Whip ran a hand through his hair. “Man, that’s a lot of school and training. How did you decide to do it?”
Rawley smiled. “My great-grandfather was an agent. He died when I was around twelve, but I still remember his stories, camping out trying to catch rustlers, nights under the stars, the pride he had in protecting ranchers. I knew early on that’s what I wanted to be, and I also own a ranch.”
“A big ranch?” Whip’s eyes widened.
“Five hundred acres,” Rawley said. “My grandfather left it to me fifteen years ago, my mother didn’t want the responsibility, so it came to me. I’d only been an agent for five years at the time, and I didn’t want to give that up. But I wanted the ranch, too.”
“I don’t know how you juggle it all.” Whip shook his head in amazement.
Rawley shrugged. “I’ve got great ranch hands and an excellent manager. I handle cases during the week and work at the ranch on weekends when I’m free.”
“I’m eighteen,” Whip said. “I’m really interested in what you do. I haven’t given much thought to what I want to do, but I do like working on the ranch. Mr. Mitchell is a nice man. I just started for him two weeks ago, though.”
“Preston’s a good man. If you want, come by the office sometime,” Rawley offered. “I’ll give you some materials on how to get started.”
“I appreciate that,” Whip said, a hopeful smile brightening his face.
Rawley pulled up to the barn as the sun set high in the sky, painting it blue with white puffy clouds. He shut off the engine, stepped onto the gravel, and slid open the barn’s heavy door. Inside, the scent of hay and livestock greeted him. He spottedPreston Mitchell striding across the stalls, boots thudding against the floor.
“Don’t shoot the messenger,” Rawley called, a playful edge to his tone. Preston stopped mid-stride, chuckled, and extended his hand.
“Hell, Rawley, you took the wind out of my sails,” Preston said as they shook. His eyes still flickered with the eagerness of a man ready to argue. “I was all set to jump on you.”
Rawley grinned. “I didn’t steal your cattle,” he said, “but I’ll do everything I can to find out who did.”
Preston sighed. “I know. I’m just pissed about it. Last time I lost cattle was a few years back from wolves. I get that part covered, and now I have to deal with rustlers.”
“I get it. I’ll do what I can. You know how it goes. I collected casts, and some other things, so once I get back to the office, I’ll get to work on it.”
“Alright. Keep in touch.” Preston shook his hand again, then strode from the barn.
Rawley looked at Whip. “Thanks for going up there with me.”
“Sure thing. I will come in and talk with you one day.” Whip put his hand out and Rawley shook it.
“Alright. Have a good day.” He strode from the barn, climbed into his truck, then drove back to the office.
****
As she stared at the blank document, Skylar clapped her hands and rubbed them together.
“Okay, here we go. New book, new characters, hot sex, love…” She frowned. “Why aren’t you talking to me? I can make or break you. You both better get on the ball.”
“Alright.” She placed her fingers over the keyboard, typed, then sat back and read what she had typed; Chapter One.
Placing her hands over her face, she blew out a breath, then dropped her hands to the desk.
“I need help.” She picked up her phone and called her best friend, Ryan.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“I need to get out. I’m starting a new book, and I am not motivated. I need to find my muse,” she said.
Usually when Skylar had trouble creating an image of a cowboy the readers wanted, she’d go out, walk along the sidewalks, go shopping, just hoping to see a man she could use as a muse, and Ryan knew her routine.
“So, what do you want to do? Shopping? Cruising a bar?”
“Hey, didn’t you tell me about a bar in town?” She frowned as she tried to remember the name of it.
