by Marin Thomas
Changing the subject, she said, “I need an Easy Soaker.” The one she’d used on Tiger’s hoof yesterday had torn.
“Should be one right there.” Tom pointed to the boxes on the bottom shelf near the end of the aisle.
Kat checked. “Nope.”
“Be right back.” Tom set Kat’s purchases on the counter and disappeared into the storeroom.
A few seconds later, the cowbell on the door jangled. “Well, lookie here. If it ain’t our old boss.”
Bracing herself, Kat faced the menacing ranch hands.
“Heard you hired that pretty boy to work for you.” Roger stuffed a wad of chew between his gum and lower lip.
After Brody had settled into the trailer last night, she’d called Melissa’s brother on his cell and explained the Roger-Clyde fiasco. She’d also informed Wes that Brody would be helping out for a while. Wes must have mentioned the incident to another cowboy in the area. News traveled fast through the Hill Country. Kat hoped none of the neighboring ranch owners leaked the news to the Bakers while they were in Europe.
Kat attempted to step past the men, but they intercepted her. She managed a scowl even though her stomach churned. “Really?” she said. “We’re going to play this game?”
Right then the storeroom door opened and Tom walked out. “Got your Easy Soaker right here, Katarina.” Tom stopped short when he became aware of Clyde and Roger. He cast an anxious glance at Kat. “Mornin’, fellas.”
“Yer doin’ business with a traitor, Wheeler, you know that?” Roger’s lip curled in disdain.
“Well, now times are tough, fellas. I treat everyone’s dollar the same.”
Roger turned and walked out, Clyde trailing like a devoted hound dog.
“What did they want?” Tom asked.
“Nothing.” The bullies had a lot to learn if they believed she’d tuck tail and run from a few snide remarks and evil glares. “What do I owe you for today?”
Tom rang up Kat’s purchases and charged them to the Wild Rose account. She signed the ledger, then grabbed the shopping bag and left the store.
Halfway down the sidewalk Kat heard her name. “Mrs. Sovo! Mrs. Sovo!” People believed because she was the mother of a teenager she’d been married. Kat didn’t recognize the blond-haired woman rushing toward her.
“I’m Beth Hunter. Ricky’s told me a lot about you.”
Confused, Kat said, “I’m sorry. Have we met before?”
The woman cleared her throat. “I took for granted that Ricky had mentioned Stevie.”
Stevie? “I’m afraid not.” Feeling inept, Kat fumbled for an excuse. “I’ve been really busy at the Wild Rose and I’m afraid I haven’t had a chance to sit down with Ricky and ask what’s new in his life.” Kat nearly groaned at how that sounded.
“I’d forgotten that Mark and Melissa left on their trip.” Beth sighed. “A European vacation sounds romantic, doesn’t it?”
Having little experience with genuine romance, Kat kept her opinion to herself.
“Ricky invited Stevie to visit him at the Wild Rose, but I told him to check with you first.”
Embarrassed but not shocked that Ricky hadn’t mentioned his new friend, Kat asked, “How did the kids meet?”
“Booger’s Bait Shop.”
Kat knew of the bait stand, but was furious that Ricky was sneaking off in the afternoons to meet his friend instead of doing homework.
“Ricky stopped at Booger’s one afternoon when Stevie was buying bait and they got to talking about their favorite fishing holes. My husband, Karl, and I own ten acres south of Booger’s. We have a spring-fed pond and Karl keeps it stocked with smallmouth bass. The kids love fishing there.”
“I see.” Kat didn’t see at all.
Beth waved a hand in front of her face. “We don’t have any horses, so when Stevie discovered that Ricky lived at the Wild Rose…” Beth cleared her throat. “But if you’re too busy…”
“Too busy for what?”
“To give Stevie riding lessons. Ricky said you were really good with horses.”
“I am good with horses, but I’m afraid my job at the Wild Rose leaves me with little spare time.”
“Oh, goodness, I understand.” Beth’s cheeks turned pink.
Kat was ashamed of her rude behavior and blamed Clyde and Roger for rattling her nerves. She should be thrilled that Ricky had made a friend. “Why don’t you drop Stevie off at the ranch for a riding lesson next Sunday.” She’d find an hour in her day to give her son’s friend a few pointers.
“Great! Thanks so much, Mrs. Sovo.”
“Kat, please. Ricky’s father and I never married.” Kat couldn’t care less what people thought of her. If they had the misfortune of meeting Dwayne they’d understand why there was no Mrs. in front of Sovo.
Needing to get back to the ranch Kat said, “Nice to meet you, Beth.”
“Likewise. See you next Sunday.”
Kat hopped into her truck and left town. Ricky had a lot to answer for when she got home.
Home. She and Ricky had lived at the ranch a few short months but already the place felt like home. No way would she allow Roger and Clyde to sabotage her and her son’s dream of putting down roots at the Wild Rose.
BRODY STARED AT THE John Deere used to mow hay. Kat had left the ranch a half hour ago and he’d yet to drive the tractor from the barn. On occasion he’d operated a rotary mower when he’d worked for the Black Stone Ranch in Montana. This green monster had two large front tires and four massive rear tires. The modern piece of farm machinery had more bells and whistles than a pinball machine.
Ricky entered the equipment barn. “What’s wrong? You look scared.”
“I’m not scared.” Brody didn’t dare confess that he’d never handled a powerful machine like this before. “I was waiting for you.”
“Why? Am I supposed to help?”
“Yep.” Brody could use the extra moral support. Heck, he’d never been this nervous climbing on the back of a two-thousand-pound bull. That’s because the only thing you risk breaking is your neck. If he ruined the expensive tractor, Kat would suffer the consequences. “Guess I’d better familiarize myself with the controls.” He climbed into the cab and Ricky got in on the other side.
“Mom said the mower’s out by the field.”
Attaching the mower to the tractor was the least of Brody’s worries. First, he had to get this beast out of the barn.
The cab of the tractor was nicer than the interior of Brody’s truck—leather operator seat, a cup holder large enough to fit a quart-size water jug and a CD changer. Brody checked the four floor pedals. The one on the far left was the clutch. The two pedals on the right were the brakes—one for the left rear wheel and the other for the right rear wheel. The remaining pedal was the foot throttle used to control the speed of the tractor.
With a turn of the key, the engine rumbled to life. The instrument panel verified that the tire pressure was good, the gas tank full and the fluid levels for the oil and radiator normal. Brody released the clutch while he pressed the gas pedal and the tractor moved forward. The instant he cleared the barn, he engaged both brakes.
“The field’s that way.” Ricky pointed out the windshield.
“Find some music,” Brody said as he drove away from the ranch yard.
Ricky fiddled with the dials, stopping when a George Strait song came on. “Mom loves this dude.”
Brody got the tractor speed up to twenty miles per hour and it wasn’t long before he spotted the mower attachment lying at the entrance to the field. Several attempts later, Brody managed to position the tractor in front of the mower. The mower cut standing hay and laid it in long, thin piles to dry out. A different attachment raked the hay into narrower rows for the baler to handle.
“I want you to stay out of the cab until I get this mower hitched.”
“Why?”
Because Brody didn’t want to risk either of them getting hurt if Ricky accidentally shifted a gear and the trac
tor moved. “Do as I say, kid, or I’ll send you back to the barn.”
“Sheesh, you’re grumpy.” Ricky jumped down from the cab and walked several yards away. A few minutes later he hollered, “What’s taking so long?”
“Hold your horses.” Brody double-checked the three-point hitch. Satisfied it appeared in working order, he secured the mower. Brody would have to remain alert in the driver’s seat—constantly looking ahead to keep the tractor lined up with the rows and then glancing back at frequent intervals to make sure the mower didn’t become clogged.
“Okay, get in,” Brody said. Once Ricky was settled, Brody located the power takeoff shaft, which transferred the engine power to the mower, then cranked the engine. He set the tractor to the proper rpm and drove forward, lowering the mower at the same time. He circled the perimeter of the field until he found enough room to turn the tractor and mower on the headlands.
“Are you gonna start in the middle?” Ricky asked.
“Yep.” Brody drove down the center of the field, mowing straight paths back and forth, trying to keep the rows as close together as possible to save on fuel.
If Kat’s prediction of rain by the end of the week came true, the crop would need to be removed from the field before then to avoid mold contamination. Brody glanced at Ricky. The teen looked bored to death. “Keep track of the time it takes to cut one row.”
At the end of the row Ricky announced, “Three minutes.”
“Six minutes up and back. How many trips do you guess we’ll make before the field’s cut?”
Ricky stared out the windshield, eyes scanning the sea of hay in front of the tractor. “I don’t know. A hundred maybe.”
“Okay, how long will it take to cut the entire field?”
“I need something to write on.” Ricky rummaged through the cab until he found a pen and a piece of scrap paper. A few minutes later he pronounced, “It’s gonna take us ten hours.”
The dashboard clock read 9:00 a.m. which meant Brody would have to work in the dark to finish the field. “You’re pretty smart.”
“I know. My mom’s good at math and she helps me if I get stuck on the problems in my workbook.”
They drove in silence, Ricky keeping an eye on the mower in case it became clogged. “Hey, Brody?”
“Yeah?”
“You got a girlfriend?”
“Nope.”
“What are those girls called again that hang out at all the rodeos?”
“Buckle bunnies.” Brody had had his share of female attention since his divorce but he steered clear of entanglements. At the end of the evening, he left the bars alone.
“My dad said cowboys only rodeo ‘cause they wanna a buckle bunny for a girlfriend.”
“I reckon there are a few cowboys whose goal is to score with a hot buckle bunny.” A busted leg usually put an end to the poor sap’s career and love life.
“Is it true that most of them have long blond hair and big—” Ricky bounced his hands in front of his chest “—boobs?”
Talk about buckle bunnies abruptly ended when the front right tire hit a hole and the tractor pitched sideways, propelling Ricky into Brody’s side. Knocked off balance, Brody slammed his feet against the brake pedals. The sudden stop threw Ricky forward and he smacked his forehead against the windshield.
“You okay?” Brody put the tractor into Neutral and set the emergency brake, then crouched in front of Ricky, who sat in a daze on the floor. He shook the teen’s shoulders. “Say something, kid.”
“Ouch.” Ricky rubbed the red bump forming on his forehead. “What happened?”
“The tire hit a rut. Stay here.” Brody climbed down from the cab, unhitched the mower, then returned to the driver’s seat. “I’m taking you to your mom so she can look at that bump on your forehead.”
Before Brody left the field, he saw Kat’s pickup heading in their direction. “Never mind.” He shut down the tractor engine. “Your mom’s here.”
Heart beating faster than a construction worker’s jackhammer, Brody waited for Kat to park the pickup. As soon as she opened the door, he said, “You need to take Ricky to the doctor.”
“What happened?” Kat rushed to her son, who leaned against the front tractor tire, his face pale.
“I’m okay,” Ricky said. “Brody’s making a big deal out of nothing.”
“The tractor ran into a hole and jolted sideways. Ricky hit his head against the windshield.”
Kat swept her son’s hair off his forehead and studied the injury.
“A doctor should check him over and rule out a concussion.” Shoving his hands into his jean pockets, Brody paced.
“Honey, get in the pickup,” Kat said.
“Awe, man. This sucks.” Ricky did as he was told, slamming the truck door.
“Ricky’s fine, Brody. It’s just a bump.”
“He could be seriously hurt.”
Brody was practically a stranger yet he worried about Ricky’s well-being more than Dwayne ever had. “He’ll be fine.” Kat retrieved the cooler she’d brought and set it at Brody’s feet. “Drinks and food. If you get tired of mowing, I’ll take a turn at the wheel.” She handed him a walkie-talkie from her back pocket. “Hit the yellow button and I’ll know you’re ready for a break.”
Kat returned to the pickup, then sped off.
“Why’d Brody get so upset, Mom? My forehead doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
“He feels bad that you were injured.” Kat changed the subject. “I ran into Beth Hunter in town. She said you and Stevie are good friends and that you two hang out at Booger’s Bait Shop.” More silence. “Why are you sneaking off to Booger’s without telling me?”
“I didn’t say anything ‘cause you wouldn’t have let me go.”
Exasperated, she argued, “Booger’s is more than two miles away.”
“I take the shortcut through the shallow part of the stream.”
The stream Ricky referred to was located on the far side of the ranch. With Roger and Clyde threatening to stir up trouble, she didn’t want her son caught alone on the property. “You tell me if you want to go to Booger’s or visit Stevie and I’ll drive you.”
“You don’t care if Stevie and I hang out?”
“Not as long as you finish your chores and keep up with your homework. As a matter of fact Mrs. Hunter is dropping Stevie off at the ranch next Sunday for a riding lesson.”
“Really?”
Kat chuckled. “Really.”
“Cool, Mom, thanks.”
Ricky’s enthusiasm melted Kat’s heart. Her son’s smiles had been few and far between since he’d blamed her for Dwayne’s absence. She parked the truck in the ranch yard. “I could use your help in the barn.”
“Okay.”
No protest? “You sure you didn’t hit your head harder than you think?”
“Nah. I’m good.” Ricky got out of the pickup, took two steps, then fainted.
BRODY ALIGNED THE TRACTOR with the barn doors, then backed the machine into its proper spot and cut the engine. He closed his eyes, willing the tension to drain from his body. He’d been worried sick about Ricky since the accident. Kat had shown up shortly after supper time to relieve him, but he’d ignored her and mowed the entire field himself, thanks to a set of powerful headlights. Eager to see that the kid was okay, Brody walked straight to the foreman’s cabin. He thumped his fist twice against the door.
Kat greeted him with a smile. “I kept a plate warming in the oven for you.” She stepped aside. “I hope you don’t mind leftover Mexican casserole.”
“Where’s Ricky?” Brody asked.
“In his room.”
He followed Kat into the kitchen. “Did you take him to the doctor?”
“Actually the doctor stopped by the ranch.”
“He’s okay, right?”
“Ricky has a mild concussion.”
The blood drained from Brody’s head and he grabbed the edge of the countertop to steady himself. “Concussion?”
The pressure building inside Brody’s chest cut off the air to his lungs and he wheezed. “Why didn’t you mention his concussion when you stopped by the field earlier?”
“You waved me off before I had a chance to hop out of the truck.”
“I never meant for Ricky to get hurt.”
“Of course you didn’t.” Kat removed a foil-covered plate from the oven and set it on the table. “Iced tea?”
“Sure.”
She poured two glasses of tea and set them on the table, then pulled out a chair and sat. Brody ate, not tasting the food.
“I bumped into Clyde and Roger at the feed store today.”
“Doesn’t surprise me.” Brody suspected the disgruntled ranch hands hadn’t moved on.
Kat’s cell phone rang before he had an opportunity to ask if the two men had spouted any threats.
“Kat speaking.” Her shoulders stiffened. “Be right there.” She snapped the cell phone shut. “What’s wrong?”
“That was Wes.” Kat left the table and threw on a jacket. “There’s smoke coming from the hay field you just mowed.”
Smoke meant fire. Had Clyde and Roger spied on Brody today, then set fire to the hay while he’d driven the tractor to the barn? He shoved his chair back and stood.
“Finish your supper. I can handle this.” Kat shut the door in Brody’s face.
Damn it! He followed Kat outside. No way was she going out alone in the dark. Brody had slipped up today with Ricky, but he was determined to protect Kat from whatever danger awaited in the hay field.
Chapter Five
Brody slid onto the front seat of the truck and Kat stomped on the accelerator. She’d been embarrassingly naive to believe Clyde and Roger were all talk and no guts. Kat peeked at Brody and winced at his solemn expression.