Kitabı oxu: «Rocky Mountain Hero»
“Having fun?”
“The best.” Melanie squinted into the sun.
“I’m glad.” Gabe was glad to see her smile. “This tree swing has quite the reputation around here.”
“Oh, really? What does it do?”
Gabe stared into the most incredibly blue eyes he’d ever seen. A blush from the sun settled on her cheeks and a smattering of light freckles dusted over her nose. He swallowed and tried to find his voice. “It makes people throw caution to the wind.”
A light sparked in her eye and he thought he saw her wink. “Me? Throw caution to the wind? Not in a million years.”
Gabe offered Melanie a hand up. Her fingers were warm in his palm. They locked gazes and couldn’t look away. His insides churned.
Then her son Jason ran up and wrapped his arms around her. “You were great!” He turned toward Gabe. “Will you push me, Gabe?”
Gabe nodded. Melanie looked away, breaking the spell between them. She ruffled Jason’s hair.
“Okay. Just once.” She glanced back again with a shy smile. “Then my turn.”
All Gabe could do was nod.
AUDRA HARDERS
moved to Colorado when she was nine years old and sees no reason to leave the state she loves. Her parents held out as long as they could, but eventually bought a horse for her when she was in seventh grade. Didn’t matter that she was allergic to everything under the sun, especially horses. She’d feed, brush and ride that horse until the sneezing and itching drove her to the showers. Today you’ll find her undergoing allergy shots so she can enjoy all the wonders living in Colorado offers—including riding horses without sneezing.
In fourth grade, she met the most obnoxious little boy in Sunday school—he ended up becoming the love of her life. Talk about overcoming conflict! They’ve been married more than twenty years and she can’t imagine life without her best friend. They have two grown children, and share their Front Range home with three dogs, various sheep, goats, chickens, a fifteen-pound rabbit and a guard turkey.
Rocky Mountain Hero
Audra Harders
MILLS & BOON
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And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.
—Romans 8:28
To my mom and dad who encouraged me to read and write my entire life.
To my Grammy who always told me everything is possible when you put your faith in the Lord.
To my husband, Gary. Thanks for your faith in me, and for putting up with all the burned burgers on the grill and the unmatched socks in the basket.
I love you.
To my children, Kara and Martin. May you realize your dreams are within your grasp when you place your faith in the Lord.
Thank you my Lord Jesus Christ for listening to my prayers all these years. Without You, my dreams would have been nothing but ashes.
Acknowledgments
Leslie Ann Sartor, I would’ve given up a long time ago if not for you and your incredible enthusiasm. Theresa Rizzo, you made movie nights and writing retreats an adventure I’ll never forget. All the Seekers who have supported and advised me through the ups and downs of contests and rejections. The Lord knew what He was doing when he brought the 15 of us together.
Connie Rinehold, Narcy Hogan, and Janet Edgar. Each of you saw something in my writing that made you reach out and keep me on track. Thanks for stepping up and making a difference.
Extra special thanks to Melissa Endlich for scooping me off the Island and making my dreams come true.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Letter to Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
“C’mon! Just a few more gates!” Jason Hunter shook his video game. Beeps and twangs filled the air.
“Jason, shaking it won’t make the game go faster.” Melanie Hunter flicked her gaze between the dirt road and her eight-year-old son. Along one side, rocks and pines lined the steep grade. On the other side, soft road base rimmed along a slope scorched by wildfire burn. In the middle, nothing but rough washboard dirt.
Her tire hit a bump. She clutched the steering wheel. Maybe she should have just dealt with the road construction on the interstate instead of threading around on smaller roads. With all the recent rain, the county road drove more like an all-terrain vehicle track. “Honey, sit back. I can’t see.”
Jason dropped the game onto his lap. “The batteries died and I was winning.”
“We don’t have too much farther to go. I’ve heard there’s a ski area up here somewhere.”
“It’s summertime, Mom. You can’t ski in June.”
“No, but Twin Buttes has lots of stuff to do even if it’s not snowing. We’ll stop there, have lunch and poke around the town.” The frown on his face said he wasn’t buying into the plan. She leaned over and bumped his shoulder. “I’ll bet we can get batteries there, too.”
“Whatever. Couldn’t you have found a job closer to home?”
Melanie sighed and straightened in her seat. Not a job like this. If she got the analyst position in Montrose doing research on high-altitude seeds and plants, she wouldn’t be putting in the long hours at the lab like she was now. Sure, Colorado Springs was a nice city, but it was hard for her to make ends meet on her single-mom budget. Besides, Montrose offered small-town living in the Colorado Mountains. Surely she’d find something to distract Jason from video games and get him outside playing. He needed fresh air and other kids, not dark rooms and Mario Brothers’ parties.
Jason dug into his backpack, pulled out a cord and aimed the plug of his video game unit at the dashboard. He missed the cigarette lighter receptacle and hit the heater knob. “Quit driving over the bumps, Mom!”
Seeing a clear stretch ahead, she leaned over and grabbed the power cord from his hand. She’d find distractions for him later; right now, she needed to concentrate on driving. The truck shimmied in the mud. She jammed the plug into the socket and carnival music came alive from the player. “Jason, sit back.”
“Mom! Watch out!”
The nose of her truck headed toward the slope crest. Jerking the steering wheel, she swerved away from the embankment. Mud and gravel splattered across the windshield as the pickup shimmied across the road toward a gigantic boulder. She yanked the wheel in the other direction, fishtailing the truck.
They skidded toward another boulder at the edge of the slope, the rough and chipped face looming fast. The front corner of her truck crumpled into solid rock, stopping their uncontrolled slide. Her head hit the side window with a thud.
A shrill whistle filled the cab of the truck. She blinked. Jason sat dazed.
Sixth grade…that was as far as she’d gotten. She drew a shallow breath, glad her entire twenty-nine years hadn’t flashed before her eyes.
She wrapped her arms around Jason and squeezed tight. “You all right, big guy?”
“Um hm.” Wide-eyed, he stared out the cracked windshield. Seconds passed before he wiggled out of her embrace. He dumped his video game onto the floor and peered over the dashboard, his hand working his door handle with no success. “Cool. This is better than Cave Raiders any day. Look! Smoke and everything!”
Melanie lifted her fingers to massage the bump on her forehead. Cool wasn’t exactly the word she’d use right now.
His seat belt already unsnapped, Jason scooted to the edge of the bench seat, taking in the entire mountain scene.
He plastered his nose to the passenger window. “Bet this hill makes a great sledding track in the winter.” He reached across her for the door handle. “Let me out. I want to see how much truck we have left.”
“The truck is fine.” Melanie ruffled his sandy blond hair searching for blood. Satisfied he’d live, she smiled at the long-lost excitement in his eyes. She hoped the interview tomorrow paid off. She wanted more adventure for both of them.
She squeezed his shoulder. “It’ll take more than a bump to keep us down.”
Unbuckling her seat belt, she leaned into the door. Gravity worked against her. She shoved until the door groaned open. Her foot sank ankle deep into the rut. Mud oozed over the top of her boot to her toes.
Jason bumped the door wider. Losing her balance, she rolled off the seat as she wrenched around to grab the door frame. Her other foot slid beneath the truck. With all the grace of a worn-out mattress, Melanie hit the road square on her back and slid a good foot beneath the truck before her boot wedged between a couple rocks. Gravel and water soaked her arms and back. Her bottom sank into the mud, burying her legs.
“You all right?” Jason leaned out and looked around. “You’re a mess.”
“Thanks.” She swiped her hair out of her eyes.
Jason launched over the worst of the puddle and landed on the high spot of the road. He squatted beside the rear axle and examined her like an unfamiliar specimen. “You just needed to jump out farther, Mom.”
“Thanks, Jay. I’ll remember that next time.”
An engine rumbled in the distance. Jason bolted to the middle of the road. “I’ll flag ’em down. Maybe they can pull us off the cliff.”
Melanie squinted over the edge. “It’s not a cliff.”
“Close enough.” Jason waved his arms in the direction of the noise.
“Gabe, look up ahead.”
Gabe Davidson glanced up from his clipboard. His cousin pointed at a pickup truck alongside the road. From where Gabe sat, he would have said the truck wasn’t going anywhere soon. “Don’t recognize it.”
“Can’t say the truck or the kid or the blonde are from around here.” Hank downshifted and slowed.
“Fishtailed right into the rock.” Grooved tracks left ruts inches deep. “The boys from county won’t be happy when they have to come up and fix this.”
The boy waved his arms at them. Hank pulled over and cut the engine.
Gabe checked his watch. The vet closed in half an hour. He fingered the list he’d scribbled on the scrap piece of paper. If he waited until tomorrow, he’d have to take a chance the vet stocked the medication he needed, since no one at the animal clinic was answering their phone, or else double back and drive into Gunnison.
He glanced at the boy, the angle of the truck and the woman wedged partway under the running board. He ground his jaw as uncomplimentary thoughts of Nick and Zac swirled through his head. Times like this, he really wished his brothers were around to help. Propping the clipboard with his list on top of the dash, Gabe shoved at his door. “Let’s go pull ’em out.”
“Hey mister,” the boy called, as he jumped. “I think my mom’s stuck.”
“Are you okay?” Hank took off toward the boy while Gabe headed for the woman. The rock, the crushed front end of the pickup and the entire back end of the vehicle sat perched at an angle. No telling what the truck would do.
“Need help?” Mud covered her from head to toe. Gabe stared into blue eyes the color of mountain columbines in full bloom and lashes as thick as the foxtails that grew around them. Blond hair played across her cheek.
“No, I’ve got it.” The palm of her hand sank up to her wrist.
He bent over and grasped her shoulders, her muscles firm within his palms. A spear of awareness shot through him as he found a grip and began to pull. The mud packed around her like a wallow sucking her hostage. As she began to slide free, she kicked her feet against the embankment.
The road base shifted beneath his feet. His hold tightened. “Be still.”
Her last kick must have hit a rock. She pushed up, relieving the tension in his pull. Momentarily. The rock worked loose beneath her foot and she sank back into place.
Gabe fought for balance as he teetered on the edge. No use. He tucked his shoulders as he rolled into the mud bog with her. His elbow trenched a rut behind her and she slammed up against his chest.
Spitting mud out of her mouth, she smeared her face with her hand. “Oh goodness.” She squirmed to the side. “You okay?”
His hat lay inverted between them, the crown crushed against her ribs. He followed the line of her muddy T-shirt sleeve to her mud-matted ponytail. Her eyes sparkled wide as he drew close. “I told you to stop moving.”
“I could’ve gotten out by myself.” Her breathless voice warmed his cheek.
He swiped his hand down his face, as much to wipe away mud as to break his stare. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
She shimmied up the bank using the top of his boot as a foothold. “The road is in lousy condition.”
“Yeah, well.” Her smooth arm pressed against his chest, making simple thought difficult. “The Gunnison County road crew won’t be happy about this, either.”
She stiffened beside him. “This road is a disaster.”
“Not if your speed is appropriate for the road condition.”
She looked at him as if he’d grown another head. “What’s the speed limit for horrendous?”
Gabe shoved his palm into packed road base. Confrontational wasn’t what he needed right now. Luckily, Hank crouched down beside them before Gabe said something he’d have to apologize for.
“Ma’am, are you all right? Gabe isn’t the daintiest creature to have land in your lap.”
“Hank, get us out.” Gabe needed to move, not make small talk. He leaned over her, caught her waist and pushed her up the side of the rut.
With Hank pulling, she popped out of the ditch and stumbled a good three feet from the truck. Hank offered a hand, and Gabe scrambled out from beneath the truck. Standing beside the muddy mess of a woman, Gabe regretted his moment of anger. Her woebegone look said it all.
“Sorry about getting you dirty.” Her shoulders slumped as she reached out and swiped at his sleeve. “I appreciate the help. Our truck ran into a little problem—”
“Yeah, you should’ve seen it, mister.” The boy ran into the middle of the group. “Mom really carved an arc in the mud!”
Color glowed from beneath the grime on her face. “Jason, shush. We just took the turn a little fast, and, well—” she shrugged in the direction of the truck “—as you can see we’re—”
“Wrecked.” Jason grinned with pride.
She frowned. “I was going to say, ‘stuck.’”
Hank laughed and swept off his hat. “Hank Barrett, at your service, ma’am. I’m the foreman of the Circle D spread just down the road.”
She took a step back and drew Jason beside her, angling her shoulder in front of him. Her protective gesture goaded Gabe even worse for his earlier irritation.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Barrett. I’m Melanie Hunter and this is my son, Jason.” She nodded toward her crumpled fender and hood. “Any capable mechanics around?”
“We can probably round one up.” The top of her head barely cleared his chin as Gabe took quick stock of her for injury. Wide eyes and sun-pinkened nose didn’t detract from the apprehension in her tight lips. A dripping T-shirt encased her slender frame like shrink wrap around a gasket. Long legs braced; trim arms flexed. A muddy mess, but no blood in sight. “Gabe Davidson. I own the Circle D. You’re not from around here.”
She gave him the once-over, her arm tightening across her son. “Just passing through. Folks are expecting us in Montrose by tomorrow.”
He gripped the misshapen hat against his thigh. Hard to tell what she thought of him, and frankly, he couldn’t say he was very proud of his manners. He respected her reserve, considering her situation, and he extended his hand as much in apology as welcome.
Her slim fingertips slipped into his huge palm, the layer of mud between them unable to fully insulate the warm, soft texture of her skin. Heat raced up his arm like a jolt from an electric fence. “That’s a long way to call a cab. I don’t suppose you have a backup plan? Someone to pick you up?”
She shook her head.
“Some guy out there needs my mom to look at their plants.” Jason puffed his chest. “Mom’s great with bugs, too.”
Gabe released her hand and hunkered eye level with Jason, thankful for the distraction. “Bugs, huh? And what are you a specialist in, Bud?”
A cheek-splitting grin displayed teeth too big for the boy’s face. “I’m great at Thrill of the Chase and Raiders of the Hidden Caverns. My games are in the truck.”
Gabe grinned. A kid after his own heart. “Are you now? Any good at Wheels and Karts?”
Melanie groaned beside them.
Jason ignored his mom, his eyes growing round. “Wheels and Karts? Cool. I don’t have that game. I’ll show you what I’ve got. I need my backpack.” He shot over to the stranded truck.
Melanie slopped her foot around in the mud. “Jason, I doubt you’ll have time to play games with Mr. Davidson. We’ve got to get going, remember?”
A shadow dimmed his bright eyes as he worked the door handle. “Yes, Mom.”
“Mr. Davidson—” Her gaze darted between him and Jason.
“Gabe,” he corrected. He kept his eye on the boy. The ground at the edge of the road had become unstable. Tough telling what might happen.
Jason continued yanking on the jammed door handle, the entire truck rocking under the force.
Melanie turned toward Jason. The mud around her shoes acted like quicksand, keeping her glued in place. “Hey big guy, get back here before—”
The crisp creak of metal filled the air as the truck shifted with a clunk, the front bumper pointing over the edge of the embankment. Gabe swallowed the knot in his throat and sprinted toward the truck.
Chapter Two
Leaving her boots in the mud, Melanie leapt toward the truck just as Jason cried out. Gabe scooped up Jason a second before she reached his side.
Like a walrus slipping into the sea, the truck sank over the edge and slid down the side, the locked wheels creating a muddy channel down the charred slope. The pickup bounced a couple times and came to a halt on a level plane just inches from the next slope.
“Wow.” Jason strained to see over the edge. Gabe held on, his arm wrapped around Jason’s shoulders. Melanie threw her arms around them both, tugging at what had to be six foot plus of solid cowboy until they all stepped back. Her heart pounded like a ten-pound sledgehammer and her knees went weak. Jason squirmed.
When her nerves stilled, she released her captives and offered Gabe a weak smile. “Sorry. Thank you.” She tried to smile. “I guess it’s your turn to play hero for all of us today.”
He didn’t answer. He just stared at the truck and nodded. Flecks of mud splattered his dark brown hair, but not enough to hide the sun-kissed streaks. His tan work shirt streaked with mud clung to his broad shoulders and along the corded muscles of his back. He turned and glanced at her. The unusual shade of his eyes reminded her of her favorite root beer Popsicle, a dark shade of brown shot with spikes of gold. Only this brand of treat came complete with dense, arched brows drawn over thick black lashes. Her stomach knotted at the complete picture of male irritation he presented.
She’d overstepped her bounds. She didn’t usually hug strange men. She didn’t really hug men at all.
Jason twisted away and frowned at the truck. “Can I go get my games now?”
Melanie stared down the mountainside. Her truck, the only dependable thing in her life, stuck at the bottom of a mud slide. A dull ache built around the bump on her head. The games weren’t going anywhere—and neither were they, for that matter.
Gabe cleared his throat. “Hank, call RJ and Manny. Ask them to come up here and haul the truck down to the parts barn. Manny can get a good look at it there.”
“I’m on it.” Hank headed back to their pickup.
Parts barn? That sounded way too involved for her liking. She’d already ruined the man’s shirt. “We don’t want to trouble you. I’ll call a mechanic about the damage. Maybe the garage could send a tow?”
“We’ll pull it out for you.” His brows furrowed as he studied her truck. “If your husband’s good with tools, it would probably be better to do a bit of home garage tinkering.”
Jason hung his head and kicked at a clot of road base. “I don’t have a dad.”
Melanie fought her cringe. Even if Paul had stuck around, she knew breaking things was more his forte than repairing. Especially promises, dreams and hearts. Stiffening her backbone, she squeezed her son’s shoulder and urged him toward a felled tree across the road. “Jason, do me a favor, okay? Go see if Mr. Davidson has a pine beetle problem.”
Jason wrinkled his nose before darting across the road. She turned back to Gabe. “Mr. Davidson, if you could just give me the telephone number of a station in town?”
He tilted his head as he looked down the slope. “I doubt the boys in town will know what to do with a vehicle they can’t hook up to a diagnostic machine.” He shot her a weary look. “And the name’s Gabe.”
“They’ll be up as soon as they finish the gate.” Hank shut the door behind him. “When I told Manny what we had here, he couldn’t hang up the phone quick enough. He’ll have your truck fixed in no time, ma’am.”
Melanie faltered, the reality of her situation setting in. “Wait. I have to get to Montrose. I can’t just stop here.”
“You have a better plan?” Guessing he knew her answer, he turned and walked back to his pickup. “It’ll be tight, but the two of you can squeeze in the backseat of the cab.”
Her shoulders sagged as she grabbed her boots out of the rut and hobbled after him, the mud soaking through her socks and squishing between her toes. This wasn’t happening. All because of dead video game batteries and a washed-out road, her dreams of a new beginning for her and Jason were slipping away on a mud slick of their own.
Reaching down into the truck bed, he pulled out a blanket and handed it to her. “Here.”
He shrugged into a rain slicker while she wrapped the blanket over her shoulders and pulled the front ends together in her fists. Not pretty, but at least she’d protect the backseat from too much mud.
A squeal echoed from across the road. Jason had found an unscorched lodgepole pine, his shimmy already placing him halfway to the top. A few more branches up and he’d be eye to eye with a squirrel.
“Jason.” She waved her arm back and forth. “Come down so we can go.”
He slid down between the branches and, with a short leap, hit the ground. She snagged him as he tried to run past and pointed him toward the ranch truck. His mouth fell open. “What if someone steals my games out of Ol’ Blue?”
Gabe stepped up beside him and stared at the bright yellow pickup. With a smudged knuckle, he rubbed the bottom of his jaw. “Ol’ Blue?”
Melanie shifted her weight. A stone dug into her bare foot. Before she could answer, Jason brightened. “Mom bought it blue and had it painted, but the name kinda stuck.”
Gabe stared at the vehicle and then, tilted his head to view the slope it had slid down. A faint crease in his cheek appeared as he nodded in understanding. “I see. Stuck.”
Following his gaze, the meaning of his words hit home.
She was stuck. In the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by strangers. And no one to call for help.
She couldn’t even pay for repairs on her truck beyond a flat tire.
The exhilaration she’d awakened with that morning at the thought of creating a new and better life for her and Jason now sank away in the tracks of the old yellow truck leading to the bottom of the muddy slope. A sick lump settled in her stomach.
So close. She’d been so close to holding her dream.
Lord, what do you want from me?
Gabe stared out the window of the truck as Hank drove the dirt lane to the ranch house. Fence repairs demanded attention, the cattle were nowhere near sorted, and Zac waited for reports Gabe hadn’t finished. If his day unraveled any more, he’d be sitting down to dinner when the rooster crowed in the morning.
On top of that, the responsibility of the auction raced through his head. He glanced down at his watch and wiped the dirt off the dial. One-thirty. A chance he’d make it to town before Doc Hutchins left on his rounds hung by a slim thread. He shifted against the seat of the truck, pressing against the spot on his lower back where Melanie had caught him in her embrace. For a moment, the urge to wrap his arm around both of them and keep them safe had swept over him. How could a man prepare for a zinger like that?
How did he recover?
Gabe caught sight of Melanie in the rearview mirror, her eyes wide and cheeks stained with color beneath the dirt. Nerves danced in his shoulder at the memory of her soft arm pressed against him as they sat stuck in the rut beneath the truck. With his weight, he could have hurt her when his foot slipped and he’d tumbled down beside her. And then she’d asked if he was okay.
Elbow propped against the window, Gabe slumped his jaw against his knuckles. Wildfires, reduced stock and limited pasture—he’d thought he’d pretty much run the course of God’s plagues.
He’d thought wrong.
The truck turned the bend and broke out of the trees into the ranch compound. A yellow Labrador retriever barked as they pulled up in front of the house. Gabe opened his door and caught a handful of scruff as the dog barreled over him, planting muddy paws across his lap and flopping against Hank. Gabe nabbed the wagging tail before wet dog hair plastered the dashboard. “Fletcher, down.”
The dog tilted his head, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth in a pant. He pawed the wheel and a sharp blast of the horn filled the air. Gabe pointed at the ground. “Out.”
Fletcher scrambled back over his lap, launched off the seat and trotted toward the open door of the ranch office.
“Does he bite?” a small voice called from the back.
Gabe looked over at the boy with blond hair and blue eyes just like his mother’s. “Not unless you’re dinner.”
A smile broke out across the kid’s face. “Cool. I like dogs. Can I go play with him?”
“You bet, if—”
Jason shot through the open door faster than a squirrel after the last nut of the season. Melanie tried to catch him, but too late. “Jason, wait.”
Her brows drawn, she angled her chin toward the open door. As she puffed out a breath, the family resemblance between mother and son solidified in Gabe’s mind.
Hank laughed. “That boy has more energy than a coon-hound on scent.”
“He’s been cooped up for three hours in a truck.” Melanie clutched the blanket ends together.
“He’s a boy, ma’am.” Hank cut the engine and climbed out of the truck.
“Every inch of him, I’m afraid.” She dropped back against the seat.
Gabe unlatched the door and swung around. Melanie sat squinting into the sun, making her look more like a wistful little girl than the mom of a rambunctious boy. No woman had the right to look so feminine with mud streaked across her face and an army blanket clutched to her chin. He shoved his door wide. “Welcome to the Circle D.”
Angling out of his seat, he held the door open with his knee and offered a hand. Melanie pulled the edges of the blanket tighter. Gabe tugged the slicker over his head and tossed it in the back of the truck.
The kitchen door opened. “Gabe? Manny said someone had a wreck on the ridge?” His mom stepped out, cup and towel in her hand. Setting them down, she hurried across the yard to the truck. Her brows shot up as she gave him a quick once-over. “What happened to you?”
“Bad road.” Mud coated his back making him feel like a moth outgrowing his cocoon. He needed a shower. His guests probably wanted one, too.
“Hmm, mighty big puddle.” Grace Davidson trained her keen eyesight on the newcomers. “Anything serious?”
“Just a little dent. Nothing Manny can’t fix.”
Melanie snagged her foot on the edge of the blanket as she slid out of her seat. The rough wool tangled around her bare ankle, throwing her off balance. Gabe circled her waist with his arm and bent down to loose the fabric. Skin as soft as the belly of a newborn foal grazed his rough fingertips.
Melanie glared at him. She bit her lip and grabbed at the blanket edge beneath her foot. Her ear pressed against his jaw. “Meet Grace Davidson, my mother.”
“Welcome to the Circle D.” She tilted her head and gave Melanie a high brow. “Though by the looks of it, our welcome isn’t too warm.”
Fishing out from beneath the blanket, Melanie held out her hand. “Sorry to be a bother. Our truck had a little incident.”
The clang of steel fence panels from the loading corrals beside the barn filled the air. Gabe twisted around to see a muscular Charolais bull pace the perimeter of the pen, his furry, white head butting the rails every few feet. Charolais stock on a whole had reasonable dispositions. Just his luck to get the exception to the rule. Ol’ Milk River just hadn’t been able to put his rodeo life behind him.
Gabe pushed past them and ran across the compound, every muscle in his body strung tight as a new line on an old pole. The top rail of the pen rattled and he prayed the posts around the corral held in place.
“Hank. Grab the rope.” He swept his hat in the air over the bull. “Manny! Open the chute!” He yelled at the bull butting his head against the dented fence panel. If the Charolais broke loose, no telling what—or who—he’d tear up. Another slam against the panel and Gabe lost his foothold on the rail. Snagging at the top post, he held tight, bracing for Milk River to slam into him again.
