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TWO MORE RANCH hands on horseback came from behind the barn, leading a dozen cows into a fenced pin area. They carefully maneuvered individual steers into separate pins, then locked the gates behind them. The biggest bloody horse Stiles had ever seen trotted into the yard, and the man belonging to the voice was riding it.
“Drew, leave them be and go get Gus. We need to get them branded and back out into the field before sundown. Mitch, finish getting them separated.”
“Yes, sir,” Drew bellowed, and he nudged his horse in Stiles’ direction.
“Who the hell is that?” Drew yelled, causing the large man to turn.
Stiles’ throat closed up and his entire body tingled like a cold wind had blown across his bare skin. The man was huge. He was shirtless. His upper arms were nearly as thick as Stiles’ thighs. He’d never seen muscles like that on a man. Wide shoulders led to a broad chest and flat stomach, which tapered to a slim waist. His thighs were stretching the material of his waist overalls till the blue threads looked nearly worn through. Stiles could see the little indentions across his abdomen, defining muscles there as well. A thick carpet of hair the color of snow covered his chest and arms. It looked as soft as cotton. When he removed his hat to wipe at the sweat on his brow, Stiles saw the hair on his head was also white, with gray and black peppered throughout. His beard was the same, thick, and looked as silky as the hair on his chest.
Stiles’ mouth watered. This was the most incredible specimen of manhood he had ever seen. He choked back a lusty groan as he felt his prick take notice as well.
Momentarily, Stiles wondered what that kind of man saw when he looked at Stiles. There was nothing in those sky blue eyes, or showing on the stoic face. He dismounted with grace and ease. Patting the horse’s flank gently, he whispered something Stiles couldn’t hear.
Stiles offered his hand to shake before he spoke. He was trembling.
“Stiles Long. I believe you’ve been expecting—”
“I have and you are early. None of the staff knows the reason for your visit and I would prefer to keep it that way.” He didn’t shake Stiles’ hand or even smile. “Lizzie will show you to your room.”
With that last statement, the man abruptly dismissed Stiles. He strode across the yard and yelled at Mitch to get the branding iron.
Stiles was wordless. And angry. He may look like some dandy in this get up, but there was no reason for the man to treat him this way. The all-consuming attraction Stiles had felt only a moment before had been blown out. Like a match in a breeze. In its place was a burning desire to punch Savage Beare in that unsmiling, ruggedly handsome face. The name ‘Savage’ certainly fit the man.
A gentle hand on his shoulder caused him to start, but a soft familiar voice calmed him. Lizzie.
“Mr. Long. The boys brought your luggage into the house. I can show you to your room now.” Her smile was warm and welcoming. They weren’t supposed to know each other on this assignment, so Stiles played along.
Tipping his hat, he said, “Thank you, Miss. That would be greatly appreciated.”
“My name’s Lizzie.” She raised her hand and directed Stiles into the house.
Inside, Stiles was shocked to see the fine pieces of furniture making up the living areas of the main floor. Tables and chairs of oak were scattered about the room. Sofas covered in soft velvet floral prints sat in the middle of the open expanse. Expensive glass objects added charm. There were portraits of western scenes painted in brilliant colors hanging on the walls. They drew his eyes.
Stiles stopped before one painting. It was of a sunset over the prairie. Long shadows covered the ground, making the prairie grass look dark and brooding. And yet, the shades of pink, lavender, and orange made the clouds in the background practically glow. There was nothing else in the picture—no people or animals—just the colors that swirled and captured you.
“Mr. Long?” Lizzie said softly. “Your room is this way.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve just never seen anything so beautiful.”
Stiles followed Lizzie through the parlor, past a dining room furnished with the same type of items as the parlor. There was a study or office on one side of the hall, with bookcases from floor to ceiling. Lizzie pointed to a closed door and explained that it contained the inside facilities.
At the end of the hall there was a door to the right and Lizzie opened it, allowing Stiles to enter first.
A tall four-poster bed took up most of the room. Covered in a cream-colored silk wrap, it looked soft as a cloud. There was a chest taller than Stiles to store clothing in. A shorter one with a mirror and water pitcher on it sat in the opposite corner. He could use it for shaving and cleaning up a bit in private.
“Very nice.”
“There is a shower hooked up to the water tower. Most of the men use that for washing up,” Lizzie stated.
The door to the bedroom was open and, though they were alone, Lizzie still pretended they didn’t know each other. Stiles wondered if she was afraid someone was listening in on their conversation.
“Dinner is at six, but if you need anything before then....”
Stiles realized he was actually hungry. The last meal he had eaten was a very small breakfast before leaving Mercer.
“Something light?”
“How about a cold meat sandwich and a glass of ice tea?” Lizzie spoke as she shifted her back to the open bedroom door. She slipped a piece of paper into Stiles’ palm and backed toward the door.
“Sounds wonderful. Thank you.”
Lizzie left the room, closing the door behind her softly. Stiles slumped into a tall-backed chair located near a window where a soft breeze blew through the sheer curtains covering it. He unfolded the note and read.
Stiles. So wonderful to have you here. Things are not as they seem. Mr. Beare does not like when the men become too friendly with me, so I think it best our communications stay on passed notes. Another partial herd was found dead yesterday. The animal doctor is supposed to be checking, but so far he has no idea how they are being poisoned. At least that’s what he says. Trust no one here. It seems they all are hiding something. Pete Huggins has taken it on himself to be my guardian. Please be careful. Lizzie.
Stiles stood, crossed the room, and hid the note in the bottom of his valise. Lizzie wore her mask well. He tried to put things together in his mind, but he really hadn’t learned very much so far. By the time he’d unpacked his cases, he’d devised a plan he would put into action at the evening meal.
A knock at the door drew his attention, but instead of finding Lizzie on the other side, Pete Huggins stood holding a tray with his sandwich and ice tea. Pete shoved the tray at him.
“Don’t be thinking you’re entitled to special treatment. You’ll take meals with the rest of the hands at regular mealtime. Lizzie’s got plenty of chores to keep her busy without pampering the likes of you. Don’t be getting no ideas about her either.”
Having had his say, the man disappeared down the hall. He wasn’t laughing and smiling so much now.
It appeared that Lizzie had found herself an admirer. That could cause trouble down the line. He hoped Lizzie was smart enough to be aware of that.
The sound of water splashing drew Stiles to the window. He could see the tall water tower several yards away from the house. A man was standing under the cascading flow of water. He was naked and the water dripped down his torso. Stiles didn’t have to guess who the man was. No one else he’d seen so far matched him. It was Savage Beare. Stiles stood behind the sheer curtains until Beare finished and walked away with a towel wrapped around him. He was walking toward the house.
Stumbling over the chair beside the window, Stiles moved away so he wouldn’t be seen. His breath was coming in gulps as he stayed quiet and listened to footsteps approaching down the hall. A door opened and closed and all was silent again. Sighing deeply, Stiles adjusted his throbbing member and wondered what sex with a man like that would involve. Looking down at the tent in his pants, he also wondered if he had time to take care of the problem before dinner. He’d make time.
A BELL CLANGED loudly from somewhere on the property. Stiles was sure it was calling the ranch hands in for their evening meal. He took a look at himself in the mirror and straightened his tie. There was no need to wear his hat, so he left it behind in his room. He brushed his fingers through his hair one last time and felt his appearance was quite fitting.
He followed the sound of men’s voices, laughing and joking amongst each other. Walking through the arch that lead into the largest kitchen Stiles had seen since he’d left his home in England, he realized he was overdressed. Most of the ranch hands were in clean shirts and the same blue waist overalls that Savage Beare had been wearing earlier in the day. The thought of Savage Beare’s naked body caused Stiles’ cheeks to flush. The room went silent as every man looked in Stiles’ direction. Even Lizzie stared and shook her head in dismay.
Gus Williams started laughing and eventually the rest joined in with him. Stiles wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him embarrassed or upset. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the gray pinstriped suit he was wearing, or the white shirt and black tie. He was about to speak up when he felt another body come close to his. The men stopped laughing and started digging into the plates of food set in front of them. Seeing everyone else in the room, Stiles realized one person was missing—Savage Beare. Assaulted by the scents of leather and musk, Stiles knew who stood behind him. His cock jerked slightly and he cleared his throat before he looked over his shoulder.
This close, he could see the icy blue depths of Savage Beare’s eyes in his tanned face. Small lines crinkled at the corners of them as he stared at Stiles. His lips turned up into a smile. The first smile Stiles had seen on the man’s face and it melted his insides just a little.
“I believe there are a couple of seats open at that end of the table, if you’d care to join us,” Savage said. He left Stiles standing and walked to the other end of the table.
Lizzie filled Savage’s glass as soon as he sat and he thanked her. Finding the strength to move his legs, Stiles took the seat to the man’s left. Gus Williams was sitting to his right, chewing vigorously on a fried chicken leg. Someone passed the plate of chicken to Savage, who pulled a large piece of meat from the pile and passed the plate to Stiles.
Other bowls and plates passed by Stiles. He did put some food on his plate, but his appetite had suddenly dwindled. Eventually, the men started talking again and the discussion turned to the dead cattle found yesterday. Savage cleared his throat and the men immediately stopped talking.
“This is Stiles Long. He will be visiting with us for a while. The owner of the ranch has asked him to check into seeing where we could make improvements.” Savage looked around the table at the men seated there.
“I think you’ve already met Pete and Lizzie. This is Gus Williams,” he pointed to his right. “He’s the second foreman.” Each man in turn raised their hand with a sort of half-wave when Savage called their names.
“Drew and Larry Fargo, Mitch Walker, Phil Clark, and Dan Parker make up the stay-on hands. There will be a dozen more men showing up in two weeks for the cattle drive. Most of them local farm lads trying to earn some extra cash.”
“It’s nice to meet you all. Thank you, Mr. Beare, for introducing me. Now,” Stiles pushed his plate away and looked at each man before he spoke again. “Contrary to what you may believe you know about me, I didn’t just fall off the wagon this morning. Ask Pete, he’ll tell you I rode the whole way.”
Larry Largo laughed to himself at Stiles’ attempt at a joke, but he was the only one. Having failed at levity, he got down to business.
“Mr. Beare, I will need a horse available to me. I need to be riding out and looking at the cattle, the stations, and the grazing pastures. I will also be inspecting the barns, stalls, and cattle pins. I may need someone to ride along with me at times, but I demand that I have free rein to come and go as I see fit.” Stiles voice tapered toward the end of his statement. Mostly because Savage Beare’s face grew darker and darker as he spoke.
“Demand?” His voice had dropped to a low growl.
“Well, yes. My superior was assured that I would have freedom to come and go as I please, and carry on my investigation.”
“You’re here to investigate us?” Gus Williams barked as he stood, pushing his chair away from the table. “Why in the hell would you need to be investigating us?”
“Maybe it has something to do with what’s been happening to the cattle,” Larry Largo offered quietly.
“Shut the fuck up, kid,” Drew Largo, his brother, snapped at him.
“All of you shut up,” Savage Beare growled, while staring at Stiles.
“Gus will have you a mount ready in the morning.” Savage turned to face the rest of the men. “If you are all riding into town tonight, you better get going.”