Page 7 of Taming the Wild Cowboy

“Have you calved before?”

“No, but I’ve had several mares foal and I’m a quick study.”

He gave her a point for honesty. He also noted just how tensely she held herself. The woman was close to breaking but fighting not to show it.

He sucked in a breath, knowing that he was about to wade into deep waters.

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“For now.” She looked down as she spoke.

Okay …

“Do you think you can work with me?”

Her gaze shot back to his, wary rather than hopeful, and Trev realized that he’d given her ample reason to feel that way. He obviously didn’t know the whole truth of what had happened that night with his truck. He’d believed Brooke because they’d been a couple and that’s what couples did. They believed and supported one another. But, if he’d been mistaken in trusting Brooke, if he owed Mac for ruining her chances with Buckley Livestock, which he’d most certainly done, he needed to make it right. She didn’t have the skills he needed long term, but he could put her to work while he looked for a more permanent hand.

“I’ll give you a couple days.”

A stunned expression crossed her face, but Maclyn didn’t take victory easily. “Why?”

“You’re in a spot.” And I’m still figuring shit out.

“All the same …”

Trev leaned back in his chair as he met her gaze. “Either take the job or don’t. I need an answer now.”

Maclyn lifted her chin. “I’ll take the job.”

*

Holy shit, he’d actually hired her.

It was temporary, he’d made that clear, but as things stood, she would show up tomorrow, meet his uncle, Wade, who’d had an appointment in Marietta, and then dive into her ranch duties. Duties that she planned to fulfill beyond Trev’s expectations, which would be easy enough, because he’d made no secret about setting the bar low.

She’d been honest about her experience handling cattle—close to zero—but she had other skills. She could shoe a horse thanks her training in the Equine Studies program at the University of Montana Western, run a tractor, fix a fence, and feed. She even knew a little about small-engine repair and could mend tack, skills she’d picked up at the Sweet Grass Ranch before the Benningtons bought the place, by pitching in where needed when she wasn’t attending to her wrangler duties.

She and Trev had agreed that she would handle general ranch chores while he concentrated on calving until his brother Jordan was free to help, or until he found someone who fit his qualifications. She would also learn how to calve, which would be a nice addition to her résumé.

There was no question about this being a mercy hire, and normally Mac would have balked at such a thing, but with three mouths to feed and nowhere to live, she couldn’t afford the luxury of pride.

But why hadn’t he asked about Brooke?

That was the question she had no answer to. She didn’t know how he felt about the woman he’d once been engaged to, so she’d kept her mouth closed on the subject after dropping the truth bomb. If he asked more details at some point in the future, she’d tell him the nitty-gritty, but she wasn’t going to volunteer information until then. She’d simply put her head down, do the job she’d been hired to do, and figure out her next move. And she needed to figure fast, because she had no idea how long she would be an employee of the Tree Fork Ranch.

The fairgrounds were deserted when she pulled in, which wasn’t surprising given that it was still the early part of blustery March. The only person she’d seen in the two days she’d been there was the guy driving the maintenance truck. He’d stopped to ask if she knew where the honor box for boarding horses was located and to show her the trick to opening the door to the restroom, which was thankfully kept unlocked for the general public. It had a shower room, intended for rodeo riders and the ever-present Montana vacation bicyclists who wanted to clean up before they hit the road again. Maclyn had made shivering use of it that morning, reminding herself that what didn’t kill her made her strong.

She still had hay to feed her horses that night—she’d helped herself to four bales before leaving the Sweet Grass Ranch, which seemed small compensation for the hell they were putting her through—and after work the following day, she’d visit Lane’s Feed and Supply, thank the lady for the job lead, and buy more hay. As for herself, she would eat a couple of the granola bars she’d heisted from the Sweet Grass kitchen, sleep in the truck, take another icy shower, then drive to the Tree Fork.

In the two days she’d been staying in Marietta, no one had objected to her truck and trailer being parked in the fairgrounds lot and she hoped that it would continue. Every night she spent in the truck was a night that she wasn’t paying for a motel room. The sign over the honor box was faded, but she saw where there was a limit on days allowed. She wasn’t yet sure what she was going to do about that. Throw herself on the mercy of the powers that be? Hope that no one enforced the rules?

Danny and Jessie greeted her with soft nickers as she approached the pen the two horses shared, Raisin dancing beside her. Danny, her trusty Morgan, swung his head over the top of the panel and she reached through the rails to rub his neck beneath his thick curly black mane. Her boy was such a sweetheart.

Jessie, her retired barrel horse, a red dun, pushed him away, taking his spot and twisting her neck to show Mac exactly where she needed scratched. Mac gave a low laugh and obliged with short scratches that made the mare’s lower lip protrude as she leaned into Mac’s hand.

“Enough.” She patted both horses, then opened the back of the horse trailer, which was parked at an angle near the pen, and broke open the last bale.

She was on her way to the facilities debating about whether to shower now or the next morning—either way she was going to freeze—when her phone rang. She brought it to her ear, her heart skipping when she heard Trev’s voice.