Cowboy Wolf Trouble

by Kait Ballenger

  The Grey Wolf stables were truly a sight to be seen. This early in the morning with the sun barely peeking over the horizon, the massive complex bustled with male and female stable hands eager to get their work done. A cacophony of neighs and whinnies echoed throughout the space, and the smell of hay and freshly mucked stalls filled Naomi’s nose as they entered. A few of the hands shot them curious glances as they entered but seemed to decide to keep to themselves after seeing Wes’s face. He was all business, focused on the day’s work like any true cowboy.

  After Wes spent a brief moment showing her around, he allowed Naomi to take her pick from several horses. She chose a palomino mare by the name of Star, who, according to Wes, had been the horse of a wolf named Bo, the Grey Wolf second-in-command who had been killed several months earlier. The way Naomi figured it, a horse who’d lost its rider probably needed the attention and the workout. As she saddled Star, getting acquainted with the gentle mare, Wes busied himself with attempting to wrangle a saddle onto a pissed-off Black Jack.

  As Naomi led Star out of her pen, her eyes fell on a shadowy figure standing backlit in the open stable doorway. As he stepped forward, she recognized him as the wolf from the training field Wes had called Colt. Colt’s dark figure drew farther into the stable, and she noted the generous width of his shoulders and the limbs lined with muscle. These guys were seriously gorgeous.

  If Colt’s massive size wasn’t enough to intimidate, the hawk-like nature of his stare beneath the rim of his black Stetson hat was. She wasn’t sure why, but she had the distinct impression that nothing got past this particular wolf. Some of her brother’s friends from the Marines had returned home with a similarly intense gaze.

  Wes emerged, leading Black Jack by the reins. Apparently, he’d won the battle. Though from the look in the horse’s eyes, there was no telling how long the minor victory would last.

  Wes gestured back and forth between Naomi and Colt. “Naomi, this is Colt Cavanaugh, high commander of the Grey Wolf armies. When it comes to horses, he’s the best at Wolf Pack Run, aside from myself. He’s also one of the only wolves around here brave enough to give me a hard time.”

  “Put you in your place is more like it,” Colt shot toward Wes. His tone was serious, but his eyes were full of mirth.

  Naomi’s eyes grew wide. She was still stuck on the “high commander of the Grey Wolf armies” part.

  Colt extended a massive hand, and Naomi offered her own. His grip was strong and firm as they shook, yet surprisingly, not overbearing. It seemed calculated somehow, as though every move he made was strategic and carefully planned.

  “Colt,” she said, her voice more of an intimidated squeak than she’d intended. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Like a young horse. An appropriate name for a cowboy.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Naomi.” The high commander flashed her an easy grin. “You’re all anybody on this ranch is talking about.” The smile lit his face and changed it from hardened warrior to cowboy with rugged charm in seconds. It was the kind of white-toothed grin that could make the right woman weak in the knees.

  Oh man, he was dangerous. Had she not been so enamored with the wolf standing beside him, her heart might have beat a little faster.

  She glanced at the two men. Come to think of it, something about him reminded her of Wes. The shape of their eyes and the distinct way they creased at the edges when they smiled was near identical. She chalked it up to nothing more than shared wolf DNA.

  Wes quickly launched into instructions. They’d be culling from roughly three hundred of the wild horses off one of the smaller herds, then corralling them into the chute to separate out the still-nursing colts. Colt would take one of the Grey Wolves’ Rhino vehicles while Naomi and Wes rode horseback on Black Jack and Star, leading Colt’s horse, Silver, along with them. According to Wes, though the mustangs were still truly as wild as possible, as the government and BLM intended, they’d been housed on the open plains of the ranch long enough to come running for food at the sound of a vehicle’s horn, especially now as the weather grew colder each day, leaving the grass and foliage to dwindle and Wes to supply their food to keep them healthy.

  Sticking with their plan, they rode out into the Grey Wolf pastures, following Colt in the SUV. When Wes signaled, Colt pulled the vehicle to a stop and laid on the horn. The loud, sharp beep rang throughout the hills. After a minute or more of the racket, Naomi covered her ears with her hands. This went on for several minutes until Naomi spotted the first horse off in the distance. The number multiplied as the herd rounded the hill toward the mountainside, barreling straight toward them. A sea of wild mustangs revealed themselves. The pounding of the large animals’ hooves thudded against the ground in a display of raw power and strength.

  Wes maneuvered Black Jack toward her, his satisfied smirk peeking out from beneath the brim of his Stetson. Naomi recognized it as the smile of a man who took pride and joy in working with his hands. Her father and Jacob got that same look when they worked the land.

  “Showtime.” Wes grinned before he kicked Black Jack into a gallop, heading straight toward the herd.

  Naomi and Colt followed. The three worked together to move the herd eastward toward the chute. Naomi quickly learned what Wes had meant about herding cattle being vastly different from herding mustangs. For the first hour or so, it seemed every movement she made sent the skittish yet aggressive animals careening in the wrong direction. In due time, she found her footing, pulling her weight of the corral work as easily as the two wolves beside her.

  It was past noon when they’d finally managed to corral the horses into the chute, and Naomi was thankful for the extra breakfast Wes had urged her to eat. Shortly thereafter, Sierra showed up in one of the Grey Wolf pickup trucks, delivering them a basket of lunch, though she made certain to tell Colt—who, from what Naomi gathered during the conversation, was Sierra’s older brother—not to think she’d make a habit of it. She made it clear her sole interest was Naomi.

  The foursome shared the picnic lunch of pimento cheese sandwiches and a few Budweisers. As Naomi and Sierra made friendly conversation with the occasional interjection from Colt about everything from life at Wolf Pack Run to their favorite kinds of wine and their mutual love of B-rated romantic comedy movies, Wes remained quiet, distant, and seemingly caught up in thoughts of his work.

  When they’d finished eating, Naomi leaned back onto the picnic blanket Sierra had brought and passed what remained of their break enjoying the playful sibling banter between Colt and Sierra that reminded her so much of her and Jacob. It had turned out to be a pleasant morning and a fine start to the afternoon. She found that the warmth and sense of belonging she felt among the ragtag crew made her heart a little tender. She never felt this way on her own ranch. Though she was friendly with the ranch hands, it was mostly just her out there, working alone. She didn’t miss the silence.

  When lunch was finished, Sierra made her departure. But not before she roped Naomi into a near-rib-crunching bear hug and whispered that she hoped Wes didn’t scare her away, so Naomi would decide to stay at Wolf Pack Run. Naomi didn’t get the chance to tell her that wasn’t even in the realm of possibility before the female left without another word but with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye.

  From the position of the sun, it was roughly three o’clock when Wes and Colt made their way into the chute. Once in the pens, Naomi stood near the chute and watched as the two cowboys sorted the horses down the alley. The mares and colts went into a pen on the right and the stallions into a pen on the left. One by one, Colt, who rode Silver, peeled the young horses off from the herd of mares. Meanwhile, Wes stood at the end of the alley, directly in the line of fire, prepared to swing the gate open or closed depending on whether a mare or a colt was running at him.

  Watching the two men was mesmerizing. Each movement was careful, deliberate, calm, like well-practiced and incredibly courageous choreo
graphy. One wrong move, and any one of the horses they worked with could go off the deep end. Naomi had been on the wrong end of a horse bite a time or two, and it wasn’t a pretty thing. That didn’t even begin to cover the damage the beasts could do with the strength and weight of their muscled bodies if they decided to plow a man over. The mustangs were nothing like the calm, predictable cattle she was used to.

  As she watched, her respect for Wes grew deeper by the moment. He’d not only saved her life and connected with her at the cabin, but he was tough, strong, brave, valiant, and seemingly afraid of nothing. He didn’t even tense when the angry mares barreled down the alley toward him. When they’d finished, Naomi found herself more than a little enamored and amenable to the idea of being alone with him again.

  Wes exited the shoot with Colt and Silver in tow, thanking Colt for his help. Colt tipped his hat to Naomi. “You’re a good hand at herding,” he said.

  She grinned at the compliment. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  He and Silver started to head off. “Oh, Naomi?” Colt paused, several feet away from her, eyeing her from atop Silver. “Don’t let the smooth cowboy side fool you.”

  She raised a brow. For a moment, she thought he was talking about Wes. “Yeah?” she asked.

  Colt’s award-winning smile disappeared, replaced by the look of a hardened warrior. It changed his whole demeanor within seconds to befit his title as Grey Wolf high commander. “It’s Colt like the gun, not the horse,” he said.

  The words were enough to send a chill down her spine though she knew he was only riling her. Wes waved Colt away with a side comment about the commander being too big for his britches before joining Naomi. Resting his hands on his slender hips, he ducked his head low beneath his Stetson to shield his eyes from the afternoon sun. “So what do you think?” He nodded toward the pen still full of the now-sorted mares and colts.

  She smiled. “You want the honest truth?”

  He nodded. “Nothing less.”

  She released a long-held breath. “It’s amazing, and I’m totally jealous. I enjoy working with cattle, but that’s not nearly as much fun as these horses. What an adventure.” She stared at the massive herd, her voice tinged with a hint of longing.

  Wes’s eyes never left her, observing her in that careful way that made her feel naked. “There’s something else you’re not saying.”

  Barely forty-eight hours with the man, and it was as if he saw right through her. She dug deep inside herself, trying to find the right words to be open with her emotions in the way they’d shared in the cabin. It was something she’d never had with anyone since her father’s death, and though she was eager to get back to that place with Wes, she wasn’t used to the vulnerability of it. “It’s just…” Her voice hitched. “I know I’ll never have anything on my ranch like what you have here with Colt, Sierra, your pack. Even the close-knit community at the Nation is not like this. I guess I’m just tired of being alone.”

  He didn’t shy away from her pain. Instead, he leaned in, the blazing in his eyes searing her straight to her core. It was as if his gaze said everything her heart longed to hear.

  I know what that’s like, and you’re not alone.

  She stepped toward him, eager to draw close, but he must have sensed her growing desire, because he turned away at the last moment.

  He leaned onto the iron bars of the chute. “So you like the wild horses, huh?”

  She nodded, trying not to be hurt by his clear attempts to keep her at a distance. He’d mentioned that their pack law forbade humans and wolves from mating, but somehow, the way he pushed her away despite the fire in his eyes made her think there was another reason aside from the pack law. He hardly seemed like the type to follow the rules.

  “Yes, watching them run… It’s a beautiful, exhilarating sight,” she answered.

  Wes grinned, smiling at her from beneath his Stetson in a way that made her ache with need. “Oh, Miss Kitty, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  * * *

  “Stand back. Once one notices the gate is open and comes running, it’ll be a stampede,” he instructed. Wes stood at the chute gate, the cold iron latch clutched in his hand. With the young colts separated off their mothers to wean, he needed to release the mares back out into the open landscape. It was quite a sight to behold, wild mustangs running to the freedom of the Montana mountainside as they were meant to. It was one thing to see them galloping toward food, but witnessing them run with wild abandon toward their freedom was a whole different matter, and he intended to let Naomi enjoy it to its fullest.

  “You ready?” he called.

  Naomi stood several feet back from the gate, out of the line of sight. She smiled. The orange shade of the setting sun cast a warm glow across her ebony hair and lit up the brown tones of her skin. He’d been trying to keep her at arm’s length all day. He’d worked not to notice how mesmerizing her look of concentration was as they’d worked, tried not to note what a hard worker and admirable cowgirl she was. So far, he was failing miserably.

  “Ready,” she called back. She bounced on the balls of her feet in anticipation.

  Wes hit the latch and swung the gate wide. The release of the latch signaled the mares like the firing of a shot. A sea of mustangs shot forth from the chute, galloping out into the landscape. Wes turned and watched with appreciation.

  It was a breathtaking sight.

  And he didn’t mean the horses. He couldn’t stop the grin curling at his lips as he watched Naomi. Her gorgeous features were lit with enthusiasm and awe at the beautiful sight of the herd of wild horses galloping across the mountainside, their long manes billowing in the cold autumn wind.

  “Do you see this? Wow!” she called out to him, her face wreathed with a smile.

  Normally, he would agree with her. Even having worked with the horses for the better part of a year, he still thought they were an amazing sight. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to partake of her joy. Instead, he stood at a distance, watching her with eager, hungry eyes like a starving man. Somehow, it felt as if he stood on the outside looking in, there but not truly present.

  Never in the way he wanted to be.

  It’d taken everything in him not to draw her into his arms last night as they’d sat beside the fireplace. He practiced the same restraint now. He wanted to kiss her with everything he was worth. But he couldn’t. If his lips touched hers again, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. She’d end up laid out beneath him, with him claiming her in every way, and he couldn’t allow that.

  She was a human. In her arms, he was nothing but destruction.

  But damn, if the way she’d bared her soul to him, told him her heart’s desires and her deepest pains, didn’t make him want so much more than the careful, calculated distance he’d placed between them. He wanted to open himself to her, to cast aside his shame and take off the mask he’d worn for so long that it felt as it were suffocating him. He longed for it in a way he was certain he’d never longed for anything in his life. It made him feel as if there were a growing, empty hole inside his chest. In this moment, watching her genuine smile lit by the afternoon sun, he felt that pain and longing so acutely that he struggled to breathe.

  But he couldn’t give in, despite how it pained him, because if he did, she’d see him for what he truly was. A violent man. A monster. A murderer.

  No, he’d keep his distance, painful and torturous as it might be.

  Better to let the pain consume him than to allow it to destroy an innocent woman like her.

  Chapter 8

  They rode back to the stables in companionable silence. When they arrived, they set about doing minor tasks in the now-empty building. The hands had long since headed in for the day. Naomi’s body ached from the labor of a hard day’s work, but still she pushed forward. She was well aware when she’d finally reached her limit.

  “I need a
break for a minute.” Propping the shovel she’d been using against a nearby wall, she wandered outside.

  In the distance, the sun was beginning to set. She stood for a long time, taking in the view as the sun painted the sky pale shades of tangerine and gold across the backdrop of blue mountain peaks and oncoming rain clouds.

  A sudden interruption came in the form of a garbled mew. Somewhere close by, it sounded as if there was an injured feline, maybe even a cat that was dying. She followed the sound to an overturned bucket nearby, slowly lifting the edge. At first glance, she hardly would have called the yowling ball of fur that sprang forth a cat, but it hissed and spit just the same. A large, overweight tortoiseshell cat, orange and black in its distinctive markings, stared up at her from the mountain dirt.

  Despite its hefty weight for an outdoor farm cat, its bones stuck out in odd places, and it had a hint of grey fur about its face, showing its increased age, which likely accounted for the fact that it could no longer be called cute…at least not exactly. Okay, maybe not at all. Though she supposed there was a hint of interesting sass in the feline’s face.

  Grateful for the distraction, Naomi scooped her reluctant snuggle buddy into her arms, petting and cooing at the feline as she made her way back to the stable.

  When she stepped inside, still cradling the large mewling kitty, Wes was holding open Black Jack’s pen, allowing the massive horse to exit his stall. Glancing up, Wes froze at the sight of her. Instantly, Naomi froze, too. She recognized the narrowed glare in his eyes. It was the same look he’d given her in the clearing. The one that said loud and clear…

  …We’re not alone.

  * * *

  “Don’t move.” He uttered the words with every bit of urgency he could impart as he glared at the intruder in their midst.

  Naomi’s eyes widened in alarm. “Please don’t tell me there’s a wolf behind me,” she said breathlessly.

  “No.” His gaze fell to the gnarled monstrosity in her arms. “It’s worse than that.”