Page 10 of The Cowboy and the Stray

The scent hit me again halfway to the barn. Traces of fear-sweat and exhaustion still clinging under the reek of engine smoke and gasoline. Tess's scent. My wolf paced and rumbled, hackles starting to bristle under my skin. The human part of my brain couldn't make sense of its reaction. She was scared, alone, crashing on our territory in a wrecked car, but she wasn't a threat. Was she? She smelled like trouble wrapped in bruises. Now I was questioning my instincts.

My boots crunched on the gravel as I followed the trail, past the house and down towards the big sliding doors of the barn. Morning already had sweat prickling on my neck. It was going to be a scorcher. Another day in paradise.

I spotted Reid first, his broad shoulders bare and gleaming wet as he worked the hose over Ghost's pale flanks. The big buckskin stood patient, only the occasional flick of his ears betraying any irritation at the cold water sluicing through his mane.

"Morning," I called out, but Reid didn't turn, didn't pause. That was Reid. Steady, focused, not much for talking unless he had something that needed saying. Stoic bastard. Never changed.

I grabbed the other hose and stepped up on Ghost's other side, starting in on his legs without needing to ask. This was an old routine for us, as natural as blinking. Wake up, work, take care of what's ours. Let the silence stretch until it settled into companionship.

The water drummed on Ghost's coat as I scrubbed dried sweat and dirt from his knees, his hocks. Let my mind settle too, until the words came out slow and even. "Got a bit of a complication with that woman from last night."

Reid's hands stilled, just for a second. I waited, watched him from under the fall of tangled mane between us. His jaw had gone tight, eyes narrowed just a fraction. "The human."

"Yeah." I moved the hose up, let the spray soak into Ghost's mane as I finger-combed the long strands loose.

A slight lift of one dark eyebrow. Reid's version of a question.

"I don't think she's a threat. Scared, more than anything. Exhausted." I worked a stubborn burr free, flicked it to the damp concrete underfoot. "But she wants to work." Of course she did. Tough ones always tried to pay their way.

That got his attention. Reid straightened, shut off his hose and looped it over one sun-browned shoulder. "She know anything about ranching?"

I shook my head. "Doesn't seem like it. Her bag barely had anything in it. I'm amazed she even made it this far." Girl probably doesn’t even know what end of a pitchfork to hold.

"What the hell are we supposed to do with that?"

It was a fair question. This was a working ranch, not a charity home. And yet here I was, acting like I ran a damn shelter.

"Suppose she could help Midge with the cooking. Cleaning some tack. Organizing equipment, supply runs. There's always grunt work that needs doing." I rubbed the back of my neck. "I'm not aiming to make her a cowhand. Just not throw her out on her ass."

Reid was silent for another long moment, hands methodically scrubbing Ghost's legs dry with a ragged towel. I could practically hear him piecing it together, all the reasons this was a foolish idea.

Finally, he spoke, each word dropped like a stone. "You're bringing a human into the pack's space. You sure she's not running from something we should be wary of?"

I thought about that flash of desperation in her eyes. The way her body had gone wire-tight at every sound. She’d flinched when Midge clinked her coffee mug. "Yeah. And no."

Reid just looked at me, waiting.

"She's definitely running, but I don't think it's from the law. I think maybe she's hiding from something worse." I shut off my hose with a sharp twist. "Either way, both our dads would've let her stay."

"Fuck." The curse rode out on a sigh. "You're right." I didn't like being right. Not about this.

Our fathers had been like brothers, leading the ranch and the pack side by side for decades. Men of principle, no matter the cost. Reid knew that as bone deep as I did. Their friendship had spilled over onto us. I had a brother, but with Reid it was like having two.

We worked in silence again, a synchronized rhythm that came from years of partnership. Ghost lipped at the water pooling by his hooves, calm as a millpond.

Reid just grunted, grabbed a bucket of liniment, and turned toward the tack room. "She better learn fast." And not piss anyone off while she's at it.

As he walked away, my mind was already churning through the litany of chores perpetually undone. The financial strain that lay over the ranch like a shroud. That roof we'd lost in the spring storms that the insurance had weaseled out of, the head of cattle we still hadn't replaced. The books I pored over at night, trying to twist the numbers into a shape that would let us squeak by. If I stared hard enough at the math, maybe it’d blink first.

Small miracles, like Sloane's dividend checks that somehow arrived when the ledger dipped into the red. The investments she'd made a couple of years back had shored us up. She’d saved our asses more times than I cared to admit.

I hadn't told Grandma Midge how thin the margins really were.

This place, this pack, this family, they looked to me and had since my parents died twenty years ago, when I was sixteen. To keep us going, season after lean season. To lead and provide and dig deep, no matter how the dirt fought back. Most days I didn’t feel like an alpha. Just the guy trying to hold the damn fence together with twine and spit.

I couldn't solve all our problems. But maybe I could solve one of hers. Give her shelter, space to breathe, a chance.

It was the kind of choice my father would have made. He'd have opened the door before she knocked.