Page 22 of Taming the Wild Cowboy

“Yeah?” It wasn’t unusual to have the occasional hunter set up camp, not realizing it was private property, but there were no seasons open.

“They were there when I drove home last night and still there this morning.”

“What kind of rig?” Trev asked.

“Blue Ford. Montana plates. Bumper-pull trailer.”

Trev stilled, then pulled the second boot the rest of the way onto his foot.

“You know the rig?”

“Maybe.” Trev pulled his pant leg down then reached for his coat hanging on the chair next to him. “You want to do me a favor and not mention this to Wade? I’ll take care of it.”

“Sure.” Jim grinned. “I’ve seen his territorial instincts in action. Never pretty.”

“Yeah.” Trev had also witnessed his uncle take care of trespassing hunters and the like. “Don’t want to stress him out. I’ll have a word with whoever if they’re still there this afternoon.”

Wade’s footsteps sounded in the hall as Trev grabbed his hat. “See you, Jim.”

Jim saluted with his coffee cup and Trev headed out the door. He’d just made it to the barn when Maclyn drove her blue Ford truck with the bumper-pull trailer into the yard. She parked near the barn and jumped out, looking pretty good for someone whom he suspected slept in her truck.

Tackle this issue now? Later?

Was it even his issue to tackle, trespassing aside?

“Unhitch your trailer over there.” He pointed to the horse and stock trailers parked side by side near the grain silo. “Next to the Featherlite.”

Maclyn might threaten windbreaks with the tractor, but she handled the trailer like a pro, swinging the tricky bumper-pull into place in one deft maneuver.

“Any calves?” she asked as she cranked the jack into place, lifting the hitch off the ball.

“Five since you left yesterday. Two in the afternoon, three in the early hours.” Which triggered another yawn, but he fought it. “How was the motel?”

Maclyn shrugged noncommittally. “They charge extra for pets.”

Jim came out of the house, the screen door banging shut behind him as he waved in their general direction before getting into his truck. If he’d recognized Maclyn’s rig as it had driven by the kitchen window that morning, Trev hoped he would keep it from Wade. He preferred to handle this matter himself.

Maclyn was waiting near her trailer, arms wrapped around her middle as she shifted her weight back and forth, obviously chilled by the brisk spring weather. Raisin’s chin rested on the window frame behind her, her little nose pressed to the glass.

“I’ll feed this morning. Take the side-by-side and start checking the boundary fence. The fencing tools are already loaded. Also”—he pulled a notebook out of his pocket—“Wade said that waterer number three is acting up, and we need to start moving manure out of the holding pens.” He glanced at her. “We’ll tackle that after you’re done checking the fence, so it may not happen for a few days. But definitely check that waterer on your way by, so we don’t end up dealing with a flood.”

“Sure thing.”

Her tone was all business, and Trev suspected he knew why. He couldn’t put his finger on the how or why, but there’d been a shift between them after she arrived with her horses yesterday afternoon. She’d seemed jumpy, as if things between them were more personal than business.

Had it been because she wasn’t on the clock, so he wasn’t her boss? Or did keeping the horses on the ranch make her feel overly beholden to him, which he knew she hated?

“You don’t mind working alone?” he asked.

“I kind of prefer it.”

“Be careful.”

She dropped her business face and gave him a smirk. “How much trouble can I get in out there?”

“Don’t tempt fate.”

“Try and stop me.”