Behind us a truck starts up and tires screech, sending dust billowing toward us. Dakota blinks against it, and I can taste its chalkiness.
“Boss?” Josh asks, coming closer, the other cowboys around him. “What’s going on?”
The name surprises me, taking hold of something in me. At the rate I’m going, I’ll never be the cowboys’ boss, even if it’s the thing I want most in the world.
I rub a hand over my face. I’m suddenly really tired, and Dakota is still staring at me like she can’t process what just happened.
“Get in there,” I say to Josh, inclining my head to Cowboy House. “Sit with Troy. That fucker got a needle in him. Make sure he’s okay.” The guys sidestep me, Warner, and Wyatt. Every one of them tries damned hard not to look at Dakota as they pass her.
“Josh,” I call out, and he turns back to me. “Call me when Troy comes out of it.”
I’m not looking forward to that conversation.
Dakota walks closer. Her boots are dirty, and her hair has fallen out of her bun, cascading over her shoulders in soft, messy waves.
She comes to a stop in front of me, her eyes searching. I wish I knew what she was thinking.
“Dakota, these are my brothers, Warner and Wyatt.”
Warner steps forward first, shaking her hand, and then Wyatt.
“Dakota is the land developer Dad and I are working with,” I explain.
“Is that all?” Wyatt eyes me meaningfully. “You sure didn’t like when Dixon looked at her.”
“Shut up, Wyatt. He touched her too, for the record.”
Wyatt shakes his head, his eyes full of regret. I understand. Wyatt was friends with Dixon when they were little kids, back when Dixon’s dad was an HCC cowboy. That was before my dad caught him stealing and fired him. I didn’t keep tabs on what happened to the family after that, but from what I’ve picked up over the years it sounds like one bad choice led to another, until it was too much to come back from. Still, a tough upbringing doesn’t excuse the choice to peddle drugs around town. Funny thing is, as tough as my dad may be, he believes in second chances. Dixon’s dad refused to apologize or take ownership of what he’d done, but if he had he would've probably saved his family all the heartache.
Wyatt and Warner say goodbye and walk back to the house, leaving me and Dakota and the world’s most awkward silence.
“So, uh… I’ll come by tomorrow morning and show you my plans, if that’s okay?” Dakota asks. “I’m certain tonight will yield plenty of ideas.” She sidesteps me and goes toward her car.
“Sounds good. See you in the morning,” I say, watching her walk away.
She gets in her car and drives off, the cloud of dust marking her progress until she reaches the paved road.
Pulling my phone from the pocket of my jeans, I pull up Jericho’s number and hit the send button.
“Sell the land to Dakota Wright,” I instruct when Jericho answers.
“Two other firms have offered more than your asking price, Wes, sight unseen,” Jericho informs me smugly, like she’s been hiding an ace in one of those stupid high heels she wears and couldn’t wait to wield it against Dakota.
“You heard me,” I nearly bark. “And I’ll be the one to tell her,” I add, then hang up. I don’t have time for Jericho’s jealous behavior toward Dakota.
This has already been the most tiring fucking day in a long time and it’s only halfway over. The cowboys are watching Troy, my family’s busy doing the hundreds of things owning a ranch necessitates they do, and even though I should go inside and help out, I’m too keyed up.
I know what I need. I turn on my heel and head for the stable. My horse, Ranger, whinnies when he sees me. He’s a chestnut-colored purebred Appaloosa stallion, and I got him the day I came back to this ranch after the Army. My first horse, Shogun, died while I was overseas.
“Let’s go for a ride, boy,” I tell him, taking my saddle down from the rack and fitting it over him. I run my hand over his white starburst facial marking and he nods his approval.
We set off, no destination in mind. Ranger always helps me think. The rhythm of the ride, whether it’s a cantor or a trot, makes life seem a little clearer. It takes the big things and makes them small again. It reaches into the center of my chest where sometimes it’s hard to breathe and makes space.
It helps me forget my final deployment, and the two people I couldn’t save.
10
Dakota
