Page 10 of The Wrangler and the Tenderfoot

He considered, then said, “You want someone to guide you through the land. Why?”

I thought about lying, but it seemed both a waste and a challenge. “I’m supposed to survey the east pasture, for a start, but the maps are shit, the GPS doesn’t work three-fourths of the time, and nobody at the ranch will show me the line. They said I was on my own.”

He waited, then said, “You got lost?”

“Briefly. Not enough to panic, but enough to know I could get screwed out there really easily.”

He nodded. “Jupiter’s a good horse, but she won’t get you out of real trouble. You can’t always trust a horse to just go home.”

“I figured.”

The pie came, and we both dug in. He didn’t ask why I wanted help, and I didn’t offer.

I asked, “What’s your price?”

His face was stone, but his eyes were warm, which made it worse. “Depends. You looking for a bodyguard, a tracker, or a distraction?”

I wanted to laugh, but the seriousness in his voice kept it in check. “Maybe a little of all three?”

He set his fork down, then said, “I’ll do it. But if the Colemans make any trouble about me helping you on their land, I’m not starting a turf war. I’ll just go home.”

I took a bite of the pie. Damn, it was good. “That’s fair. I’ll make sure they know it’s not optional if it becomes a problem.” I considered him and almost told him my real name, but decided it was better to stay safe. “Cardin, by the way,” I said. “My last name is Cardin. In case you were wondering.”

He held my gaze a beat longer than necessary. “Good to know, Jennie Cardin.” He finished his coffee, then said, “Tomorrow. Nine a.m. Meet me at the line. I’ll text the coordinates.”

“Done,” I said.

We ate in silence for a while. It was less awkward than it should have been.

When I finished my coffee, I looked at him. “Why are you helping me?”

He shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure. Maybe because you don’t scare easy, which I like. And you’re not an asshole.”

I thought that over, then nodded. “Okay.”

He paid the bill and left a tip, then got up and walked out without looking back. I sat there for a few minutes, finishing my pie, then thanked Marge on my way out.

The sun was gone, but the sky still held a band of bruised orange along the ridge. I got in the truck and watched the empty highway for a minute before starting the engine.

I was in it now, and there was no way out but through.

Chapter 4: Reid

They'd started trickling in twenty minutes ago, wandering from the bunkhouse, some still buttoning their shirts, others already stripped down to shorts. No one spoke.

Midge Maddox, matriarch, queen of hard stares and stiffer whiskey, stood on the porch steps, smoking a cigarillo and watching. Counting heads, even from this distance. It was her turn to stay home with Noah. They’d worked out a rotation after last summer. The first time we’d left Noah home alone, we’d come back to find a total stranger passed out in the barn. She’d ended up staying and was now married to Calder and about to shift and run with us, but Noah didn’t get left at home alone anymore. Period. Tonight it was Midge’s turn. She raised the cigarillo in salute when she caught me looking. I nodded back.

The others had made a loose line at the edge of the barn's shadow. Ash was first, fidgety and wild, always closest to the exit. Gray hung back, hands in his pockets, saying nothing but missing nothing. Jace stood apart, eyes on the trees, shoulders tight. Sloane fell in beside Jace without a word, the way she did everything, like she'd already accounted for every variable and found them acceptable. Tess, our barn stranger turned Calder's mate, drifted in last, silent as a deer, her entire body radiating tension but not fear. The change in her since her first day here was staggering, no more flinching, no more scanning for exits. She looked ready, almost eager. And then there was Eli, standing right next to Calder.

Calder took a step forward and the rest of us followed. We ran for the southern line, covering ground in a loose wedge. Nothing to hunt tonight, just territory to map, scent marks to check, and a hundred invisible signals to read and reply to. Gray ran the outer edge, watching the boundary for anything that didn't belong. Buck and Jace kept the middle. Eli moved as if outrunning something only he could see. At the highest point of the ridge, I paused and looked back. The porch light was still on. Midge hadn't moved.

A hundred yards past the creek, a whitetail broke cover. The rest of us clocked the deer, calculated, and dismissed it. But not Eli. He shifted gears and shot after her. No signal, he didn't look back, just poured every muscle into the chase. Calder turned to me, the look in his eye as hard as a rifle stock. This was my problem. I broke formation and gave chase.

Eli was fast. He was so fast it took everything I had to close the gap. At the edge of the next clearing, he stopped dead. The deer was gone, but Eli stood there, head up, chest heaving. I paced toward him. There was no fear in him, but there was a flicker of something else, defiance, maybe, or embarrassment. I didn't snarl. I didn't posture. I just gave him the stare that said, “Enough.” He looked away first, and that was all it took.

We loped back to the main group. Ash shot him a look as we passed, and Tess nipped his shoulder, not hard, just enough to say “dumbass” in the language we all understood.

Back at the barn, the others peeled off for the bunkhouse. Only Eli lingered once we’d shifted back. Thanks to an old spell, our clothes shifted back and forth with us.