Rough Rider (Hot Cowboy Nights, #2)(49)

Dirk lowered his rifle with a head shake. “They’ve been having some wolf troubles down in Paradise Valley for a good while, and I’d heard there were a few who’d ventured farther north, but I hadn’t seen any around these parts. Now a whole friggin’ pack of ’em? How the hell am I going to protect my stock?”

“Guess you’d better bring in Wildlife Services,” Wade said. “They’ll probably just trap and collar them, but maybe you can convince them to relocate the pack.”

“Yeah, that’s real likely,” Dirk snorted.

“What about those horses?” Wade asked.

“Hell if I know. I have enough on my hands without worrying about a herd of mustangs. Maybe if I’m lucky, they’ll keep the wolves away from my cattle.”





Chapter 12


Janice pulled into the drive of the Flying K just as a silver Lexus SUV pulled out. Recognizing the driver as Wade Knowlton, she waved, but he returned only a perfunctory nod. Based on the cloud of dust and flying gravel he’d left in his wake, he was in a big hurry. She hoped it didn’t bode trouble.

She continued slowly up the half-mile-long drive to the Knowlton homestead. She’d been there dozens of times in the past when friends and neighbors all pitched in to help one another with sorting, roping, and branding. Not to mention castrating the calves. With an operation as large as the Knowlton’s, it had taken a crew of twenty hands all day. It was hard and dirty work, but she’d enjoyed every minute of it. She loved the feel of a stiff rope in her hand and the challenge of roping cattle and missed it sorely.

Although the hours were long and the pay meager—even compared to waitressing—ranch work was what she’d hoped to find when she’d come back home. But she’d quickly discovered that jobs were scarce. Even though she was a more than capable hand, being female didn’t help her chances when there were so many good cowboys out of work.

She parked her faithful red Dodge dually, the same truck she’d hauled stock with ten years ago, between the old white F-150 and a new Cadillac Escalade. She stepped down, shut the door, and then froze in her tracks. The Colorado plate and Majestic Ranch Brokers sign on the Cadillac door confirmed the worst. There was only one person who would be driving a car like that in Madison County—the same person who’d brokered the sale of her family’s place.

Were the Knowltons selling out too? A giant knot lodged in her throat at the very thought. She couldn’t imagine the Ruby Valley without them. They’d been in Twin Bridges for four generations, as far back as the gold rush that forged the town. But by the look of things, the Flying K suffered as much as everyone else. That was not to say it appeared neglected—just too quiet. Almost deserted. There was always something to do on a working ranch—horses to shoe, fences to mend, machinery to repair—yet Janice found no one around when she’d pulled up between the house and the main barn.

Realizing she’d come at a bad time, Janice debated knocking on the door and paying the briefest possible call, or just driving quietly away. She nixed that idea. If anyone had noticed her arrival, it would look really rude to drive off. She was still deliberating when an earsplitting crash sounded from the barn, followed by the crack of splintering wood. Apparently the place wasn’t deserted after all.

She heard it a second time and her pulse quickened. Was an animal loose? Had a horse got itself cast? She hustled toward the barn to check it out, sliding the metal door on its track and advancing inside. Her eyes were still adjusting to the darkness of the barn after the brightness of the afternoon sun, when a tall figure emerged from the tack room. He stepped toward her, or maybe it was more like a lurch and her heart almost stopped beating.

Even in the dim light with his hat tipped low, she knew it was Dirk. She’d come purposely to see him, but now face-to-face she felt like a deer in the headlights, poised for flight, but with feet rooted to the sawdust-covered ground.

“What the f*ck do you want?” he growled, rubbing his fist.

His aggressive, almost unrecognizable tone told her everything she needed to know—coming out here was a mistake. A horrible, horrible mistake.

“I—I heard a noise,” she stammered. “I thought an animal might be in trouble. I’m sorry I intruded. So sorry.” With shaking hands and unsteady legs, Janice backed toward the door. Shoving it open, she strode briskly and blindly into the late afternoon sun, her only thought to get inside her truck before she broke down and started bawling.

“Janice?” Dirk’s voice, low and gravely, called after her. “Holy shit! Is that you?”

She didn’t turn around or even slow her pace, but he was on her in seconds. His powerful hands gripped her shoulders, whirling her around to face him. Their eyes met for the first time, his widening in shock. They were still icy blue and just as mesmerizing as she remembered. The effect they had on her hadn’t changed either, but other things had. Though his hat was pulled low to throw his face in shadow, she could discern the scars that marred his handsome face—a long strip of angry red and pitted flesh that mismatched the surrounding skin—a graft. It made her heart ache for him.

“Red? Hell, I’m sorry for snarling at you like that. I thought you were someone else…”

“Who?” Janice choked out through her thick throat.

“Allie Evans.” He released her arm and stepped back, shaking his head. “If I’d had any idea…I’m sorry, Red. I still can’t believe it’s you.”