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KIERA SET HER SUITCASE on the second bed in the motel room. Cecily had invited her to stay overnight, but Kiera had opted to practice being Kiera O’Leary, the Independent Traveling Photographer. In business, while it was important to be friendly, it was equally important to be professional. Accepting favors from clients could lead to them expecting favors in return.
Kiera booted her laptop and used her phone app to deposit Cecily’s check. Whether what happened at the meeting at the Triple-D would impact Cecily’s decision about her marketing plan remained to be seen. Kiera needed to work on the Helping Through Horses pictures she’d been hired to provide, hired being the significant word.
Cecily had insisted she wanted pictures of Javi for her promotional materials and had promised to let her know when she could arrange the shoot.
If not for the shooting, Kiera would have called her vacation over and done with and gone home tonight. She had a car to buy and a funeral to attend. Until then, she had images to process for Cecily.
Her photo processing software alerted her to an update, something that seemed to happen all too often. She set it to run and went through her emails.
A reply from High Country Lifestyles in her inbox had Kiera’s heart thumping. Did they like the additional images she’d sent? Or would it be a polite no thank you? She clicked the message open.
They wanted to use one of her pictures. Only one? Chiding herself for her negativity, she concentrated on the positive—they were going to pay for a picture. One was a start. She had another credit for her photography résumé. Kiera read the email a second time. They would be contacting her for more images as their needs arose. Her spirits lifted. This could be more than a one-off.
Kiera opened the attachment, the contract between herself and the magazine. She read it carefully. Even boilerplate contracts had to be scrutinized. The money the magazine offered wasn’t a lot, but it was better than putting her images on the stock photo sites where people could download them for free and weren’t even required to give credit to the photographer. Others paid, but only when people downloaded the images, and there wasn’t a lot of prestige in saying you uploaded two thousand photos to a site that accepted anything.
The contract didn’t allow her to fill out the photo information or sign it on line. She composed her reply, saying she was pleased to accept their offer and terms, but she was away from her office and would send the paperwork back no later than Monday. A traveling photographer might not have access to printers or scanners, right?
She’d decided she would publish her photographs using her real name. By the time her photos appeared anywhere, whatever Stu might or might not try to do to her should be long over. He had nothing to gain by coming after her once the compliance team was investigating him.
Or so she told herself. Her program had finished updating, but gravel-filled eyes and lids that refused to stay open had her abandoning any photo processing. She had plenty of time tomorrow.
As Kiera got ready for bed, she wondered what had happened with Javi. Would Frank try to convince the rancher who had accepted the kid into Cecily’s program to kick him out or cut him some slack? Stupid thought. What clout did Frank have? He was a hired hand. The cattle belonged to Derek.
~
THE NEXT MORNING, KIERA packed her camera gear and followed Cecily’s directions to Phil Randall’s ranch. Cecily had filled her in on what they’d discovered last night and was eager to move forward with her promotion. Ten minutes with Javi and Kiera wondered if scheduling the shoot today was a smart choice. Javi clearly felt the aftereffects of being confronted as a cattle rustler. She pulled Cecily aside and expressed her concerns.
“Once he gets working, I’m sure he’ll loosen up,” Cecily said. “I’m not looking for studio portraits, just illustrating the kinds of work the kids do. Of course, happy would be better, but I want to move on this.”
Kiera feared Javi would end up being a faceless kid doing ranch work, but if that’s what Cecily wanted, that’s what Kiera would shoot. One of Phil’s ranch hands, Clay, hung around. Although he wasn’t interfering, Kiera could tell Javi considered him a warden.
“You have a favorite horse, Javi?” Kiera asked. “The light is good over at that hitching post. I could get a picture of you giving the horse a piece of carrot or apple or whatever treats you use here.”
“Mohawk’s okay,” Javi muttered.
“I’ll bring him out,” Clay said.
He returned a few minutes later leading a dark brown horse with a black mane and tail. Kiera understood why they’d named the horse Mohawk, as his mane was only a few inches long and stood up straight along his neck. She’d never seen a horse with that kind of a haircut.
Her curiosity must have shown, because Javi uttered his first spontaneous words of the day. “It’s called roaching. He was always rubbing his neck on the fence rails and he had some bald spots.”
“Thanks. I love learning new things.” Kiera directed Javi where to stand, and set up the pose without the carrot until she was satisfied with the camera angle and lighting. A light sparked in Javi’s eyes, and an inkling of a smile played at the corner of his mouth as he gave the horse the carrot pieces.
With the carrots gone, she caught a few more shots of Javi interacting with Mohawk—patting his neck, scratching him between the ears. “These will be great,” she said, as much to Javi as Cecily. She thanked him for his patience.
He shrugged. “Beats shoveling shit.”
She laughed. “That it does. Want to see the pictures? You can get an idea of what they’re like.” She tapped the camera to bring the pictures into the display screen and angled it for Cecily and Javi. The kid smiled as she scrolled through the images.
“I can’t wait to see the finished product,” Cecily said.
“I’ll send you the proofs and you can choose the ones you want me to work on,” Kiera said.
Javi gave Mohawk a pat on his rump as Clay led the horse away. He ducked his head and moved closer to Cecily. “Miss Cooper, you can tell your detective that Nico told me he wouldn’t make any more calls.”
~~
FRANK WOKE TO BRIGHT sunlight. He attributed the extra three hours of rack time to the antibiotics. They’d done their job, and the soreness from the puncture wound on his neck was minor. He didn’t see the need to continue taking them, but he saw Kiera’s face, heard her voice every time he looked at the vial on his kitchen counter. The doctor had said to take them until they were gone, so he would. Every time he took a pill, he sent Kiera a mental message.
I’m being responsible. I’m not Ben.
For all the good it would do. She hadn’t returned his call, answered his texts. She clearly couldn’t deal with the possibility—which would never happen—that he’d refuse sensible medical treatment. Or do anything reckless requiring medical treatment.
His cell interrupted his bout of self-pity. Derek. Did he need Frank at the ranch after all?
“What’s up, D-Man?”
“Heard from Cecily. Turns out Nico was my mystery caller.”
Frank plopped onto the couch. “Nico? Javi’s associate? Why would he threaten you? Javi was working on Phil Randall’s spread.”
“Who can follow the workings of the mind of a kid with a grudge? Maybe he’ll explain when the cops bring him in for the rustling. Cecily reported Nico to the brand inspector, too.”
“It explains why he never made specific demands,” Frank said. “Stampeding the cows was his idea of a joke. The crank calls were probably another one.”
“Thought you’d want to know,” Derek said. “Enjoy the rest of your day. See you tomorrow at six. We’ll ride through the herds, then start baling. Forecast calls for rain at the end of the week, so we need to get everything baled and stored.”
“I’ll be there.” Frank disconnected, a wave of satisfaction coursing through him. Derek had his cattle back, hay baling would be over and done, and the crank caller mystery had been solved. Now, if he only had something to do other than housecleaning, laundry, and grocery shopping on his day off, life would be good.
Better with Kiera.
How pathetic. She was gone. He’d never missed having a woman around before. Why did it matter now?
Instead of the grocery store, he went to the animal rescue center.
~
SUNDAY MORNING, FRANK and Zara, his new border collie mix, arrived at the Triple-D.
Bryce, as expected, was delighted. “About a year old, I’d say. Probably got blue heeler in her. She’ll be a handful.”
“That’s why she’s here,” Frank said. “The center said the family that dropped her off didn’t realize what it took to keep this breed occupied. They live in a trailer, have a baby on the way. Leaving her home alone in my house wouldn’t be much better.”
Bryce crouched and gave the dog a careful once-over. “Pisses me off people don’t research a breed before bringing one into their household. She should fit right in on the ranch. Derek know you have her with you?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t spring something like this on him.” Frank took off his hat, wiped his forehead. “He suggested you might be willing to help turn her into a genuine cattle dog, unlike Charlie, who just pretends.”
“Sure. That combination of breeds, she should have plenty of good instincts to work with.” He gave the dog a good scratch. “You ready to be a rancher, Zara?”
Zara rode on Frank’s lap in the pickup, head out the window, tongue out as they trailered the horses to the pasture. When she saw the cows, her ears pricked up, as if to say, I know what those are. I’m ready to work.