Warm fluff settled on Kiersten’s face and curled contentedly around her nose. She opened one eye to shiny black fur.
“Mmf! Ebony, geez.”
He meowed as she pushed him away. The damage had been done. She was awake. No matter. It was getting light outside, and she had to meet Cleve to hang the fence.
She loaded a five gallon bucket with wire pliers, extra wire hooks, brush cutters and a hammer, then strapped the bucket onto her ATV and headed up the mountain with Oscar loping behind. A sliver of sun had peeked over the horizon by the time she topped the mountain and parked on the corner of her property.
Cleve hadn’t arrived, so she set about tugging the wire out of the weeds already conspiring to keep it permanently horizontal.
Oscar snorted around in the brush, digging after escaping prey.
Still no Cleve.
Well, she might as well get started. It would have been easier with a second person. He could hold the wire up while she tightened hooks that fastened the fence to the steel posts. Doing it solo was a pain, but she managed to secure the wire on the first few posts, then picked up her bucketful of tools and moved down the hill.
Cleve had stood her up.
“No surprise there. All guys are jerks.”
Running through all the four-letter words she could think of to describe Nate, Trayce and Cleve, she swung a fierce kick at a loose rock. The weight of the bucket tipped her, and she tumbled in lopsided flips down the steep hillside, landing in an awkward heap. A shower of heavy tools and prickly wire clips rained down on her. The hammer whizzed by her face and struck her left hand a bone-jolting blow.
When the dangerous precipitation had ended, she removed her hands from her face and lay still. “Why me? Why me, goddammit? What did I do to deserve this?” Her left hand ached to the core.
“Oww!”
Her hand was already swelling.
Oscar sat attentively by her side, his eyes sympathetic.
“This is such bullshit.” Latching onto the bucket handle with her right hand, she flung it down the hill, where it clattered off several rocks and landed with a scratchy whoosh in a bush somewhere.
“Fuckin bucket!” She started crying. One particularly jagged stone stood out from the crowd under her shoulder blades. Wasn’t even worth it to shift positions. Crying this way was easier, anyhow. The tears ran across her temples and into her stick-and-leaf-infested hair, rather than traveling all the way down her face.
Maybe she could lie there and wait for the end of her miserable existence. If she was lucky, a bear or mountain lion would happen upon her and speed the process. But poor Oscar would meet his end, too, if that happened. Best to send him home where he’d be safe.
“Oscar, go home!”
He merely stood and wagged his tail faster.
“Go home, Oscar!”
“Tryin to get him to go for help like Lassie?”
Cleve. And directly above her head, the grass-stained knees of his jeans. Further into the center of her line of sight, his face, looking down at her. Trying to hide a grin! Asshole.
Oscar took a relaxed seat next to her again, as if reassured she wouldn’t need his help after all.
“Doesn’t look like he’s gonna tell anybody about little Timmy fallin down the mine shaft.” Cleve’s baritone voice shook with hidden laughter.
She struggled to turn over and push herself upright. Wire clips blocked everywhere she tried to put her hands or knees, and the back of her right leg hurt like hell.
Strong hands came around her middle and tugged her up to her feet.
Oh, now he came sweeping in to help, like the goddamn cavalry. Glaring at him, she attempted to brush the bigger debris from her body with her right hand. She seethed inside, positively boiled, but had no intention of letting Cleve know it. No point in bitching about him not showing up on time. That would only hammer home Chaz’s point that she couldn’t handle things on her own. Speaking of hammers...she picked up the offending one from where she’d been lying and heaved it like some deformed discus into the brush.
Criminy. If he wasn’t going to be here to help with the fence, why’d he have to show up and find her bawling?
As she bent to pick up the wire pliers, she noticed Cleve sported a good tear along the right sleeve and shoulder of his shirt. “Well, what the hell happened to you?”
Cleve’s grin had faded as he looked her up and down. “Uh, had a little tussle with the ATV this mornin.”
“Looks like you lost.”
He chuckled. “Is the pot callin the kettle black?”
“At least I got here on time.”
“Sorry ’bout that. I came by yesterday to tell you I’d be late, but you weren’t home.”
Well, that was true enough. “Boss Hogg have an early morning errand for you?”
He ran his knuckle under the brim of his hat and looked away. “Uh, no. It’s Mother’s Day, is all.”
So it was.
“I had to give her a call early, while the family was all there for breakfast.”
“Sweet.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her voice. Must be nice having a big, happy family, but she sure wouldn’t know. Reaching to rub her throbbing leg, she felt blood. “I’m a damn mess.”
“What happened here?” Thank God he’d steered the topic away from Mother’s Day.
She tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Just a little trip. Nothing major.”
His brows shot up. “Hate to see somethin major. Better get that cleaned up.” He indicated her leg. “And your hand needs some ice. Maybe an x-ray. I’ll drive ya down. Your ATV at the top?”
She looked at the disaster around them. The fence still wouldn’t be upright, and the day was a bust. “Yeah, where’s your quad?” She hadn’t heard him drive up. Maybe he’d left it where he’d wrecked.
“Parked it down by your house, so we’d have a way to come back up the hill and get yours.” When she looked pointedly at his injuries, he said, “I wrecked the damn thing comin up a hill outta my place. I guess I need to get it geared down for steeper terrain. Lost power and flipped it back on myself.”
“You’re lucky you didn’t break your neck.” She failed to stifle a smile.
“Looks like you broke everything but yours.”
She rolled her eyes. “Did you bring that machine here from Texas?”
He nodded.
She explained, “Probably need to get it adjusted for high altitude. I’d say it was a lack of oxygen making it kill out when it’s working hard. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Just because I’m female doesn’t mean I don’t know anything about guy stuff.” She tried to stomp up the hill toward her four-wheeler in a huff, but could only manage a gimpy, painful gait. “God, this sucks! I think there’s something stuck in my leg. Feels like the whole bush that grew from that bastard stump.” Sitting would be excruciating, since the wound was right at the top of her leg.
“Did you, uh, want me to pick up your tools?” Cleve grinned, tipping his head toward the bush where she’d thrown her hammer.
“That hammer can rust straight to hell for all I care!”
She climbed behind him on her ATV and poked his ribs. “Think you can keep this thing upright, since we’ll be going downhill the whole way?”
“Got half a mind to dump your pretty little ass off the back for that comment.”
Was he complimenting her ass, or saying she was pretty? They started moving and pain shot up her backside.
* * * *
Cleve looked down at Kiersten’s hands in front of his chest, one turning a nasty purple and one clenching in what had to be pain or fear. Since he was driving at a snail’s pace, it had to be pain. “You okay back there?”
Her head nodded against his back, but she didn’t speak. Poor little gal banged herself up good. He should have been there earlier to help. Maybe he could have stopped her from falling down the hill with all those tools.
Her white-knuckled hands had short nails. And long, delicate fingers. Such a feminine little thing, living up here all alone. Why wasn’t her prettyboy living up here with her?
Her ugly dog followed along, his tongue hanging out while he watched her almost like he was concerned. This was one case where the dog did not look like its owner. The dog had a thin, uneven coat of several shades of brown, black, and gray. His mistress had long, thick brown hair with touches of red. Her eyes were a pretty green, the dog’s, dark brown. And most of all, while the dog smelled most definitely like dog, Kiersten smelled good scooted up tight against his back. Really good.
Easing to a stop, he killed the engine in front of her cabin and waited for her to move from behind him.
Her limp wasn’t any better on the level surface, and blood had soaked through her torn jeans. The leg must be bleeding faster.
“Um, thanks for the ride,” she said, her lips barely moving.
“You want me to drive you to the ER?”
Her head was shaking before he’d finished his question.
“How you gonna get that wood out of your leg?” Surely she didn’t think she could doctor her own rear end?
Looking pretty miserable about it all, she shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it’ll get septic and I’ll croak. If you drive up in a few days and there’s a swarm of flies around my front door, call the coroner.” She waved and started what must be a painful climb up her steps.
No self-respecting Southern man would ever leave a lady in distress. “Miss Day!”
Hand on the doorknob, she turned. “Kiersten. I haven’t been Miss Day since I got married four years ago.”
He refrained from letting out the disappointed ‘Oh’ he felt. Married? “Kiersten. Put some shorts on, and I’ll clean that up and put a bandage on it.” If she was married, what the hell was she doing up here alone? Was she married to prettyboy?
After looking at him for several long seconds, she finally agreed. “Okay, thanks. Make yourself comfortable while I change.”
In the cabin, he took his time looking around. Her kitchen was painted bright red, with a red and white checkered table cloth and curtains, and even a little red microwave sitting on the white countertop. A row of colorful ceramic chickens paraded along a shelf above the window.
In the living room, everything was yellow and blue. Both the overstuffed armchair and sofa had wide stripes of matching fabric covers it looked like she’d made herself. Plants hung in every corner and in front of every window, besides the huge ones standing in several places around the room. The effect was something his Mama would have liked, tropical and outdoorsy.
“Looks like a cabana in here,” he called.
“That’s the idea. Keeps me from going crazy when the snow’s up to the top of the windows.”
If the windows were covered by snow, how could there be enough light for all those plants? He looked up and got his answer. “Don’t the skylights get covered over with snow, too?”
“No, the roof pitch is steep enough so the snow’ll slide right off. Besides, the skylights are always warm. The snow above them would melt.” She came back in a pair of gray cotton shorts. “The rest of the roof is double-insulated to keep my heat in, so it all pushes up against the skylights. I had to add them. I need natural light or I’ll go crazy.”
He wasn’t looking at the ceiling anymore, though she was. His eyes had become unwilling prisoners, shackled to her legs.
When she noticed, she blushed, but laughed. “I know, they almost glow in the dark. I can get you some sunglasses for the glare, if you want. I could use a trip to Club Med. Anywhere sunny, huh?”
He didn’t have a problem with her pale skin. No problem with her legs at all.
“Maybe you could meet your husband there,” he muttered. The good ones were always taken.
“Fff! Only place I might meet my husband is in hell, and I’m hoping to avoid that end, myself.”
He must look like a twit with his mouth hanging open. “You’re um, a widow.” One piece of good news. Well, probably not for her, even though she didn’t seem to think much of the guy.
She wrinkled her nose and shrugged. “So, you have specialized training with tweezers, or what?”
That must be his cue to follow her to her room. He looked around at the quilted country things while she positioned herself face down on her bed.
“Is this where I’m supposed to guzzle straight whiskey and then put a stick between my teeth for the pain?”
The very short shorts exposed part of her nice, round bottom. He had to look away at the window for a minute. Concentrate, dummy.
She’d done a good job of cleaning her leg, but the wound still bled and needed work.
Forcing himself to think about her injury and not her fine rear end, he asked, “You got some alcohol and maybe cotton balls? There’s dirt in here still, and lots of blood.”
* * * *
Kiersten groaned. “Alcohol stings.”
No reply.
Might as well cooperate. “In the medicine cabinet for the alcohol. The cotton balls and swabs are in a basket on the counter if the cats haven’t taken off with all of them.”
All business, he strode from the room for his supplies. He’d taken his hat off since they came inside and had a noticeable ring from it around the back of his hair. Why she found a little thing like that cute, she couldn’t say.
“You don’t have AIDS or anything, do ya?”
Hopefully he was teasing.
“Not likely.” At Nate’s prodding, she’d been tested for everything after Luke died. God knew she’d given herself no opportunity to contract anything since.
When Cleve returned and the alcohol sloshed, she repeated, “Alcohol stings.” And it did. Gentle as he was, when the liquid ran into the scrape, she clenched her fists and buried her face in the quilt. It took all she had not to screech in pain.
“Okay, you’ll have to relax the muscle so I can get at the piece of wood. It’s stuck in there good, probably from the ride down.”
With an effort, she relaxed the leg, knowing a terrific pain was on its way.
“You have a tetanus shot lately?”
When was her last booster?
“Oww! Jesus Christ, you coulda warned me!” He’d pulled out the offending hunk of stump. Quick or not, it still hurt like hell.
“Then you’d tense up, and it’d be harder to get out.”
She turned and gave him a dirty look, but he was concentrating hard on her leg.
“Be still, so I can finish cleanin it up.”
Face pressed into the quilt and fists clenched, she complied.
Smoothing the bandage, he said, “There.”
“Thanks.” Hurrying, she rose from her prone position.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked out her window. “So, if I wasn’t here, what would you have done? Would you call your Pret—I mean boyfriend, to come up here and take care of you?”
“Nate’s not my—” She had told him she had a date Friday. Maybe it was better if Cleve thought Nate was her boyfriend. “Nate doesn’t take care of me. I can take care of myself.” Time to get this man out of her bedroom. This Texan. She led the way back to her living room.
Luckily, he followed. “I didn’t mean you couldn’t. It’s just, we all need somebody sometimes.”
“Oh, what? Are you gonna remind me how dangerous it is for me to be here all alone, like Boss did? Tell you what, Texas, I’m no sniveling damsel who needs a man to carry in the groceries or wash the car. I’ve been fine the last two and half years, and I’m gonna keep on being fine, whether your boss wants to buy me out or not.” She rounded on him, pointing her index finger, though Grandma had always told her not to. “Tell him to take his threats and his scare tactics and shove them up his ass, cause I’m not gonna be scared off.”
“Threats?” Cleve’s face went crimson. “Tell me what he said.”
“Look, you obviously haven’t worked for Howell very long if you’re surprised. He’s a corrupt, ruthless fuck.”
He cringed at her language. Again. She’d come across as crude again.
Her face heated. “Yeah, I know. Potty mouth. Not very ladylike. I don’t get to act like a lady much anymore, thanks to your boss. He tried to have Rocky Peak condemned because it hadn’t been grazed in five years. Got the county to say it was a fire hazard. Meanwhile the properties on both sides of me—the ones he owns—haven’t been grazed during that time either. The county was gonna seize this place under Eminent Domain and auction it off so Howell could buy it. Cute, huh?”
His hands scrunched his hat. “How’d you keep that from happenin?”
“It had to be passed in a public hearing, so I got the voters to show up and let the commissioners know they’d lose their jobs if they did it. Next thing I know, Rocky Peak is a luxury resort.”
“This is a resort?”
She nodded. “And I pay a hundred times in property taxes what I paid when it was zoned agricultural. Went up from three hundred bucks a year to thirty grand. Luckily, there’s a loophole for the luxury zoning. If it’s used agriculturally for three years running, or as a principal residence, it can be rezoned.”
“So you got one more year.”
She shrugged. “For the zoning, I guess. This is home now. I sold my house down in town.”
“Tell me about these threats.”
“Oh. He never said anything specific, only that I was putting myself in danger, making myself a target here, all alone. Real neighborly, huh? Not ‘Call if you ever need anything’, but ‘You’re just askin for it by bein here, missy’.” Could he turn any redder? “You’re a nice guy, Cleve. You should get out while you can. Go back to Texas, where you can see your mama on Mother’s Day. I bet she misses you.”
His jaws flexed. “This, uh, threat. Was it before he offered you a million five, or after?”
“After.”
“I’m not goin back to Texas, Kiersten. I’m gonna stay here and see you don’t get any more threats. And hey, neighbor, call if you ever need anything.”
Poor Cleve. It must be tough finding out what a jackass he had for a boss. But he couldn’t do anything to stop Chaz’s underhanded dealings. “Thanks. I don’t want you losing your job over this, though. I can’t afford any more hands on my payroll. I’m kinda tapped as it is.”
“Hands?”
Whoops. Nate was supposed to be her boyfriend. “Um, I mean, I can’t afford any hands.” He didn’t look convinced by her attempted cover-up. Time to send him away. “Uh, it’s kinda early for the lunch I promised you. I guess we’ll have to wait till we do the fencing. Raincheck?”
“Sure. You need anything from town? I’m goin down later.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.”
“Listen, I’ve got a cellular. It works when it’s plugged into the big antenna in the house. Here’s the number. Don’t worry about callin for any reason, okay?”
She took down the number, but she’d die a death of a thousand screams before she’d let Chaz get word that there was anything she couldn’t handle on her own.
* * * *
Cleve sped away from Kiersten’s cabin, pushing his ATV to speeds bound to land him in another messy crash, but necessary to cool his temper before he made some phone calls. The things he’d learned in the last few minutes... How was he supposed to hold his head up around here, with folks thinking he’d pulled the rotten stunts Pop and Strom had?
He should’ve come clean with Kiersten about who he was by now, but she trusted him, and he was damn near ashamed to admit he belonged to the family who’d given her so much trouble. Nearly stole her heritage. He needed her to trust him, because now he wasn’t sure he wanted her gone from Rocky Peak. She definitely added something to the view, and having a neighbor like her would be a good thing. Hell, who was he kidding? He’d rather have her a whole lot closer than a neighbor. Every time she got mad and her eyes flashed, it pulled at something down deep inside him. And when she smiled... Lord, it made his blood pump.
A little way down the county road, he turned east and drove toward the double-wide trailer he was living in until he could have a proper home built. The property directly across the road was his too. In this, at least, he was lucky. Kiersten had thrown a monkey-wrench in Pop’s machinery by not selling the key parcel he needed to access the two thousand acres of public land. Pop had been cocksure of his ability to get the Day family out of his way. Now, assuming they could get a trail permit, it would take at least a week going around through the National Forest wilderness to the land. No motorized vehicles allowed. The cost of the lease itself was minimal—this was a matter of principal. CJ Howell always rose victorious over opposition to his expanding empire.
He made a beeline for his cellular antenna when he entered the cheap, garish trailer. Chaz had demanded the local mobile home dealer have something set up and ready to live in, but he’d failed to inspect the cheesy premanufactured thing first. It reeked “bottom of the line”. The dealer must’ve been thrilled to get it off his lot. The artificial wood paneling with papered foam trim hung by staples at unsquare angles, no two corners met where they should, and every room had squeaky floorboards. At least it would only be for this summer. If his building permits were expedited as promised, he’d have a two-story log home to live in by winter.
He took a seat on the unstable, K-Mart blue recliner and dialed Pop. Mama would be at the church lunch, but Pop would wait at home for her, like as not snoozing in his La-Z-Boy till she got back. Later tonight, they’d go to supper with his brothers and sisters in town.
“Yello?” It was Pop, all right. Sounded surprised to hear from him again so soon.
“Howdy, Pop. Ya sleepin?”
“Got forty winks in earlier when the women took off. What’s up, son?”
“Oh, just tryin to get a handle on things around here. You wanta fill me in on what you and Strom worked on with the Rocky Peak deal?” Just what kind of underhanded shit had they pulled here, anyway?
“Well, I think Chaz could brief ya on the big points. That little bugger still givin ya trouble? I’ll plump up your account if you need to offer her more.”
“Pop, you ever met her?”
“No. Heard she’s a real corker. You meet her?”
“Yeah. Just a little bit of a thing, tryin to hang on to what’s hers. Why’d y’all try to have her property condemned? You know how much she pays in taxes on that little place now?”
“Now hold on, son. We was doin business. It wasn’t personal.”
“It’s pretty damn personal when you take a home from somebody. We don’t need her parcel to have a successful operation out here.”
“Look here, Cleveland. You mind how you talk to me.”
Pop was starting one of his tirades.
Cleve leaned back in the creaky chair.
“You may be thirty years old and comin into your own, but I’m still your daddy. We do business in Colorado like we do business anyplace else. I didn’t earn what I’ve got by pussyfootin around. Y’all can thank me for bein strong and fightin for everything the Howells have. For every damn acre of every damn Flyin H ranch.”
“Makes me proud, Pop. Thinkin of all the people you ran outta their homes, so I can have more.”
“Reasonable folks were paid fair for their property.”
“Well, I’m fixin to shop the properties down the road. The Days ain’t sellin their home, and I ain’t wastin my time fightin ’em for it.”
Pop gave his disgusted sigh. “Kids these days. Give up too damn easy, you know? If you had to work for everything like I did, you’d think a lot different.”
“I’m sendin Chaz back, Pop. I won’t tolerate him makin threats to women. Let him work for Conrad or Carter, or one of the girls. He’s done nothin but make my job harder here, turnin Kiersten against the Howell name.”
“Kiersten, is it?” Pop chuckled all too knowingly on the other end. “Is she a looker?”
“Pop.”
Silence.
“Yeah, Pop. She’s a looker.”
“Got her womanly wiles workin on ya already. That’s why ya don’t send a boy to do a man’s job.”
Ain’t no man gonna think she’s not a looker. “I’m not a boy, Pop. I’m gonna do this on my own. You signed over the deeds, now let me do it my way. Things ain’t done the same now as they were thirty years ago, and you know it.”
“And that’s a damn shame. All right, son. Do as you see fit. Chaz will always have a place in my company. Send him back to me. I’ll send ya Cash and Dusty, and since Chaz is leavin, I’ll send Rowdy too, along with your stock next week.”
Cash, Dusty, and Rowdy. His best cowhands, and his quiet way of making the job of starting up this ranch a little easier.
Good friends. He’d look forward to their company.
“Thanks, Pop. Give Mama a kiss for me when she gets home. She liked the flowers I sent?”
“She liked ’em all right. A person would think you was the only one of her children that remembered Mother’s Day, the way she went on. Bye, son.”
He had another call to make.
“Chaz here.”
“Chaz, I’m makin a trip to town later. I need you available for a little sit-down talk.” He struggled to keep his tone civil. “I’ll meet you at your hotel room in an hour.”
He hung up before Chaz had a chance to question him or wheedle out of the meeting. Then he stared at the forest green carpet, the only attractive thing in the modular. It clashed with the nearly fluorescent blue furniture and red-brown drapes, but at least it didn’t show the native dark dirt already being tracked in.
Ironically, after Chaz bought such hideous housing, he’d opted to rent a room down in town, rather than take sub-standard lodging with his boss. He’d be heading back to Texas now, no matter where he’d been sleeping. Chaz ought to be happy. At least he’d get to keep the truck he’d gotten as a bonus for coming to Colorado.
* * * *
“Chaz.” Cleve nodded as he entered the room.
“Cleve. What brings you to town today?”
“Tell me exactly what you said to Miss Day on Thursday.”
“Ah think we been over this before. Ah told you we need to deal with her grandpappy.”
“You gonna threaten the old man, too, if he won’t sell?”
Best to hem and haw a bit. Where was the boy going?
Cleve didn’t wait for his answer. “I don’t think you’re big enough to threaten a man, that’s what I think. Helpless woman all alone, yes. A guy who can take care of himself, no.”
“First thing that cold little broad will tell ya is she isn’t helpless. Been provin it for some time now. Don’t even want a man’s company anymore.”
“Her personal life has nothing to do with how we conduct business. And nobody conducts business in my name by makin threats. I’m not some goddamn Texan Nazi, and I won’t have folks thinkin I am. Your work is done here. Go back to Texas. Pop said he’d put you to work with somebody else.”
What? He’d never been kicked off a job. Never. “Now look here, Cleve. I work for your daddy, and I been doin his will for almost all your born days. I take my orders from him, not you.”
“Those are Pop’s orders. Another thing—I won’t tolerate havin a man work under me if he doesn’t give me the proper respect.”
He looked down his reddening nose. “I give respect where respect is due, you snot-nosed brat. Keep thinkin with your dick, and you’ll lose everything your daddy and me worked so hard to build.”
“I don’t need you or anybody else to tell me how to run my business. I’ve spent most of my life learnin how to be a rancher, and I’m not gonna do it by bullyin girls around.”
Nice of Cleve to remind him he didn’t own a bit of what he’d worked on his entire adult life.
At his window, he watched Cleve drive away.
He’d hold off awhile on contacting CJ. As of five minutes ago, he had personal business in Rifle, Colorado.