Chapter 3
Cord puthis truck in park amid the swirling dry dust at Hope Ranch and drew in a deep breath. He allowed himself a small smile, almost subconsciously rubbing the painful knots punching through his thigh. Maybe he should’ve taken a couple of breaks on his journey, gotten out and walked to stretch the raw muscles, but he’d been too eager to get started. This was his chance to prove himself, prove he was still worthy of being in theteam.
He carefully opened the door and eased out of the truck, putting weight on his good foot first. His boot crunched into the mix of pea gravel and dirt. A lone dried out tumbleweed picked up in the wind and scooted across the front yard, sending up fresh puffs of dirt flying in his face. His smile grew. This was where a man came to be a man. Alone. Getting by with tough work and his strength of will. There wouldn’t be a cripple or an emotional female for a hundredmiles.
Riding on the high of anticipation, he barely felt that first agonizing stretch of muscle as he straightened fully and put his prosthetic leg on the ground. Cord bent over inside the cab, hefted out the carrying case containing his sniper rifle and made his way to a young man scrubbing the rusted metal fence to his right. “Looking for SamBishop.”
The guy turned so Cord could just barely make out his profile. Scraggly, dirty beard. Watchful, untrusting eyes. Slight tug down at the lips. “Whatfor?”
Bastard sounded as mean as he looked.Good.
“Got business. I work for Fury Security, and Sam Bishop hired us to sort somethingout.”
Straggly beard turned fully then, giving Cord his first full look at the man’s face. A patchwork of painful, plastic-looking scars stretched from his hairline down into his shirt collar. His hand, poking out from the blue jean jacket, boasted the same scars. “Sam didn’t say nothing about hiringsecurity.”
“Need to talk to himanyway.”
Cowboy dropped the metal brush into an equally rusty bucket near his feet. “I told Sam we could handleit.”
Cord shrugged. “Guess he disagreed. Can you tell me where to find him ornot?”
The cowboy gave Cord a funny look, one he couldn’t quite figureout.
“Look, man, I’m here to do a job. That’s it. Soon as I’m done, I’m gone, but I’m not leaving ’til I talk to the owner of HopeRanch.”
Cowboy bristled and crowded in a step. “We don’t need security. I’ve got ithandled.”
“Thad, quit intimidating thenewbie.”
Cord craned his head around to see a young, dark-haired guy poking his head through the half-open window to the right of the ranch house’s frontdoor.
“Sam went and hired a bodyguard,” Thad yelled back and then spat in thedirt.
“I know,” the guy yelledback.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me, Ryder? I told Sam we don’t need anyone else tohelp!”
Deciding Ryder was the safer bet, Cord headed in the direction of the house. “I’m Cord Carter, with Fury Security. Can you tell me where to find SamBishop?”
Gravel crunched in quick bursts behind him, signaling Thad was jogging to catchup.
“Sure thing. Sam’s out back, in the barn. Just poke your head in.” Ryder waved him on and Cord hooked a right, ignoring the pissed-off ranch hand behind him. Whatever hero complex the man struggled with wouldn’t be solvedtoday.
“Now just holdon.”
“Thad, get back to the fence. We need that rust off to start painting tomorrow,” Ryderinterrupted.
Thad swore and Cord tensed, readying himself for whatever came next. He’d sized Thad up immediately. The guy had a huge chip on his shoulder, and was obviously looking to mark histerritory.
“Why don’t you stick to cleaning house and leave the real work to the men?” Thad bit out, but he followed orders and went back to thefence.
Ryder paled and disappeared back into the house before Cord could thankhim.
Cord headed in the direction of the tall barn behind the low-slung ranch house, steps measured as he slowly worked the circulation back into his limbs. He’d been surprised by how hard it was to learn to walk on a prosthetic, but he hadn’t satisfied himself with walking—he’d pushed himself to run. And while he still couldn’t pivot like he could with his real leg, he had a feeling he could out run and out lift every single man he was likely to come up against. Besides, he didn’t need a leg to set up in a sniper hole and take out theenemy.
Cord rounded the ranch house, spotting a white-haired man smoking a pipe and wearing big Smith overalls, propped up on a rocking chair that looked as old as he was…which was sayingsomething.
“Howdy,” the old man called out to him from the backporch.
