Cowboy Dragon

by Terry Bolryder

  “I… How was I supposed to know? How did he get in here anyways?” She frowned up at him, pursing her lips. “And why’s his name Gary?”

  “Dallas caught him a couple years back. Named him there on the spot, and he’s been getting into every corner of this ranch that isn’t literally built like a vault.”

  “More like getting into trouble.” Harrison walked to the door and set Gary down. “Scram, you.”

  With another hiss, Gary scurried away into the darkness, and Clancy and Beck shared a laugh as they left the two of them alone.

  The more they were together like this, the more Harrison worried they were going to get into trouble.

  The kind of trouble that resulted in sleepless nights and cries of pleasure, not fear.

  He lingered in the doorway.

  “I know the damn difference between a snake and a raccoon, I’ll have you know,” she said petulantly.

  “Yeah, well, the difference is life and death out here. I suggest you try to get some rest in the meantime. I’m not going to go easy on you just because you’re a woman.”

  Her hazel eyes scowled at him, and he grinned back.

  Better to be hated or feared than to risk getting involved.

  But as he closed the door and locked it behind him, Harrison was already thinking of plans to move her into the main house if needed. After all, what better way to keep an eye on her than keeping the woman close at hand?

  7

  The next day, Marian was jolted awake from her deep, restful sleep by the roar of farm machinery and masculine voices calling out to each other. A minute later, Harrison practically blew the house down with his knocking on the door, and she was awake and in the main house in minutes, not wanting to keep everyone waiting.

  For the first time in a long time, she’d slept like a baby, dreaming of peaceful meadows while she watched huge, winged shadows fly above her in the sky.

  After a hearty breakfast put together by Beck and Reno, Harrison gave everyone directions for what they were going to do for the day, and she was given orders to join Clancy and Beck in putting up a new fence along the north pasture. When she asked what that entailed, Harrison just grinned and said, “You’ll see.”

  An hour later, their tractor pulling a trailer loaded with fencing supplies stopped out in the middle of an open field bordering another fence that ran east to west, and Beck and Clancy hopped off and started unloading things.

  “So what happens next?” she asked, pulling her ponytail through the back of a beat-up Cowboys baseball hat she’d had for years. Above, the Texas sun blazed like a hot ball of glory, though thankfully a cool spring breeze blew through the field as the scent of wildflowers and green grass filled her senses.

  Far off, she could see a group of cattle grazing lazily, ignoring their business entirely.

  “We build a fence. That’s what happens,” Beck said gruffly.

  “You ever raised a fence, darlin’?” Clancy asked with a gleam in his eye. Today, he was just wearing a clean white shirt with a silver chain around his neck, showing off bronzed skin.

  “No. What happened with all the fancy western gear you were wearing yesterday?”

  Clancy walked to the trailer and pulled a strand of steel wire wrapped with sharp metal points at even intervals. “Barbed wire. Tamed the west with this stuff. Hurts like a bitch and even worse for your clothes. No point wasting good leather for a job like this.”

  “Where’s Harrison today?” The image of a stray barb catching the bossy, know-it-all cowboy’s shirt and ripping it down the middle wasn’t getting her a little bit excited. Not at all.

  “He’s got head to count and calves to check on and—”

  “Guy’s always busy with sumthin’,” Beck growled, grabbing a steel post and the heavy, two-handed post pounder from the trailer. He walked to a spot of ground, rammed the post halfway down into the earth with one hand, then put it at exactly five feet high with a single shove of the pounder on its head.

  “Let me try,” Marian said, eager to prove her worth. She grabbed a post and tried to stick in in too, but the hard earth didn’t budge at all. So Beck held the post for her as she placed the pounder on top, then hit it as hard as she could.

  The post moved half an inch.

  “The lady’s a natural. At this rate, our fence will be done by… next year I s’pose.” Beck chuckled as he looked down at her with gray eyes. She hit the head of the post again and again, but after a few minutes, she was left huffing for breath, and the post was only halfway down into the ground.

  How did these guys make it look so damn easy?

  “Pretty woman such as yourself could be doing a whole lotta things other than fence-layin’.” Clancy took the pounder from her before she made a fool of herself trying to keep up. “Here, just drive the tractor alongside us and keep us company while we work.”

  “I can do that. Except the driving the tractor part.”

  He helped her up into the bouncy, rounded seat. “Nothing to it. Just hold the clutch right there and turn the key the start the engine. Then undo the brake and use the stick to bring it into first. Last, let the clutch out nice and easy.” He pointed as he spoke, showing her what to do.

  She tried her hardest, but with a sputter, the engine died as she released the clutch at her foot.

  “Like I said, nice n’ easy. Handle it like you would a lady. Whisper some sweet nothings, get her engine going slow at first when you turn that key. Then bring up the heat smoothly until she’s roaring to life right beneath your hands.”

  “Do you treat all the women you meet like tractors?”

  “Is Clancy comparing women to farm machines again?” Beck called out. He’d already put in a dozen more posts just in the time it was taking her to figure out this old metal beast.

  “It’s just a metaphor, dammit,” Clancy yelled back. “You got this, nice and slow.”

  On her second try, the machine turned on just fine, but then it died again when shifting it from neutral to first.

  On her third try, she got it.

  “Perfect. Purring like a kitten.” Clancy smoothed a hand over the snub-nosed engine. “You’re already a natural. Now just roll it forward, and I’ll tell you if you’re going too fast.”

  “And if I’m going too slow?”

  “Beck’ll bellow some obscenities at ya.”

  As if on cue, Beck appeared at the tailer, grabbing a handful of posts and raising an eyebrow at her. But for all his gruffness and swearing, there was definitely more to him than he let on.

  More to all of these guys, really.

  The hours flew by as they told her about the ranch and about raising cattle. What jobs happened at what time of year and how to manage a large herd with so few hands. In the meantime, they asked her questions about her life. What work she’d done before coming here. What places in Texas she’d visited and which were her favorites.

  Definitely the Alamo. You could almost feel the courage of its defenders calling forward through time. Her father had taken her once, and she’d never forgotten the trip.

  By the time they stopped for lunch, the sun was far overhead, and she could barely see where they’d started off in the distance.

  “So how long has Harrison been running this place?” she asked, munching a sandwich that Beck handed her with a grunt.

  “Hm. A long time now.” Clancy looked away at the horizon as he answered.

  “How could that be? You all are pretty young to me, nothing like the grizzled cowpokes my old man hung out with when I was a kid.”

  Beck and Clancy shared an odd look. “Yeah, I guess so. Time just goes slower out here, so it feels longer than it’s been.” Clancy spoke first.

  “Even slower whenever you’re running your damn mouth,” Beck said through a mouthful of sandwich.

  “What about you? You know a lot about ranching but haven’t actually done any. What’s your story?”

  She sighed, not sure what was too personal at this point when
these men were already starting to feel like family to her. “My momma died in childbirth. I never met her.”

  “Sorry to hear that. That’s a rough start for anyone,” Clancy said. Beck just listened intently.

  “My pa tried to raise me by himself, but he was torn between trying to be a single parent and earn enough money to keep us on our feet. After a while, it was too much, and I moved to Houston to live with my great aunt while he took full-time work.”

  “What was she like?”

  “Kind, but tired. She didn’t have a lot left in her, and I felt bad just taking up her energy as a kid. She always said I was never a burden, but you know how it is when people say one thing but they feel the other. So I just tried to stay out of everyone’s way.”

  Both men nodded.

  “Anyway, she got sick right when I turned eighteen, and she had to move in with her only daughter. They didn’t have room for me, and I wasn’t going to be someone else’s baggage anymore, so I moved out and got a place of my own. For a few years, Dad would send me whatever extra he had to help me stay on my feet, but ranching had worn him down to the bone. He died a few years later, just leaving me with his legacy and nothing else.” She let out a pent-up breath. “So here we are now.”

  Beck coughed, beating a fist to his chest and wiping something from his eye as he turned away from them.

  “I’ve heard a lot of tales out here on the range, and that has to be one of the saddest, sweetest stories I’ve ever heard.” Clancy patted her on the back. “You’ve done good for yourself.”

  “Not so well that I didn’t have to drag myself out here on nothing but a wing and a prayer that Harrison would let me stay.”

  “Well, he said yes, and now you’re one of us. I guess fate works in mysterious ways, don’t it?” By the time Clancy finished, Beck was facing them again, eyes a little redder than they’d been a minute ago.

  Only temporarily, she thought.

  Then sapphire-blue eyes flashed in her mind, watching her intensely, and Marian had to shake her head just to get the unbidden image unglued from her brain.

  Maybe Clancy was right. Maybe things happened for a reason after all.

  As cowboys went, these five weren’t half bad at all.

  “Let’s finish lunch. Then we’ll start running wires along these posts.” Clancy thankfully pulled her mind from thoughts of the past and obsessions with a certain frustrating man, clearing the air as he got up. “Mind telling us more about your adventures with Freddie the Ford Thunderbird as we go?”

  “I wanna hear about that call center job. Customer service? What the fuck does that even mean?” And though Beck tried to sound gruff, there was an eagerness to the edge of his voice that belied his surliness in that moment.

  But even as she told them things as they continued to work, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there were secrets about this place.

  Secrets hidden amongst these thousands of acres of wild land, and secrets held by these five mysterious, enigmatic men that drove fence posts with one swipe and talked about the Wild West like they’d lived in it.

  8

  The end of the first week came like the stop at the end of a rollercoaster. When Marian had heard from Reno that they were heading to a bar in town Saturday night, she’d practically upended every corner of her belongings trying to look just right for the evening.

  Though definitely not ideal, she’d put on her best curve-hugging jeans with a red shirt that emphasized her cleavage and little black boots she saved for special occasions. She’d curled her hair, and it fell in loose waves over her shoulder as she checked herself out in the mirror and wondered if there were any guys in town worth checking out.

  Definitely not cowboys. Definitely not a certain blue-eyed cowboy with a gleam in his eye and a protective streak a mile wide.

  A short drive later, in Harrison’s truck where no words were exchanged, they were walking into Seb’s Saloon in the tiny town of Anderson’s Ridge.

  Harrison led the way in, and the smell of old wood and fresh beer hit her like a freight train. The noise of dozens of customers bustling and talking inside was almost foreign to her in contrast to all the quiet and peace back on the ranch.

  “Why isn’t Dallas coming?” she asked as Harrison held the door for her.

  “I need someone to watch the ranch while we’re out. Also, he hates people, remember?”

  She wasn’t so sure that Dallas hated everyone, though the quiet man had yet to say more than two words to her the whole week.

  But between moving hay, fixing fences, tending to the horses and other livestock, and even being shown a few things about fixing cars as the men worked on her old Thunderbird, Marian could feel a strong bond of friendship between each of them. Whether it was Clancy’s wild stories as he played harmonica beside the campfire at the end of the day, Beck’s home cooking and gruff kindness, Reno’s playful attitude, or Dallas’s silent watchfulness, she felt treated like an equal amongst them.

  Well, all except for one of them. One of them had definitely been avoiding her all week. One that was constantly watching her from across the campfire, a chin as stubborn as the mountains and heat in his eyes more dangerous than flame.

  And as that same man looked down at her while waiting for her to go inside the bar, the question as to why still eluded Marian.

  With a flip of her hair, she strode in with all the boldness she could muster.

  The others were already inside, and she could spot them by their sheer height and size. Clancy was sitting in a booth by the corner, surrounded by five bleached blondes all cooing over his every word. He was dressed to the nines, and though she’d seen his good side out on the range, she had zero interest in players like that. To her left, Beck and Reno were engaged in a drinking match that, from the looks of it, Reno was quickly losing.

  She looked over her shoulder, and suddenly, Harrison was gone. Where the hell had he disappeared to?

  But she wasn’t going to be bothered by that. After all, she hadn’t gotten ready for him. She was here to get a drink, relax, and try to unwind after a long, stressful week.

  She went up to the bar and ordered a beer, taking a few swigs before getting a lay of the land. Aside from the tables where they served drinks and snacks, there were a few poker tables in the back where men were huddled around their cards. And on the side wall, a small dance floor where an old, neon jukebox sat idly.

  Emboldened slightly by the alcohol, she made her way across the floor, ignoring the gazes of other men as she rummaged for a coin to put into the music machine. A moment later, it buzzed as it began to play the track she’d chosen, an old country hit with a fun beat she could bob her head to.

  The tune came on steady and loud, filling the bar as others started to cheer or sing along. The classic sound of the glass guitar slide and a southern voice talking of hard times and fast friends filled her heart with memories, both good and bad at the same time.

  She might hate cowboys, but she did love Texas, from its cities to its gorgeous plains.

  She downed the rest of the drink, hoping to hold back the oncoming emotions. But after a week of finally feeling like she belonged somewhere, that she had some semblance of a family, it was like the dam she’d used to keep her feelings from getting in the way of her survival had sprung a leak somewhere out on the plains of the Dragonclaw Ranch.

  And for Pete’s sake, why were country songs always so freakin’ sad?

  She wiped a small bead of wetness from her eye, trying to not ruin her makeup. But as the song continued, it conjured unbidden thoughts of her pa, wearing his beat-up Stetson and regaling her with tales of life as a wrangler when she was young. Once upon a time, she’d even had dreams of being a cowgirl herself. Of living in the pure freedom only land and air could give.

  But now, it was just another harsh reminder of why she’d avoided cowboys. Of the men that had left her alone in the dirt over the years.

  “Hey, lady, care for a dance?” An unfamili
ar male voice spoke from behind her, trying to hide the slur of alcohol.

  She sniffled, keeping her back turned to them. “Sorry, not quite in the mood right now.”

  “Just one dance couldn’t hurt, could it?” Another spoke.

  She turned and saw three men, all of average height and build and handsomeness. They reminded her of her exes, cowpokes with egos the size of steers but no real mettle to back it up.

  “No thank you.”

  “C’mon, just have some fun with us.” The first reached forward and grabbed her by the wrist clumsily, and she pulled away and let her hand fly forward, slapping him across the face.

  “I said no.” But apparently, the word wasn’t in these bastards’ vocabulary, and she watched as the man she’d slapped rubbed his face, dull eyes glaring at her with hatred.

  He advanced on her. “Why you little… I’ll just have to teach you some mann—”

  There was a crack as suddenly a much taller, much wider, much angrier body appeared in front of her, his fist slamming into the cattleman’s face with such force it seemed to rattle the tables around them. The drunk loudmouth flew backward into a pair of empty tables, upending them as he collapsed onto the ground.

  Harrison growled, literally growled, and the other two guys raised their hands and immediately backed away to tend to their bloodied friend.

  “A gentle reminder to all present that we respect women’s wishes here.” Harrison glared imperiously as all eyes in the bar gaped up at the two of them. He still had his arm cocked back, as if keeping a second punch loaded just in case someone dared to challenge his utter dominance. “Anyone who has a problem with that can answer to me.”

  She watched in stunned surprise as the onlookers cheered, raising their glasses in assent while the song continued to drone on from the jukebox behind her.

  Marian felt confused and a little overwhelmed. Harrison just made no sense. He was always distant from her, but the second another man approached, he always seemed to fly out of nowhere, saving the day and snarling like a lion among sheep.