the soft hair at his nape below his Stetson.
When at last he lifted his head and looked down at her, arousal streaked color across the high arch of his cheekbones and his eyes glittered with heat between thick black lashes. The sensual curve of his mouth drew her gaze, desire clenching low in her abdomen as she stared, wanting to feel his lips on hers again.
Then his eyes went opaque, his face wiped of expression, his mouth thinning as he stepped back.
“We’d better get back.” His rough voice rasped, deeper, and the words were clipped.
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