Holly Jolly Cowboy (The Wyoming Cowboy #7)(35)

“Carson—”

She shook her head. “Carson wants you to get better. He’s handling things and he said if he needs more help, Caleb from the Swinging C offered to come by.”

He knew Caleb. He was the only guy in town as quiet as Carson was. Maybe it was something with C names. Who knew. He let Holly fuss over him for a bit longer, then lay down for another nap. When he woke up, she was there with fresh soup, a bottle of water, and his medicine. Her hair was in its customary ponytail and he knew she was heading in to work. Did the woman ever stop? he wondered. Probably not. She’d probably break into a hundred pieces if she did.

The next day, he was feeling more like himself. He was able to get up and do some of the chores in the barn, though Carson handled most of the workload. Holly’s hovering was less intense, though she kept him in hot soup and warm bread. The day after, he felt like himself again.

Which was a good thing, because Carson had a bomb to drop on him.

“What do you mean, you’re leaving tonight?” Adam asked, frowning as he picked mud out of his horse’s shoes. Winter was a miserable time. The snow was pretty, but cold, and when it melted, it left muddy sludge everywhere. He was constantly cleaning it off the horses’ legs, their hooves, off his own boots, and he had to rotate the cattle to a different pasture when the mud got too churned up and thick around the natural watering hole. Today, they were moving them to a closer pasture with metal troughs because the weather was supposed to be unpleasant over the weekend. If the snow was thick, there was no sense in traipsing all over the hills to try to look after the cattle, not when it was just the two of them.

Carson had a mulish look on his face. He shrugged, flipping a toothpick between his teeth. “Mean what I said.”

“I thought you weren’t supposed to leave until right before Christmas. That’s still almost two weeks away.” Not that he couldn’t handle it; it was just . . . not what they’d planned.

Carson just gave him a cold look. “Am I ruining your Christmas shopping?”

Adam snorted, picking out a big chunk of mud from Eisenhower’s hoof while the horse stood patiently. “No. I ain’t doing anything for the holidays and you know it. It’s just . . . not great.” What could he say? That he wouldn’t have anyone to talk to for the next three weeks and it’d be lonely? The only person that would be around was Holly, and she was gone most days until practically midnight.

Not that he wanted to spend time with her, of course. Nemesis and all.

“You can handle it,” was all Carson said.

“Of course I can handle it,” Adam blustered. “Does Jason know?”

“Jason’s fine with it. Talked to him while you were sick.”

He had? Why was Adam just now hearing about this? Fighting back a surge of irritation, he set the horse’s hoof down and moved to the other side carefully, making sure Eisenhower knew where he was at all times. He tapped the foreleg and the horse obediently raised the new hoof for cleaning. “So you’re just going to head off on Christmas holidays early?”

“Yeah.”

Adam rolled his eyes. “Well, enjoy yourself, then. I can handle it here.”

Carson crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the stable door. “We’ll check the outlying pastures later today, make sure the fences are good. Told the Swinging C I was heading out. They know you might need help.”

He snorted. “I won’t need help.”

“You sound pissed.”

“I’m not pissed.” Of course, when he said it like that, it did sound kinda pissed. He couldn’t win. “I’m really not. Just kinda surprised is all. The work’s fine.” He pried a large clump of mud out of the horse’s hoof. “Just goes by a lot faster when there’s someone else to talk to.” He patted Eisenhower’s leg again and the horse set it down. “That’s all.”

Carson grunted. They were both silent for a long moment, and then the older cowboy spoke again. “My daughter’s getting induced early. Preeclampsia. She’s in the hospital right now.”

Adam felt like an ass. “Shit, man. I didn’t know.” Hell, he hadn’t even known that the man had a daughter, much less that his daughter was pregnant. “Of course you have to head out. Ignore my bitching. Family comes first.”

Carson just nodded. “I’m catching a midnight flight.” He eyed Adam. “You gonna be all right here alone with Holly?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Be nice to her.”

Now he was starting to get irritated. “I am nice to her.”

Carson just grunted.

Did that grunt mean that he didn’t believe Adam? Or did it mean something else? Holly could stand up for herself. He was pretty sure that if she thought he was being mean that she wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to take care of him when he was sick. Even as he thought about it, though, he wondered. Did she just consider that part of her duties since she’d been hired to look after them? She had introduced herself as his enemy to the receptionist, after all. Maybe she still considered them to be . . . at odds with one another.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, either, which was strange. Why did the thought of them being foes bother him? Was it the cake he’d sabotaged? Or how kind she’d been while he was sick? Or something else?