Rough Rider (Hot Cowboy Nights, #2)(48)

He couldn’t afford to lose any more stock, but how the hell was he going to keep a pack of wolves away? He didn’t have any help and sure as hell couldn’t be a twenty-four-hour babysitter to a herd of cows. He seemed only to be running into obstacles at every damned turn!

“How many were you missing?” Wade asked.

“Seven,” Dirk hissed through his teeth.

“Well, then I guess this accounts for almost half of ’em.”

“Think the wolves got the lot of ’em?” Dirk asked.

“Not unless they took them last night,” Wade replied. “’Cause I swear I saw at least a half-dozen grazing up on the ridge. Maybe more.”

“Couldn’t have been more. The rest are all accounted for.” Dirk gave Wade a dark look. “And we wouldn’t have lost these if you hadn’t been so damned preoccupied with your prick.”

“Bullshit! This kill is at least two days old. Besides that, it would have been too dark to bring them down the mountain last night anyway. I’m not about to risk my life for a stupid cow.”

“That’s the difference between us. This cattle is my life. I spent the past three years cultivating this breed, and now I’m looking at over six grand in dead stock.” He slapped his hat on his thigh.

“How much can you reclaim from a wolf kill?”

“Hell, that’s nothing but a crock to begin with. Unless you can prove it was depredation by a wolf, they won’t pay a friggin’ nickel.” He dismounted. “C’mon. Wildlife Service has to investigate, so we’d better cover these carcasses and preserve what little we can of the crime scene—not that I’m holding my breath. Even if they do pay, it’ll only be a fraction of what I had invested.”

“Which begs the question—why do you still want to hold on to this? You know there’s no future in it. Private ranching is as dead as these cattle.”

“You’re wrong. There is still an opportunity, but it has to be the right cattle. In Vegas they’re getting three hundred bucks for a Kobe T-bone. There’s opportunity for those who can think outside the box, Wade. American Kobe is an emerging market.”

It was purely by chance that Dirk had come upon that answer. The night Grady’d won the World Bull Riding championships they’d celebrated at Vic and Anthony’s where Grady ordered the most expensive thing on the menu—a jaw-dropping three-hundred-dollar steak. Dirk had never even heard of Kobe beef before that night, but at thirty to fifty dollars an ounce, it didn’t take a mathematical genius to figure out where money could still be made in cattle.

“There are all kinds of restaurants and gourmet food chains looking for suppliers,” Dirk said. “It’s going to take off in a big way. I just need to be able to meet the demand.”

“You’re crazy, Dirk, and I’m done! I’m not putting another penny into this operation. It’s stupid to hang on. I finally had the ol’ man seeing reason—until you laid waste to everything,” Wade added bitterly. “Is that damned ego of yours worth giving him another coronary? He can’t do this anymore. You’re gonna kill him.”

“Then we’ll hire some help,” Dirk argued. “There’s plenty of hands looking for work.”

“And why is that?” Wade scoffed. “You just proved my point. Name me one private ranch that isn’t struggling just to survive.”

“You’ve made yourself crystal clear, that you want to bail out. That’s the difference between you and me. While you’d just walk away from four generations’ worth of blood, sweat, and tears, I’m willing to fight to keep it.”

“You’re an ungrateful *, you know that? It’s been my hard-earned money that’s paid the taxes and grazing leases to keep this place going—money that would have been better spent on a condo in Arizona where our folks could retire.”

“If that’s how you feel, I’ll buy you out. Whatever offer Fuck-Me-Pumps produces, I’ll match a third of it—your share. All you’ve ever cared about is money, anyway. You’ve got no loyalty, Wade.”

“Loyalty?” Wade snarled back. “You sure as hell are no judge on loyalty!”

“Back to that, are we?” Dirk’s jaw tightened along with his fists. He refused to swallow any more of Wade’s bullshit. “You got what you deserved, little brother.”

Wade speared him with a murderous look. “Is that what you really think?”

“Does it matter what I think? It’s what she thought and it’s what killed her. You killed her, Wade.”

“You goddamn son of a bi—” Wade reined in and pulled back a fist, but a ground-shaking sound of thunder halted him. “What the hell?”

“Holy shit!” Dirk echoed his cry as a band of madly galloping horses came barreling down the mountain toward them. In hot pursuit was a pack of half a dozen ravenous-looking gray wolves.

Dirk cocked his rifle, raised it, and took aim, but then held his fire at the last second. He could take down one or maybe two but then risked bringing the whole pack down on them if he missed, not to mention the litany of laws he’d be breaking if he shot any of them without a kill permit. As it turned out, the wolves were too preoccupied with their current prey to pay any attention to the two riders.