7) Can't a Girl Have a Quiet Afternoon

Swiftly sliding out of the saddle, I led Sundance to the barn and tied him to the post. Pretending to ignore Ryan for the time being was my ultimate move. I had things to do before I had the bandwidth to deal with whatever he had brought with him.

I could feel his eyes following me as I moved around the yard. Apparently, patience wasn't going to be his strong suit today. Too bad. He'd have to learn that my schedule didn't revolve around unexpected visitors.

Unlocking the barn, I turned back to Sundance to remove his saddle. Buck trotted past me toward the shade of the small tree beside the porch. I knew full well what he was doing. Sitting down with a huff, he fixed Ryan with a glare.

I should have let him eat him in my driveway yesterday.

"Hi, Bucky boy," Ryan grinned.

He extended a hand, which immediately got snapped at. He quickly pulled it back, and I bit back a laugh. He should have expected that.

The poor man was learning the hard way that Buck wasn't particularly interested in making new friends.

Taking the saddle and blanket into the barn, I returned for Dreamer. I was going to take my time and make him wait. He was the intruder on my time for the second day in a row, and after the day I'd had, he was lucky I hadn't let Buck eat him today.

Walking across the yard to the paddock with a lead rope, Dreamer came willingly. She was more than ready for dinner. She gave a little toss of her head when she spotted the rope, already anticipating the grain waiting for her.

On my way back through the yard, I untied Sundance and brought him along, taking both horses into the barn to put them in their respective stalls.

They were both glad to have their day behind them. Sundance more than Dreamer. He was definitely showing his age more than I would have liked, and winters were becoming less and less kind to the older horse.

I ran a hand along his neck before removing the last of his tack. He'd carried me through more years than I cared to count, and I wasn't looking forward to the day when his body finally decided it had enough.

As I fed them their dinners, I opened the individual turnouts attached to their stalls. When building the barn, I'd made sure each stall had access to its own dry lot so the horses could go outside at night without me having to worry about them.

The familiar smell of hay and grain filled the barn, accompanied by the occasional shuffle of hooves against the bedding. It was a routine I'd come to appreciate. There was something comforting about knowing exactly what needed doing and having the animals depend on me to get it done.

The fencing surrounding the area probably looked more like something you'd find in a prison yard. I'd installed ten-foot electric fencing with barbed wire and steel support beams. We had some big predators around here, and most of them loved to single out horses.

Once I finished with the stalls, I stepped outside and switched on the power to the fencing beside the barn door. A quiet hum began, and I shut the barn door behind me.

I'm sure by this point Ryan was trying to piece together what I was doing. Little did he know, I'd attached my barn directly to my house. I also knew that if he got curious, Buck wasn't going to let this man wander off my porch with the mood he was in.

I opened the door into my quiet cabin and breathed a sigh of relief. I was home.

It had been a hard day. We'd lost a calf and then its mother, so things had worked out in the end, but getting there hadn't been easy. There had been a few tears along the way. Our crew had been at it since a little after one in the morning, when I'd received the phone call on the satellite phone.

Losing animals was part of ranching, something you learned to accept whether you wanted to or not. That didn't mean it ever got easier. You could do everything right, have people working alongside you who knew exactly what they were doing, and still end up losing them. Some days, being responsible for so much life weighed heavier than others. Today had been one of those days.

I walked into my bedroom and peeled off my stained jeans and bloody T-shirt. There wasn't an amount of laundry detergent in existence that was going to wash all of that out, but it was a moot point considering my occupation.

I dug through my closet, deciding I wanted to be comfortable. Pulling out a tank top and an old pair of sweatpants made me smile a little. It looked like Hollister from 2010 had thrown up in my closet, and I was here for it.

Throwing them on, I pulled my hair out of its braid and twisted it into a messy bun. That really screamed mall rat from the 2000s, but I honestly didn't care.

Walking back through the house, I sighed. I knew I needed to go see what this man wanted on my front porch. I still had paperwork to finish and needed to get to bed. Tomorrow was going to be another long day.

Calving season was like that.

I opened my liquor cabinet and retrieved a decanter of rum. After today, I figured I'd earned it. I headed into the kitchen, grabbed a tall glass, and filled it with ice.

Swinging the front door open, I didn't bother waiting for much of a response from my unwelcome guest. I settled into my favorite rocking chair beside the door, pulled my legs up, and set my glass and the decanter on the little table beside me.

The sudden appearance of the door opening behind him startled the wall of muscle sitting on my steps. I don't think he quite expected that.

Buck took his cue and bounded up the steps, pausing briefly to show his teeth at Ryan on his way past. He settled beneath the porch swing in the shade on the opposite side of the porch. He wasn't so far away that he couldn't reach me in a single bound, but he was out of my way if I needed to stand. That was the goal.

That's when I noticed the small cloth grocery sack from last night sitting beside Ryan. He was looking rather unsure of himself.

I filled my glass from the decanter and raised it to my mouth to hide my grin.

Good. He should be uncomfortable.

"How can I help you, Sparky?" I asked, almost mockingly.

He seemed to snap himself back to reality at that, standing up with the grocery sack in hand. He set it gently in front of my chair.

"I just came to return your clothes," he said, leaning against the banister opposite my chair. "And to tell you thank you."

He crossed his arms.

"Isn't it a little early to be drinking that much?"

I shrugged. I knew it was probably only two in the afternoon. I really didn't care what it looked like to him.

I could practically see the judgment written across his face. He'd have to get used to the fact that I wasn't particularly concerned with what other people thought about how I ran my life. Especially someone who had managed to turn two perfectly ordinary days into a complete circus.

I was beginning to form a snarky remark when Buck suddenly jumped to his feet.

But not for Ryan this time.

Both of our heads snapped toward the dog. He was staring in the direction of the barn.

That was never good.

His ears were pointed forward, his body rigid beneath his coat. The lazy, irritated dog who'd spent the afternoon glaring at Ryan had disappeared. I knew that posture. Buck wasn't annoyed anymore. He was alert.

I felt Ryan's gaze on my face, probably trying to understand what had just changed. Then a sharp yowl pierced the air from somewhere behind the barn.

Buck was off the porch before I could blink. I was out of my chair and reaching for my rifle and satellite phone from behind the front door.

The sound sent a chill down my spine. Whatever had made it wasn't something I wanted wandering around my horses.

I moved quickly, heading off the porch with my rifle slung over my shoulder and the satellite phone dangling between the fingers of my other hand. I knew full well Buck was going to try to kill whatever had just made that noise. My mind raced as I tried to remember whether I'd switched on the power to the fencing around the horses.

I'd need backup if this turned out to be a large cat.

Behind me, I heard the porch boards creak. Ryan had straightened away from the banister, his earlier amusement gone. I couldn't tell if he was concerned or simply trying to figure out what the hell was happening, but at least he seemed to understand that this wasn't something to take lightly.

I glanced back toward the porch. Ryan was still leaning against the banister, his arms crossed, but this time he had a rather bewildered look on his face.

Good. Let him wonder about me.

As I walked past the fence, I noticed a large cat print burned into it.

I remembered.

Good for me.