Читать книгу A Cowboy Returns - Kelli Ireland - Страница 12
ОглавлениеREAGAN PULLED UP in front of the southern corrals at the Covington place. Several trucks were parked at the bunkhouses, but she didn’t see Ty’s or Cade’s anywhere. She had expected she’d beat Ty to the Bar C, but she’d thought Cade would be around. As serious as things were likely to get, she couldn’t imagine the brothers would be too far out of pocket.
Grabbing the backpack she carried her paperwork and iPad in, she slid out of the truck. Brisket leaped down and trotted along beside her, eyes glued to her hands, as she strode toward the main bunkhouse. Chances were someone there would know where Cade had run off to.
“Can I help you?”
She stumbled to a stop. Numb, her hands hung at her sides. Her feet wouldn’t move no matter what she silently shouted at them.
“I asked if I could help you.”
She might have shaken her head. Could have been she was just shaking. She had no idea.
“Hey. I’m talking to you.”
That dark chocolate voice wound around her chest and tightened, and her heart suddenly didn’t have enough room to hammer so wildly. She wondered if it would break free of her ribs or just break. Are there even enough pieces left?
Brisket pressed up against her legs as he looked over his shoulder.
“That dog... Reagan?”
Steeling herself, hands fisting, she turned with incrementally small steps. “Yeah?”
“Why didn’t you answer me?” he asked, exasperation woven through the question.
She shrugged as she mentally reached for her pride. “I figured I’d weigh the odds of you assaulting me again if I turned around. But with Brisket out of the truck this time, I’m feeling lucky.”
He smiled slowly. “Feeling lucky, huh? I didn’t think married women were supposed to cop to that with another man.”
Ice lodged in her chest and her vision wavered through unexpected tears even as a fierce blush stole up her neck and across her cheeks. “Go to hell, Esquire. It’s right back the way you came, so you shouldn’t have trouble finding your way.”
The smile faded. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you earlier.”
His apology caught her off guard. Picking up her pack, she called Brisket to her as she started toward the bunkhouse again. “Stick with the insults. They go with the suit better than apologies.”
“I didn’t know you were married.” His irritation escalated with every word. “And stop calling me Esquire.”
She didn’t really want to be petty, fought not to smile. And lost. Pausing, she glanced over her shoulder. The smile morphed from snarky to humorless when their eyes met. “But it fits you so well. There’s the attorney thing, but there’s also the fact you’re out here—” she looked him over just as she had earlier, head to toe “—apparently rolling around in cow shit while wearing designer duds I bet were featured in your namesake’s magazine. Esquire, it is.”
“I don’t remember you being so bitter,” he said, absently brushing at his clothes.
“And I don’t remember you being so worried about how you looked or what people thought,” she volleyed.
Something wounded passed through his gaze. “Then you weren’t paying attention.”
The breeze shifted. Eli’s cologne carried across the air, teasing her with its rich, crisp scent. She drew a breath, intent on offering him a creative suggestion on what to do with his cuff links, but the words hung in her throat. Beneath the cologne was the familiar scent that was all him—midnight and dark promises and sensual heat.
She remembered the taste of his skin on her tongue, the half promise of heaven, half threat of heartache. The feel of his body wrapped around her. But the sound of his voice? That was all too real. It hadn’t changed, not with age and time or education. Not any more than the brutal, irrational desire she still harbored for him, desire she’d warred against so long...and lost every battle.
Uncomfortable with the way the conversation was devolving and scared he’d want to talk about the kiss, she faced him and put up her hands. “Enough, okay? Enough.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Fine. What are you doing out here?”
“I’m the Bar C’s vet.”
“And?” he asked, rolling his hand in a get-on-with-it gesture.
She hesitated. “If neither Cade nor Ty said anything about this, I’m not sure I should be discussing it with you.”
“I own one-third of this ranch, Reagan.”
“On paper, yes.” Shifting from foot to foot, she let her gaze wander, let it rest anywhere but on him. “But by operational standards, I believe you’d be considered an owner in absentia.”
“And how would you know the appropriate legal term?” His voice was lethally soft.
She finally met his gaze. “That’s between you and your brothers, Esquire.”
“So they called me home to officially shut me out?”
“If that’s what you think, what I said earlier about your intelligence in business is wrong. You’re dumb as dirt in that arena, as well,” she snapped. “How many ways do you have to hear that they need you, Eli, because I’m running out of ways to say it.” She sighed in the face of his silence. “Ty either called you home or he didn’t. He either asked for your help or he didn’t. But consider this, Eli. How often does a proud man go to his knees and plead for help from the one man least likely to give it?”
His visible flinch was followed by a wince as he touched his split lip. “Yeah, well, I don’t think Ty and Cade are seeing eye to eye on what they ‘need’ from me at the moment.”
Reagan stared at him long and hard, noting the split lip, the bruise beginning to blossom on one cheekbone, and the ripped buttons on his shirt. “Cade do that to you?”
Obviously watching her for a reaction, he blinked slowly. “What would you say if I told you I ran into Luke and he called me out on kissing you?”
Every ounce of blood left her face. Spots danced in her vision. She moved in slow motion, closing the distance between them and watching detachedly as her fist connected with his unbruised cheek. Observed his chin whip to the side with absolute indifference.
“What the hell!” Eli bit out, spitting fresh blood.
“You don’t talk about Luke. Never again.”
“I mention his name and you hit me?” The demand hung between them.
She met his angry stare, her own eyes flat. “Luke was killed three years ago.”
Eli’s mouth worked silently before he managed a gruff response. “Oh, shit. Reagan, I—” He reached for her, but she waved him off.
“Don’t.” She spun away and moved stiffly toward the nearest bunkhouse. Her voice hollow in her ears, she called back to him. “Tell Ty I’m taking a few men and heading out to pasture twenty-one.”
She battled against the urge to turn back to Eli, to lose herself in the comfort of his arms and the heat of his touch like she had all those years ago. The moment she’d recognized him in Tucumcari, she’d known with perverse certainty that nothing had changed. Eli had left her, broken her heart and left it an empty muscle, but his brand was still there, clear as day. She craved the sound of his voice, wanted his body against hers again and had the strongest...need to lose herself in him one more time.
But with Luke’s death hanging between them, it seemed as if it would be the ultimate betrayal of the man’s legacy. Luke had deserved better than she’d afforded him in life, and she hadn’t been able to give it. She’d damn sure try to do a better job after his death, no matter what her heart wanted.
* * *
EVERYTHING IN ELI had rebelled at Reagan’s admission. He crossed his arms tighter over his chest to hide its shaking and leaned against her truck.
She’d stared at him with that achingly familiar face, those stunning green eyes, her lean body backlit by the late-summer sunshine, and he’d realized she was as familiar as the landscape—and just as foreign.
Everything he believed about her had shifted when he’d discovered she was married. She’d stood up in front of God and everyone and committed her life. To someone else. But he’d said it himself—it had been fourteen years. Expecting her to wait when he’d given her no hope had been a kid’s dream. No more.
Yet, here he stood with every belief he had regarding Reagan changing all over again. He wanted to ask how Luke had died, but the words stalled deep in his chest. Death wasn’t so uncommon out here, but communities were small enough that losing one of their own was like losing a family member. And Luke had definitely been one of the community, their charmed favorite who’d never done anything wrong. Hell, he’d even got the girl.
Guilt swamped Eli at his disrespectful thoughts and he shoved off the truck.
“I’ve got to get my stuff inside,” he said to her retreating form. The urge to run, fast, hard, far, to push every physical limit he had, to go and go until he collapsed made his skin twitch and his muscles tighten even as his breath came shorter. He needed to get away from here. From her. He waited until he was sure his legs wouldn’t give out and then started for the house.
“Fair enough. I need to get the herds sorted as soon as possible. Tell Ty I’ll have the walkie-talkies.”
Eli stopped but couldn’t bring himself to face her. Instead, he focused on keeping his voice steady. “What’s going on, Dr. Matthews?”
Her breath might have hitched, but it could’ve been wishful thinking on his part.
She cleared her throat. “Ty really didn’t mention anything to you?”
“Apparently there are a lot of things Ty didn’t mention to me.”
He tipped his chin to his chest, ignoring the emotional hole rapidly unraveling in his chest. All of this—hurt, anger, regret...sweet heaven, the regret—was brought on by the simple sound of her voice, husky and made for whispers in the dark. “If it can wait, I’ll just get the news from him.” Cowardly, maybe, but too much had happened since he landed in Tucumcari, and he was pretty damn sure he’d reached his breaking point.
She hesitated. “I’m pretty sure it can’t wait.”
“That bad?”
“Yeah. I’m afraid it is.”
Closing his eyes, he gave her profile, just enough that she’d know she had his attention.
“Look, Eli, there’s not an easy way to say this. The Bar C is facing quarantine.”
Muscles across his shoulders tightened. “Pardon me?”
“You guys may have contracted Shipping Fever on a broad scale.”
“Shipping Fever?”
“Bovine Respiratory Disease—temp over 104, nasal discharge, dull eyes, diarrhea, stumbling about, muscle wasting. You’ve been gone more than a decade, Eli, but I’m sure you remember how the disease appears and what it can do to a ranch, or even a region, if it’s not contained.”
He blew out a hard breath, ignoring the barb. “How’d the Bar C herds come down with it? It’s the wrong time of year for Shipping Fever. All the stocker cattle should have arrived months ago.”
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “The ranch recently bought some new replacement heifers of its own. Then there are the late stockers taken on. With the drought and prices high as they are, the ranchers who do have grass can feed through the winter and demand premiums. It’s messed up the delivery schedules as stockers and feed yards vie for the best growing environment for their steers.” She chewed on her bottom lip for a second and then continued. “Everything that came onto the Bar C had health papers—I checked them all—but logic says the disease somehow originated in the new heifers. If it originated with Bar C’s stocker cattle, that’s one thing. If it’s because of the ranch’s new stock...”
She didn’t finish, but Eli didn’t need her to. If the Bar C’s own cattle had infected those they’d been contracted to put weight on through the year, the liability would destroy the ranch. The ranch would be quarantined. The cows that didn’t die wouldn’t do well this year. That meant low revenue. Worst-case scenario would be a huge die-off that would force the ranch to compensate the brokers and owners for the casualties. That would permanently shutter the Covington operation.
He gave a single nod. “I’ll tell Ty where you’ll be. Four-wheelers or horseback?”
“Horseback. I want to keep from spooking the herd any more than necessary. I’ll take one of Cade’s horses. We’ll trailer them as far as we can to save time, and we’ll ride on from there.”
Eli nodded and she walked away without another word.
He grabbed his travel bag and then took the porch steps two at a time. Pausing at the door, hand resting on the iron doorknob, he hesitated. Then he depressed the lever, the door swung in and nostalgia claimed him, reeling him across the threshold like the catch of the day.
The inside of the house still smelled like lumber, wood smoke and leather. Wide-planked floors were scuffed and marked by age and heavy use. His old man’s recliner still sat in the corner as if waiting on Max himself to pull up a seat at the end of the day. Curtains his mother had made still framed the window, threadbare with time. A pellet stove had replaced the archaic potbellied beast in the stone fireplace. Leather sofas and club chairs were scattered around the room in a haphazard way that announced “bachelor pad” as efficiently as did the abandoned boots near the door and the boxers on the coffee table.
Eli wove through the room and down the hallway to the stairs. Taking a deep breath, he opened the basement door. These he took one at a time. The air was cooler with a bite of dampness to it. He used to love it, especially in July’s heat. Breathing faster, he crossed the family room and stopped outside a familiar wooden door. Twice he reached for the handle only to stop. It was stupid, really. Nothing on the other side of the door changed anything about who he was now.
He traced his fingers over the rough-hewn pine door. How many nights had he spent in this basement? How many nights had he sworn that he’d find his way out of a life that had never fit him no matter how he twisted or stretched it as he tried to fill his old man’s expectations? How many times had he imagined how fulfilling it would be to make it on his own and force his dad to be proud of him? The answer was the same for every question: too many.
On a sigh, he shoved off the casing and stood. One silent twist of the doorknob and the door swung open without a sound. His past crashed into him. Shallow shelves held trophies from FFA and 4-H and high school sports. Laminated newspaper clippings were tacked to a small corkboard exactly as he’d left them. His bed was made. That was different. Looking closer, he realized the room was clean. No dust, no cobwebs, nothing out of place. He was suddenly nineteen all over again and awkward with it. All of the familiar, unwelcome insecurities were still there, waiting, still unresolved after all these years.
Crossing the threshold, his heart stopped. There, on his nightstand, was his favorite picture of his mother. She smiled out at him. Even though her dark hair had been burnished by sunlight in the picture, time had faded the effect. Still, he could remember the way she appeared. The love on her face still radiated from the photo, though. In spades. The years had passed, indifferent to his family’s grief at the loss of her, but not even time could change how much Eli’d loved her. Nothing could.
He traced the face in the photo and imagined he could still hear her puttering around upstairs. “I miss her, too.”
Eli dropped the picture and the glass frame shattered. “I—” He glanced at the picture and back to the door, where a large man filled the doorway. “Tyson?”
“I don’t remember her as well as you and Cade, but it was still hard to lose her.”
His youngest brother was now definitely not the littlest. He was a couple of inches taller than Eli’s own six feet two inches and clearly comfortable in his skin as he moved into the room. “Grown a bit since you last saw me.”
Backing up, Eli stepped on the broken glass and winced at the sound.
Tyson paused, his brows winging down. “What the hell happened to your face? You look like someone dragged your ass down the runway. You do know you’re supposed to stay inside the plane until it comes to a complete stop at the gate, right?” He snorted. “And here I figured you were the debonair, well-traveled brother.” Stepping across the small room, he wrapped Eli in a rib-cracking hug. “It’s so good to see you, man.”
Eli wasn’t sure what he’d expected from his little brother, but given the brutal reception he’d gotten from everyone else, it definitely wasn’t this.
He wanted to hug Ty back. He wanted to put distance between them. He wanted someone to shock his heart back into a normal rhythm.
Instead, for just a second, he reveled in a brother’s love.
* * *
REAGAN AND THREE of the ranch hands trailered their rides as far northeast as they could go on the Bar C. Unloading at the gate to the last pasture on the place, she tossed walkie-talkies to each man and left one in the truck in case Ty or Cade showed up and needed to contact them. Mounting one of Ty’s geldings, she adjusted her stirrups and checked her saddlebags. Everything was there, from medical supplies and antibiotics to a pistol for animals that were suffering and beyond help.
Coiling her rope and securing it to her saddle, she whistled for Brisket and headed for the gate. The dog slipped in close, trotting along to keep up.
The men followed in a tight group. Jake Peterson, the most seasoned of the men and another childhood friend of hers, moved up beside her. “How far out do you think the cows’ll be?”
She glanced at the midafternoon sun. “I’m hoping we find them in the front half of this pasture. If not, it’ll mean getting a chopper out here to push them toward us, and that’s not cost effective. It’ll also stress them out more than they already are. We’ll save it as a last resort.” Leaning forward, she tightened her saddle’s cinch without stopping her horse. “Regardless, we’ve got to do whatever it takes to get this contained, Jake.”
He settled his hat more firmly on his head and frowned. “This is going to be bad, Reagan, isn’t it?”
“Let’s not borrow trouble,” she said softly, eyes on the horizon.
“No need to borrow when the coffers are full.”
She snorted. “Aren’t you a bundle of joy today?”
“Just worried. Forgot my canteen. Be right back.” He wheeled his horse around and galloped off.
The soft voices of the other men around her and the methodical clop of horse hooves were almost carried away by the sound of the wind whispering through the grass. Being out here on horseback with nothing but the sky above her and the power and potential of one of Ty’s cutting horses beneath her proved spiritually cathartic. She hadn’t realized how much she’d truly needed the privacy to process the day’s events.
Never in a million years would she have suspected today would be the day she ended up facing off with Eli Covington. So much history. So much hurt. She had no idea how she was going to survive the next week or two as she did what she had to do, and he did the same. He’d want the estate probated as quickly as possible. That made sense. But if this was truly Shipping Fever, it was the worst case she’d ever heard about. She’d have to get the state vet involved.
Wanting more distance, she urged her horse into a swift lope. No doubt the men would catch up, but she’d have a few minutes to herself to just breathe. She never expected the tears that first caught up and then overran her.
Leaning over the saddle, she spurred the horse into a dead run. Ghosts of the past chased her across the plains, nipping at her heels. Their teeth had been finely honed on the sharp clarity of memories she’d once cherished and now resented. Every touch, every kiss, every promise they’d made—every promise they’d broken—it all rushed over her in a ruthless barrage of brilliant recollections. But the taste of him today... It had broken the fragile levee she’d finally managed to build to keep her feelings contained.
The wind whipped her hat off her head. She didn’t slow down. If anything, she urged her horse faster, then faster still. Giving him his head, she buried her face in his mane and just held on. A harsh sob escaped as years of blinding heartache flooded through her.
Hoofbeats thundered up behind her. Sitting up, she scrubbed one hand over her face and fought to catch her breath. No one would say anything, but there would be curiosity. And out here, curiosity led to speculation, which led to probabilities, which led to the birth of the most insane gossip. She didn’t want to suffer through it. Particularly not with Eli in town.
It had been bad enough when Luke had died. For months, all she’d heard were condolences. The sentiments had been heartfelt, yes. But they’d all been as empty to her as her bed had been at night. No casserole, phone call or sympathy card could take the place of the man who had loved her for five years. She’d learned to hear the words without listening, without assigning them value.
A broad hand reached for her reins.
Sitting deep in the saddle, she parked her feet in the stirrups and shut the horse down. Like the brilliant athlete he was, the horse sat on his hindquarters and slid to a hard stop. Barely winded, he righted himself and stood waiting, ready.
Ty spun his horse and trotted up to her, her hat in hand. He offered the Stetson without comment.
She accepted it, absently reshaping the brim.
“You were running as if the hounds of hell were hot on your heels.” Reaching out, he grabbed her wrist. “I checked. No hounds. What’s going on?”
Her smile was wobbly as she drew a deep breath and blew out hard enough to puff her cheeks. “I’m good.” When he arched a single brow, she nodded quickly. “Honest.”
“Don’t ever bullshit a bullshitter, Reagan. What happened?”
The noise that escaped was half laugh, half sob. “I thought, just once, I’d indulge myself and try to outrun a past I can’t seem to escape. That’s what happened.” Slapping her hat on her head, she realized the group was quickly catching up. She glared at Ty. “Not a word, Ty. Not to anyone.”
“You should probably know that I, uh...” He tugged at his collar and whipped his head to the side, popping his neck.
“Know what?” she asked with a snarl.
“That he brought me along.” Eli had stopped several feet away, his eyes hidden by reflective sunglasses. He’d changed into jeans and a pair of beat-up boots she recognized from years past. His shirt was clean but wrinkled.
“Great.” How much had he heard? Whatever it was, she couldn’t take it back. Instead, she stared at the very man she’d so wanted to avoid. “Been a while since you’ve sat a horse, Eli. Do your best not to fall off, would you? Earlier, it seemed you’d already taken the opportunity to roll around in shit. Once a day is our limit out here.”
Tyson barked out a laugh. “You rolled around in shit? Where was I?”
Eli never took his eyes off Reagan when he answered. “You missed Cade taking it upon himself to reintroduce me to his fists.”
Ty sobered instantly. “So you didn’t jump from the plane?”
“No.” He shook his head, his eyes still on her. “While I’m flattered you’re worried about my well-being, don’t bother. I can take what you dish out, Dr. Matthews.”
Ty sobered instantly. “That’s right. She said you knew about her marrying Luke and—”
“The marriage. Nothing more, Ty, and I insist it stay that way.” Reagan reined the horse to the side with a heavier hand than necessary. The animal protested by tossing his head and crow hopping. She settled him down and pointed him toward the northeast again. “Chances are, the herd has holed up out here where they can be sick and miserable without human intervention. I want to get to them as quickly as possible. Either keep up or go home, Esquire.”
“You’ve gotten bossy as hell,” Eli muttered.
“And you’ve got a great manicure. Your point?”
Ty bit his lip and nearly choked on his laughter.
“You always were a smart-ass.” Eli coiled his rope with a practiced ease that made her fight the familiarity of him. “Some things never change.”
Settling her hat tight, she forced herself to calm down or she’d transmit her tension to her mount. “True, but some things, and people, do. Don’t pretend to know who I am anymore, Eli.”
Clucking at the gelding, she slipped into an easy lope.
The sooner she got this job over with, the sooner she could get home and start piecing her life together again. But after Eli’s reappearance, it was going to take more than all of her life experience and surgical skill.
It was going to take a miracle.
