Stacey Kayne – Mustang Wild (страница 9)

“Do you have to keep saying that?”

“I can’t turn my back for ten minutes without you pulling some reckless stunt that lands us in a heap of trouble!”

Tucker glared over his horse at his brother. “We haven’t been together a full two weeks and I’m already sick to death of your mothering. Well guess what, Mother Chance, me and my recklessness raked in the pile of money that started the horse ranch we’ve been dreaming about having since we were twelve.”

“True, but there’s more to running a ranch than playing with horses. You couldn’t hold on to that place for a full year if I didn’t do all the tasks that require sitting still for more than five minutes. When I arrived in Wyoming, you were nearly flat broke and didn’t even know how many men you had working for us, or any documented financial records.”

Yeah. And his system had been a hell of a lot more fun before Chance showed up with all his business protocol and bookkeeping journals. But, truth be told, Tucker wasn’t keen on long-term responsibilities. He could read, write and tally numbers just fine, he just didn’t like doing that sort of stuff, and he’d never been too good at making himself do things he didn’t enjoy. Life was too damn short.

“Things will work out,” he said.

“Things will work out?” Chance parroted in a dull tone.

Tucker sensed another fire-and-brimstone lecture coming on. Lord, his brother had surely missed his calling to be a preacher. He turned his back to Chance and focused on grooming his horse.

“I’d feel more at ease if I thought you were the least bit concerned about our situation, or haven’t you noticed that all our planning has been shot to hell?”

“Would you stop being such a damn wake-chaser. So we’ve had a few shifts in our plans,” Tucker said with a shrug. “Life doesn’t always play out like those long, boring cattle drives you’re so fond of, and a bunch of fussing and fretting isn’t going to solve our problems.”

“I have plenty of cause to be fretting, Tuck. You don’t seem to be in a hurry to get back to Wyoming. A few months ago you couldn’t wait to get off our place. Frankly, I’m beginning to wonder if you’ll be able to handle being tied down to one place for more than a season.”

Tucker’s gut tightened in a painful knot as he continued to run the brush over Rosie’s smooth coat. He’d been asking himself that very question, and he knew Chance sensed his restlessness. After spending the fall building a bunkhouse, stables and fences, he’d developed a serious case of cabin fever over winter. By the end of spring, he was all too happy to spend his summer hunting the band of horses he’d spotted while traveling through New Mexico the year prior, leaving Chance to run their newly constructed ranch for a few months.

But he was committed to his brother, to the pact they’d made to each other. He’d find a way to make it work. Leaving Rosie fed and dry, Tucker went to stand before his brother’s stall.

“We may drive each other insane, but we’re in this together. I’ll do what I can with the horses and we’ll start for Wyoming within the week. We’ll need supplies for the four of us. You want to take care of that?”

Chance gave a sharp nod and resumed grooming his horse.

“You better send word to the ranch when you go for supplies and let Zeke know Randal may be on his way. Trouble’s a tad easier to spot when you know it’s coming.”

“Will do.”

Tucker glanced through the open doors to the cabin across the yard. Cold, hard dread settled in his chest. “Chance, is she really as impossible as she seems?”

Chance met his stare. “As a ramrod no one questioned Sky’s authority or skill, though none of us knew we were taking orders from a girl.”

“Hell.”

“Hey, Tuck?” shouted a voice from outside.

“In here, Garret,” he called back.

Garret came through the wide double doors with a bedroll tucked under each arm. He stopped as he stepped into the shadows of the barn, his eyes widening as his gaze moved between Tucker and Chance. “Wow. That’s plain spooky. One of you should grow a beard or somethin’.”

Tucker glanced back at his twin standing inside the stall and realized he, too, had a day’s worth of stubble on his chin. “We tried that, but neither one of us could stand having a furry face. What’s with the bedrolls?”

Garret shrugged. “Figured I’d find a spot in here for us to bed down tonight.”

“You can sleep in the cabin.”

He tossed the bedrolls into an empty stall. “Nope. Sky said we’re sleeping out here. She also said you two can come in and have supper.”

Tucker whipped his gaze toward his brother. His lips stretched into a tight smile. “You hear that Chance? Skylar says we can go eat in our own cabin.”

Garret snickered as he walked from the stable.

“What the hell are we gonna do, Tuck?”

“About the only thing we can do. Go eat supper with Skylar Daines-Morgan, our new trail boss.”

Chapter 4

S kylar sat atop the fence outside the stable, watching a small beacon of white light blossom in the darkness. The orange sun began to slowly crest the eastern horizon, magically chasing shadows from the land. Pale streamers of light sprayed across the sky, replacing the nighttime stars with the warm glow of early morning, and transforming hidden patches of white into brilliant pink clouds.

Skylar saw no beauty in the colorful sunrise, only deception. Pink clouds were merely an illusion of light, just as her father’s promises had been an illusion to lure her to Wyoming. The bitter reality of her father’s lies crashed through her spirit with devastating force, filling her chest with such pain she hardly had room for breath.

Life seemed to be one big deception after another. Her father had never intended to build them a home. Zachary Daines had caused her plenty of disappointment in the past few years, but to her knowledge, he’d never flat out lied to her. Why did he lie?

To get the only thing that’s ever mattered to Zachary Daines, her mind answered. The chance to see and roam a new stretch of ground. To do that, he’d needed her to tame his horses and look after Garret.

She didn’t want to believe Chance Morgan’s word over her father’s, but when she stared into Chance’s cold green eyes, she knew he was telling her the truth. The deed she’d safely sealed inside the rear facing of her father’s Bible belonged to the Morgans alone, yet she couldn’t let them have it. Not yet.

Drawing a deep breath, she shifted her gaze into the corral at Tucker’s small band of anxious mustangs. She’d spent the last two years turning wild ponies into fine horses many cattle or cavalry outfits had paid top dollar for. Yet here she sat, with nothing to show for all her hard work and a little brother to raise on her own. How on earth was she supposed to take care of Garret without a job or a penny to her name? How could her father do this to them?

She had to get their horses back. She and Garret could at least make a start with the money from those mustangs. If they made good time and followed the trails marked in her father’s journal, they could catch up to Randal in Wyoming. Although even if she recovered her horses, she still had the Morgans to worry about. As Tucker’s wife, they could try to claim her horses without paying her one red cent.

Tugging at her leather gloves, she jumped down into the corral. There didn’t seem to be a man on this earth who could be trusted, and Tucker Morgan had proven to be as deceitful as the rest. She and Garret had overheard every word of Tucker’s plans to gussy her up and marry her off to the first Wyoming man they came across. Fuming, she had served a bowl of stew for herself and Garret, then dumped a handful of salt into the rest. She was here to train horses, not cater to a man who planned to trade her off like livestock.

She shrugged her lariat from her shoulder, catching the coils of rope in her gloved hand. Tucker Morgan had a thing or two to learn about women. By the time they reached Wyoming, he’d be begging her to stay on and work with his horses.

“Okay, ladies, who’s gonna be first?” She scanned the mares, all of whom were stamping and snorting, making it clear they had no desire to tote a rider on their backs. Time they learned life didn’t have a damn thing to do with what anyone wanted. If she was going to beat Wade Randal to Wyoming, they had work to do.

Pulling some slack through the knot at the end of her rope, opening her lasso, she glanced at the saddled brown-and-white mare she’d separated from the herd the night before. She’d spent most of the past evening assessing Tucker’s mares, allowing them to become familiar with her and the sound of her voice. The spirited paint had caught her attention right off as she moved through the corral, pushing the others out of her way. Skylar had seen a few nips and cuts on some of the other mares, and figured the dominating brown and white was responsible for those injuries.

The headstrong mustang had been a handful just to haul into a solitary pen. She’d been a snorting, stamping beast while Skylar slung a saddle onto her back during the early-morning darkness.

I’ll save the best for last, she thought, shifting her gaze back to the other horses.