Cowboy Wolf Trouble

by Kait Ballenger

  “I come here to think sometimes,” Wes said as she sat down beside him. “For clarity. I think being out here in the woods gives me perspective on what really matters in life.” He looked toward her. That stare made her feel so raw, so naked. A familiar fear scratched at the back of her mind, unwelcome yet so entrenched there that she wasn’t sure how to overcome it.

  “It’s not ranching that I don’t like,” she confessed.

  The orange flames of the fire reflected back in the pale blue of his irises. With the way those eyes seared into her, the flames only seemed appropriate.

  “I love working the land,” she continued. “But my whole life—after my mother passed when I was little, at least—it’s just been me, my dad, and Jacob out there. My mother was pure Apsáalooke—Crow tribe, to a non-native like you. When I was younger, I had friends and extended family at the Nation, but you know how ranching is. It’s a nonstop job, from sunrise to sunset, and I’ve gone days—hell, weeks—without having any real human contact. Even though my ranch is on the borderlands, I go once a year to the Crow Fair. It’s a reunion where we honor our ancestors’ lives as Plains buffalo hunters and introduce the young ones to our cultural heritage. But connecting with my community once a year is hardly enough. With my dad gone and Jacob living his own life, other than the help we have, I feel so alone. I know there’s a possibility I could start a family of my own someday, but when does running the ranch ever leave me time to…?”

  To meet a man.

  A strong, attractive, and virile man. Like the one staring at her now, whose eyes bore through her with such intensity, it was staggering. She blushed and glanced down at her hands.

  “I don’t need a man to complete my life,” she elaborated, “but I…need a family, time to make friends, the financial resources to hire more hands, and more opportunities to connect with my people. Not the isolation of ranch living.”

  “If you had those things, would the ranch be enough for you?” he asked.

  She turned back toward the flames as a memory filled her mind’s eye. Playing with her brother near the edge of their property. He was pretending to be a cowboy with an old piece of rope they’d taken from the barn, and she was running. Running as fast as she could, scrambling over the edge of the fence, splinters pricking her hands as she raced toward the safety of the forest. Jacob was three years younger and never fast enough to catch her. Just as she reached the tree line, the sound of her mother’s red-apple-shaped dinner bell rang in the distance, and the spell was broken.

  Even as a child, Naomi had known and recognized a powerful force drawing her to the land, these hills. Some western sense of adventure passed on to her from her father. It had dissipated after his death, and it’d taken the extreme circumstances of the past few days to be rediscovered.

  “I think it would. I love these mountains. I can’t imagine calling anywhere else home, and I want to preserve the legacy my father built. I think my father knew that about me even before I did.” She turned back toward Wes. “That’s what I want.”

  “Then that’s something worth protecting, worth fighting for.” His eyes were his wolf’s again, staring back at her with that deep hunger.

  “What about you? Do you like what you’re doing here on the Grey Wolf ranch?”

  “I mainly tend the stables, take care of the horses, train them.” He turned away from her. “It keeps me sane.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  Slowly, he leaned back on his hands, propping up the weight of his torso behind him. “It’s the only thing my past allows.”

  She shook her head. “We all have a past.”

  “Mine is darker than most.”

  “It can’t be all that bad.”

  At that, he smirked. “We come from different worlds.”

  It was her turn to shrug. “Last time I checked, humans could be pretty evil. War, nuclear weapons, genocide. Ever heard of those things?”

  “Yeah, but when you’re a human and a murderer, they lock you up in jail. You become an outlaw to society. In our world, they call that alpha.”

  He watched her with narrowed eyes as if he could see the gears turning in her head through her gaze. She’d recognized him as an alpha, and now she knew what that meant. She could tell he meant for it to faze her, but it didn’t. The gold of his eyes flashed.

  She shook her head and smiled. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t you feed on humans?” she asked. “I mean, I know we just ate dinner and all, but I figured it was maybe like vampires.”

  He shook his head. “No. What would give you that idea?”

  She pointed with two fingers to her own eyes. “Your eyes seem to flash every time you stare at me. You look hungry when you look at me.”

  A slight growl rumbled in his chest. “That’s a different kind of hunger, Naomi.”

  Naomi. It was the first time he hadn’t called her that awful nickname. The way he said it melted her insides like butter. Heat flooded through her center and outward. His words stirred something deep and low in her belly. She felt that heat burn all the way up into her breasts, her cheeks.

  Wes tore his gaze away from hers. “We better get some sleep. I’ll take the couch, and you can have the bedroom. We’ll have a full day ahead of us come sunrise.”

  She nodded. As she stood and took one last look at him, a sharp pang hit her chest. She felt raw, vulnerable, open in a way she hadn’t since she’d mourned at her father’s hospital bedside. In the past hour, she’d been more honest with the man beside her than she remembered ever being with anyone, except for the man who’d raised her. Richard Evans had been honest and authentic almost to a fault, and she’d always returned that honesty. They’d had that special father-daughter bond she’d never been able to replicate with another family member.

  She thought about what her dad would have said to her in that moment. He would have told her to tell the whole truth, because as truthful as she’d been with Wes, there was one part she’d left out. Yes, she wanted to keep the ranch. She’d always wanted that, even though she’d questioned if the dream was her father’s or her own. But that vision of happiness on the ranch had changed in the past few days, beyond having a family and loved ones there to call her own. She’d always longed for a sense of adventure in her life, but she’d never before had a taste. Not until this.

  And now, in a few days’ time, when she returned to her ranch, that adventure would be gone for good as it rode off into the distance.

  Chapter 7

  “You a steady hand in herding cattle, Miss Kitty?” They were the first words Wes had spoken to her all morning.

  Other than a weak mornin’, he hadn’t said a thing to her. The moment she’d laid eyes on him as she’d emerged alone from the cabin bedroom, she’d realized that whatever honesty and openness had passed between them last night had dissipated. This morning, this was a man determined to keep his distance. She’d showered, changed into a fresh set of clothes he’d laid out for her (borrowed from one of his female packmates), and had been greeted afterward by the smell of fresh bacon and eggs sizzling in the kitchen. She’d been so consumed with chowing down on the contents of her plate with gusto that she’d somehow forgotten her manners and hadn’t thanked him for making her a delicious breakfast or made any attempt at polite conversation. She was too caught up in feeling far more “human” than she had in days.

  She swallowed the massive bite of eggs stuffed in her cheek with a strained gulp. “I’ve been herding cattle all my life, since I was old enough to ride horseback. I’m more than fair.”

  “Good.” He stabbed his fork into another bite of egg. “How about other livestock?”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

  He took a bite of his breakfast, chewed, and swallowed. �
�Well, I know better than to waste the skills of a perfectly good rancher, and I’ll need an extra pair of hands this morning. It’s past time I bring the wild horses into the chute and wean the colts. We had a couple of mares who were already bred when they arrived.”

  Naomi’s eyes widened. If she hadn’t already swallowed the bit of egg she was chewing, she might have choked on it. “The Grey Wolves managed to get a wild-horse contract? I thought you were mainly a cow-calf operation.”

  She had never met another rancher who’d managed to procure a wild-horse contract with the U.S. government. Typically, when droughts or a growing horse population got too large out west, the government would put a wild-horse contract up to bid for private ranches. In order to be awarded a contract, a ranch needed the ability to take care of at least five hundred wild horses, which meant they needed a helluva lot of land for the horses to roam and plenty of resources, particularly considering the hooved beasts were so rough on the landscape. Cow-calf operations were the main business in this part of beef country, and the bidding process for a wild-horse contract with the Bureau of Land Management was highly competitive. In addition to the amount of land necessary, the BLM required lengthy and exhaustive documentation, detailing a ranch’s management process for the horses.

  Wes shrugged, unfazed by her awe. “On our main ranch, we have cow-calf, yearlings, and now the wild horses, about 3,500 of them. I’ve headed up the project. Bid and negotiated the contract myself. The care and upkeep and managing the few hands that help with it is my pack responsibility. I talked Maverick into it. The contract may not earn as much per head as selling our calves in spring and fall, but it’s steady payout, low on overhead costs, and less labor than cattle. We’ve got plenty of mouths to feed here, so we needed to diversify our profits without tying up more money in inventory.”

  Naomi blinked several times, taking in the sight of him as if she were seeing him clearly for the first time. The man before her was far more than a handsome wolf and a valiant warrior who’d saved her life. Clearly, he also had a mind for the ranching business and the skills to back it up. And if last night was any indication, he was also an incredible listener, a fierce friend. There was clearly so much more to Wes Calhoun than met the eye…and damn if she didn’t want to see all of it, the good and the bad.

  “I’ve never worked with wild mustangs,” she finally managed when her initial awe started to subside.

  “You’ve met Black Jack, so you have some idea. They’re stubborn, ornery suckers. Black Jack’s an extreme case though. He takes attitude and makes it a virtue. I had to pull him out of the herd because he was too much of a stud with the mares, and the BLM doesn’t want even more colts they have to pay for, so I ended up purchasing him myself and breaking him. If you could call him broken.”

  Naomi grinned. She wouldn’t dare call Black Jack broken or trained. The horse did as he damn well pleased.

  “They’re different from cattle,” Wes continued. “They’re skittish, and the slightest provocation can send them into a frenzy. You can help herd them into the chute, but I can’t have you separating out the colts once they’re in the pen.”

  She frowned. “Why? Because I’m a woman?”

  He shook his head. “No. We Grey Wolves don’t take too kindly to having any of our”—he hesitated to find the right word—“guests participating in dangerous activities or having weapons.”

  “And by guest, you mean prisoner?” And to think she’d thought she’d come here of her own volition.

  He scowled. “Your words, not mine.” He crunched down on a slice of bacon.

  “What does it matter? I already have my…” She reached to her belt and realized that her Ka-Bar was missing again, and her shotgun had been lost in the melee as they’d escaped. Her eyes immediately fell in an accusatory glare on the wolf sitting across from her.

  He didn’t smile, but for a brief moment, she thought she saw a hint of amusement there.

  “I’m glad you think this is funny,” she snapped.

  “Did I laugh?” he challenged.

  “You didn’t need to. I can see the amusement in your eyes.” She’d yet to hear him laugh, and even with that smirking amusement twinkling in his eyes, she found she truly wanted to hear the sound. She watched him, gauging his reaction. He was different. The man she’d met in the Montana wilds was guarded here, edgy. Hell-bent on keeping her at arm’s length.

  He turned toward the stove, returning with the cast-iron skillet. “Here.” He piled more food on her plate. “Eat more. A strong wind could blow you over.” It was a clear attempt to avoid any playfulness between them.

  She didn’t protest. At least not verbally. If he wanted it that way, then fine. Two could play at that game, and she knew how to play dirty. She mulled over how to crack his ironclad facade as she half-heartedly pushed her food around her plate.

  Following breakfast, they rode the ATV back down the mountainside and through the heart of Wolf Pack Run. Despite her initial impression, it was less a development of homes and more a self-contained village that extended for several miles. As she watched the homes and buildings bustling with activity speed by from the back of the off-road vehicle, she noted with increasing interest a plethora of men, women, and families with young children, all so seemingly human in appearance that if she didn’t know better, she never would have known the difference. There were even a few she thought looked familiar from the Crow Fair.

  But her pleasant observation came to a halt at the same moment the ATV suddenly did. She’d thought they were headed straight for the isolation of the stables, but they had stopped outside what appeared to be some sort of warrior training field. This early in the morning, the training field was mostly empty, save for the nearby racks of weapons, and a few females watching off to the side. The field remained bare, except for the two battling wolves in the middle of it.

  A man equal in size to Wes stood on the battlefield, barking orders at a she-wolf wielding a broadsword against him. Though their swords clashed, his sharp grey eyes watched her like a hawk, assessing her every move like a military commander.

  “You can do better than that, Sierra. Push yourself,” he demanded.

  Anger and frustration filled the woman’s face as she fought the male alpha wolf with vigor anew, pushing herself even harder than she’d been. Both of them were an impressive sight to behold.

  “Colt,” Wes bellowed.

  The grey-eyed wolf’s gaze lifted to where Wes and Naomi sat on the ATV.

  In response, the female let out a resounding roar, throwing a kick into her commander’s shield, causing him to stumble backward.

  He scowled as he regained his footing.

  She smiled wickedly. “If we’d been on the battlefield, I would have slaughtered you.”

  The wolf named Colt growled. “If we’d been on the battlefield, I wouldn’t have taken my eyes off you,” he said to his opponent. Stabbing his sword into the ground, he made his way off the field toward Wes and Naomi.

  “I’ll be right back,” Wes said. “I need to see if Colt will lend us a hand rounding up the horses.” He climbed off the ATV and met the other man halfway, their conversation descending into heated whispers as soon as they reached each other.

  In the distance, Naomi watched as the she-wolf warrior exited the field. One of the other women handed her a water bottle that she promptly chugged. Her face was covered in a sheen of sweat. As she lowered the water bottle, her eyes caught Naomi’s. The other females followed her gaze.

  Oh no. The moment made Naomi harken back to every horrible run-in she’d had with cheerleaders in high school. They might as well have been a pack of rabid she-wolves, considering the way they’d treated her. As the actual she-wolves made their way toward Naomi, she stiffened, thankful Wes was close by and the keys were still in the running ATV. When the pack of women reached her, the one the commander had called Sierra ste
pped forward.

  “You know your way around a broadsword?” she asked, her eyes darting down to the weapon in her hand.

  Naomi’s blood ran cold, although the question seemed to be more inquisitive than challenging. “No,” she murmured.

  “You certainly know how to use a knife,” Sierra replied. “At least if what I heard about you taking Malcolm down in the mess hall is true.”

  Naomi raised both hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean any offense by it, I swear.”

  Sierra turned her head to the side as if she were confused. “Offense? I would have given anything to see that bastard land flat on his ass.” The smile she gave Naomi was genuine and warm, so much so that Naomi released a hesitant breath.

  “Oh, thank goodness. I thought you all were about to throttle me for it.”

  The group of women chuckled, not with mean intent but with friendly welcome at the confusion.

  “Not at all,” a second one chimed in.

  “Someone needs to teach these alpha males what’s what,” a third said.

  “That’s what we’re out here for,” Sierra added.

  “Sierra,” Colt called.

  He and Wes had finished their conversation, and Wes was headed back toward them.

  “And here comes the one who needs the biggest kick in the pants of all,” Sierra muttered to Naomi.

  “Except maybe for Maverick,” another remarked.

  Sierra scowled at the mention of the packmaster’s name before she turned to head back toward the training field. As she and the other she-wolves moved away, she cast a glance over her shoulder. “I hope you stick around, Naomi Evans. We could use some more females like you here.” The sentiment was echoed on the other women’s faces.

  “Thanks,” Naomi said. Wes climbed onto the ATV, and as they sped off toward the stables, she cast one last smile at her warm welcomers. Naomi had the distinct impression that given time, she could easily befriend these women, werewolves or otherwise.