Rounding up the cattle was a release, as if a spring had been snapped and everything holding Dakota back had suddenly flung away. This was the kind of work she loved—riding at full gallop across a field as she angled around a group of cattle. Then she’d pull up, head them off and heel her horse into motion again.
Barney knew this work, too—a reason why she’d chosen him. The horse loved this part as much as she did, and she could feel his joy as they raced across the land together, mane and hair blowing back in tangled knots that would take forever to brush out. But worth it. Oh, so worth it.
Andy worked about a hundred yards off. Romeo had been a good choice for this part of the job. He was young and wound up like an explosion about to happen. He could turn on a dime, and Andy held him in easy control. He held the reins close and tight, his knees gripping expertly, and when his gaze passed over her, he shot her a grin.
Andy could ride. It was odd to only be realizing his skill level now, and she found herself feeling grudging respect. She should have had a sense of what he could do, since they’d been on horseback for two days now, but this kind of riding was different than the slow plod toward the herd. This was daring—it took guts, and it took an instinctive trust of the animal beneath you.
“Surprised?” He laughed as he cut off the last of the escaping cows and reined in next to her.
“A bit,” she admitted ruefully.
“We can’t all be horse whisperers like you,” he said, Romeo’s hooves dancing beneath him. “But I can hold my own.”
She had to admit he was absolutely right about that. He was holding his own quite admirably, and for a man who hadn’t been honing his skills for the last decade, he obviously had natural talent. Had his family realized this? she wondered. Or had it gone unnoticed?
“Over there!” Dakota pointed toward some cows making a dash for the golden, blazing tree line. They exchanged a look and then heeled their horses into motion. The trees were like a carpet of autumn glory rolling up the mountainside. The farther up the mountain, the sparser the deciduous trees were, heartier evergreens taking over in the shallower, rocky soil.
The cattle had a lead on them and Dakota’s heart sank as several cows disappeared into the foliage. Rounding up the cattle in an open space was a much easier task than winding after them through the trees.
“Blast it!” she heard Andy mutter, and she mirrored his sentiments.
“How many went in?” Dakota asked. “I counted three.”
“Me, too,” he confirmed, and he let out a shout, turning around a couple steers heading toward the tree line, as well.
“Let’s go in on foot,” Dakota said as they approached the trees. Riding in would be more difficult, and the cows would naturally run from them. But if they went in on foot, they could get closer and encourage the cows back into the open.
They both dismounted and went in a few yards apart to try to get around the sides of the cattle and get behind them. The trees were ablaze in golds and oranges, but once they went in, it was dimmer. The fragrant leaves under their feet crunched.
“There’s one,” Andy said, picking up a long switch as he angled around the other side of the steer. He swatted the steer’s rump and it bawled out its annoyance but headed back in the right direction. Dakota took over as the cow came closer and spread her arms to encourage it to keep moving. It erupted into the open and she turned her attention to the next cow.
It took about ten minutes to get all three cows out of the trees and back into the field. When the last one shot back out into the open sunlight, she and Andy shared a grin.
“We work well together,” Andy said.
“You’re actually good at this,” she laughed. She could remember Andy shirking the work the few times their ranches had worked together for harvest or calving.
“Why so shocked?”
“I always thought you went to the city because you didn’t have what it took.” She winced. “Sorry. Is that too blunt?”
He rolled his eyes. “What made you think that?”
“That spring when you helped us with calving. My dad had that awful stomach flu, remember? We went around tagging calves. You and I were put together, and you were all aloof and disinterested in the whole process. I remember that because you didn’t tag one calf. I did it all. You were just along for the ride.”
“You wanted to do the work,” he replied with a small smile. “You were so eager and serious.”
“I was not.” Had she been? She’d been responsible. That was different. “You were lazy.”
“I could do the work—better than most, might I add—but I wasn’t about to get in your way. You kept plowing on ahead of me every time you spotted a calf.”
Dakota thought back on that summer and maybe he had a point. She’d been pretty focused then. She’d been fifteen with precisely one interest—cattle. What did that make her, a cattle nerd?
“Besides, being capable with the work wasn’t what my dad was looking for,” he added.
“No?” Twigs snapped under their boots as they made their way to the tree line. “What did he want?”
“He wanted a team player,” he said.
They emerged into the sunlight and Dakota went over to where Barney stood waiting and scooped up the reins.
“And you aren’t a team player?” she asked over her shoulder before she swung up into her saddle. The cows were grazing again a few yards off and farther away still the whoops and shouts of the other drovers filtered across the distance toward them.
Andy mounted, as well, and pulled Romeo up beside her.
“Not really,” he said with a glint in his eye. “I can go rogue from time to time.”
Going rogue was an understatement. He’d sold his land and left town. If that was what he called going rogue, then she could well understand his father’s reluctance to groom him to take over. Accumulating that kind of land took generations and a lot of money.
“Like with Mackenzie?” she queried. He paused, shot her a sharp look. She’d crossed a line with Mack, but she wasn’t sure that she cared. She wanted to know.
“What about Mackenzie?” he asked.
“You cheated on her.”
“Does everyone know about that?” he asked with a shake of his head. “I was seventeen. She and I had started up fast and hot, and I didn’t know how to take that forward. What was I supposed to do, get a job and marry her? I wasn’t mature enough to handle that kind of intensity in a relationship. I got scared and did something stupid.”
“Hmm.” She was silent for a moment. “Do you wish you’d been the one to marry her?”
Andy shot her a grin. “You’re meddling, Dakota.”
“You never come back for the holidays.” She pressed on. “Talk around Hope is that you were in love with Mack and you can’t bring yourself to see them together.”
“That’s crap.” His tone was tired but not defensive. “I don’t come back for Christmas because it reminds me of when my mom died when I was thirteen. When Dad was still around, I came home for the holidays because it still felt like Mom was here...in our memories. But when Dad died, there was no point. Christmas has never been the same since.”
She’d remembered that his mother had died, but she hadn’t tied that to Christmastime in her own mind. Obviously, Mrs. Granger’s death hadn’t impacted her own Christmas one bit back then, and for that she felt a wave of guilt. The Granger boys had lost their mother that year, and it hadn’t even put a hitch in her stride.
Dakota cleared her throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that.”
“Yeah, well...” He shrugged.
“So what do you do for Christmas?”
“I get together with some friends, we have dinner out at a restaurant, open a bottle of wine at home.”
She winced. “Not much for family.”
“It passes the time,” he said wryly. “And I know what you’re going to say. That’s not what Christmas is supposed to be. It isn’t supposed to be endured. But I’m not what a son is supposed to be, either—or a brother. So I do it my way. It’s...easier.”
They urged their horses into a trot and the cattle ahead of them started a slow move in the right direction. Dakota eased wide to keep a mother and calf moving, then edged back in toward Andy again.
“You and your mom were close?” she asked.
“Of course.” He sighed. “And that was all Dad needed to solidify his view of me. Chet was his son, and I was Mom’s son. My role in this family was set in stone long before I disappointed everyone.”
Had he been pushed into the role of irresponsible younger brother? She’d never known Mr. Granger very well. He’d been quiet and stoic like most ranchers, but he hadn’t seemed unfair or mean.
“What role?” she asked.
“I was supposed to work for my brother. I was supposed to do what Dad said, and when Chet took over, I was supposed to follow his orders.”
“Ah.” It was coming together for her. Andy had been expected to take his place as a support for Chet, and Andy had resented that. Perhaps that shouldn’t surprise her—Andy and Chet had equally strong personalities.
“What do you mean, ‘ah’?” he asked with a laugh. “Does that explain it all to you?”
“Yes.”
Andy smiled wryly but didn’t push the issue.
They rode in silence for a few minutes, her mind going over this new information. Andy was more broken than she’d realized. He’d covered well with his playful antics and disregard for rules, but there had been a lot more going on under the surface than she’d ever guessed.
“You were the opposite.” Andy’s voice broke into her thoughts. “I can analyze you, too, you know.”
“You think so?”
“You weren’t meant to inherit that ranch, either, but you knew Brody didn’t want it, so instead of getting all disenchanted with the whole thing, you just got more persistent. You had something to prove and you wouldn’t let the likes of me get in your way.”
“The likes of you?”
“Am I wrong?” he countered.
No, he wasn’t wrong. In fact, he’d nailed it, irritatingly enough. She’d been determined to prove herself worthy in her father’s eyes, and maybe that had never stopped. She was still trying to get his approval, to show her ability. She was even taking on the financial responsibility to save up enough money for the down payment on the irrigation system. She could have left that one to her father. It was technically his ranch, after all.
“I’ll take that silence for consent.” Andy chuckled. “Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me.”
“What secrets?” How well exactly did he think that he knew her?
“That you’re still scared you won’t inherit that land,” he said, his direct gaze meeting hers in a challenge. “That you’re still scared you aren’t quite good enough.”
“Oh, I’m good enough,” she retorted.
“I know it,” he said. “But I’m not the one you’re trying to convince, am I?”
Figuring him out was like a perplexing puzzle, but having him turn that same microscope onto her was mildly unsettling. She had more in common with him than she cared to own, but he was right. She was still trying to prove herself, and the only times she felt free of that burden was when she was out with the cattle, feeling the wind in her face. Out here, away from town, away from her father, away from all those pressures, she got to simply be.
And maybe that was something else she had in common with Andy Granger. Because out here he looked freer, too.
* * *
DAKOTA GOT QUIET after that and Andy wondered if he’d said too much. He hadn’t meant to shut her down. It was nice to talk to her. Of all the drovers, she was the one he felt most comfortable with—maybe even too comfortable if he was talking this much. But they had personal history. She’d been his best friend’s girlfriend. Heck, he’d expected her to become his best friend’s wife. They’d been together long enough.
There was something about how she reacted to the mention of Dwight, though. She shut down, froze over. It’d been several years since their split, and that kind of reaction seemed a little extreme for a couple that didn’t work out. He wondered what happened there—what Dwight hadn’t told him.
When Dwight and Dakota broke up, they’d been the focus of the Hope rumor mill for months. Andy had talked to Dwight a little bit when he’d come back for Thanksgiving long weekend from school, but they hadn’t had much to say to each other anymore. Dwight had stayed around town and hadn’t gone to college. Andy had gone to school and had a head full of business and economics.
Truth be told, Andy had thought himself better than Dwight at that point in his life. He wasn’t proud of that now, but youthful arrogance had no bounds. Add a few years and a bit of life experience, and a man knew that four years of college didn’t add up to anything much when it came to human value, but college freshmen weren’t always clear on that, and his glossy vision of his own future had been shinier than anything else right then. So he didn’t blame Dwight for not opening up too much. Now that Andy had experienced a broken engagement of his own, he knew exactly how much pain his buddy had been in. His empathy was several years too late to be much use to the friendship, though.
Regardless, Dwight had clammed up and not said much other than it hadn’t worked out and Dakota had called it off. Dwight had moved back in with his mom for a bit to lick his wounds, and Andy had given him an awkward pat on the back and said something banal about there being more fish in the sea.
Again, not Andy’s proudest moment.
He wished now that he’d been a better listener, because from what he could tell, Dwight had sunk into depression. The last he’d heard from him, Dwight had been talking about some sports bet he’d lost on. Andy had felt bad for him, but hadn’t lent him any money to cover it. By then they’d grown apart. They had different interests, different goals, and the only things they had in common were high school memories that felt further away than ever.
One of those shared high school memories was Dakota—a memory that was in the flesh on this cattle drive—the girl who’d chosen Dwight over him.
The cattle were moving steadily toward the river now and the other drovers were closing in. This made the job harder as four hundred cows got pressed ever closer together. It was organized chaos at best. Andy was tiring—this pace was a grueling one to keep up.
Andy whooped, pushing the cattle farther in, and the thunder of hooves and echo of bawling cattle thrummed through him. Where was Dakota? She was around here somewhere—close by, surely, since they’d been riding together only a couple of minutes ago. He looked around then whooped again, heading off a cow that tried to escape.
“Hya!” he shouted. “Get on!”
The cow zagged back into the herd, and Andy scanned the mad, writhing team of cattle. It was then that he saw her—directly in the path of steer about to make a stand. Its hooves were spread, head down, nostrils flared—signs of an angry animal. Dakota’s horse seemed to sense a personal assault because Barney reared up, pawing the air and, for a split second, Andy’s heart stopped in his chest. But Dakota stayed seated, perfectly in control of her body, and he let out a pent-up breath of relief. Andy was impressed watching her ride out Barney’s rearing, but as the horse came down, the steer thundered toward them.
Andy kicked Romeo into motion, intending to head off the steer, but before he could intercept, Barney lowered his shoulder and heaved backward, tossing Dakota clean out of the saddle as if she were a doll. She landed on the ground with a jarring thud.
Andy arrived at that moment and inserted himself between Dakota and the steer, shooting out a hand.
“Dakota!” he shouted.
She pushed herself to her feet and reached up, grabbing him by the forearm, allowing him to pull her up neatly behind him into the saddle just as the steer charged around them again.
“Thanks!” she panted as he heaved a sigh of relief.
“No problem.” He looked around for Barney and saw the big black horse not far away. He headed in his direction. “Are you okay?”
“It hurt, but I’ll survive.” Her voice was breathy and he could tell she was in pain. It felt strangely good to have her behind him—so close that he could feel the pounding of her heart against his back. Thank goodness he’d been close enough to get to her...but still, he had a feeling she hadn’t exactly been in distress. She dealt with horses and cattle on a daily basis.
When they got to Barney, she swung down and grabbed his reins. She rubbed a hip with one hand and scowled into the horse’s face.
“Not nice, Barney,” she remonstrated, and Andy could have sworn he saw guilt in Barney’s expression. Then she put a foot into the stirrup, grabbed the horn of the saddle and swung herself up.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked.
“You act like I’ve never been thrown before.” Her expression was incredulous, and Andy shook his head and laughed.
“Just checking. Let’s work, then.”
It was quite possible she was tougher than he was, even with their difference in size. She was petite and slender, while he was tall and bulky, but she could probably take more of a beating from a horse than he could and still stand afterward.
He wouldn’t be able to do this job without her, he realized. He didn’t like that fact. He’d much rather know that he could do this with his hand tied behind his back, but he knew better than that. Dakota had been quietly, unobtrusively, supporting him on this drive, and if he didn’t have her here, he’d likely have lost the drovers’ respect by now.
She was helping him succeed...but why? Why would she do this for him when he was Enemy Number One in her family? Why put herself out for him at all? He glanced back over his shoulder. She didn’t notice his scrutiny and he was struck anew by her beauty. Sitting there on the big black stallion’s back, hair blowing out behind her in the brisk wind, her cheeks reddened from exertion and weather, he found himself feeling something he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager.
She should have chosen me. When she’d had the choice between him and Dwight, Dwight had been the lucky dog who’d got to spend his weekends with Dakota Mason. Andy had always cherished a little pang of jealousy because of that. He’d tried to put it to bed, especially after Dwight had asked her to marry him, but it was still there.
But this was a decade later. They’d all grown up, changed, started lives of their own... It was time to stop envying Dwight the time he’d had with her, because here Andy was with Dakota on a cattle drive, and if he really wanted to do something about it, he could.
Or could he?
Life was cruel, because while he sat here staring at Dakota Mason, realizing just how amazing she was, there were too many reasons to hold back. Her family hated him. She was as tied to the land as Chet was, and Andy was heading out just as soon as he could manage it. He was a grown man, and this was not a possibility.
He’d best keep telling himself that, so he didn’t do something stupid.