14
JESSE
AN OUTSIDE THREAT
“How many?” I bark into the phone.
“Three,” Clint says, exhaling in frustration.
“Mauled?”
“They tore out their throats.”
I wince at the image. “We need to get them out of the field.”
“Already on it. I’ve moved the rest of the herd away. They were standing around gawping at the corpses.”
Jesus. That’s a horrible image. “Will you and Maverick be able to handle this? I’m waiting for Mitch.”
“If we have to.” I grimace as I hang up the call. Things have been strained since my birthday dinner, which turned into a disaster. Beth kicked up a load of dirt and left everyone choking. Mitch and Barb are frankly disgusted. Beth thinks I’m gambling away our inheritance. Duncan is unhappy that his wife is unhappy. Clint and Maverick don’t appreciate the drama or stress, and Taylor is mortified. Hardly the recipe for happy families.
I dismount, securing Bristol to the nearest post. The bunkhouse door is open, and the scent of cleaning supplies wafts from inside.
“Taylor. You in there?”
“Yeah,” she calls. I make my way inside, finding everything looking great. The beds all have fresh blue bedding. The place has been dusted, swept, and mopped. The bathroom is practically sparkling.
Taylor’s wearing cut-off shorts and a green tank, and her hair is in a ponytail that swishes as she cleans a mirror. My cock thickens at the sight of her thighs and the memory of her sweet pussy.
Last night, she slept in Maverick’s bed.
Tonight, it’s my turn. If I tread carefully, that is.
Things are difficult between us all. Taylor feels responsible for the blowout on my birthday, even though I assured her it’s all on me. I should have been honest with my sister, but I didn’t want to hear all the reasons why what I want isn’t a good idea.
“Mitch will be here soon,” I say. “Is there anything else that needs to be done?”
“Just take the cleaning supplies outside,” she says.
“Okay.”
I grab the bin that contains the cleaning supplies and carry the mop and bucket towards the door. Outside, I tip the dirty water in a patch of dirt away from the bunkhouse. I don’t want anyone tramping dirty footprints inside to ruin Taylor’s hard work.
She emerges with window spray and a cloth in her hand, blowing wispy hairs away from her sweaty forehead. The weather is warm for hard work. I’m used to it, but Taylor seems to be struggling.
The rattle and rumble of a truck approaching on uneven ground draws our attention, and Taylor drops what she’s holding and rests her hands on her hips.
They’re about ten minutes earlier than I expected, but to be honest, we may as well get this show on the road. I push away a twinge of unease. I’ve got too many plates spinning at once, which makes me antsy.
The three young men emerge from the truck in a whirlwind of energy and foul language. Their disheveled appearance is pretty standard. The taller and shiftiest looking of the three trails his beady eyes over Taylor’s body before licking the corners of his pursed, dry lips. He reminds me of a malnourished weasel, the sort I’ve found in traps. As he breaks into a smile, the teeth he still has in his head are stained and chipped.
“Who’s this pretty?”
Taylor tenses, giving off panic signals. I rest my hand on her shoulder, feeling the tension there and hoping my closeness will go some way to reassure her she’s safe.
When Mitch exits his truck and introduces the latest recruits, his tone is off. His usual jovial, upbeat attitude has been replaced with awkward silence, and he avoids eye contact. He coughs and acknowledges Taylor with a tip of his hat. He must be pissed if he’s risking a negative first impression on these juveniles.
“This is Jesse, who owns Twin Springs Ranch, and will be your go-to if you have any questions. And this is Taylor, the wife of Clint who’s one of the other cowboys here. She’s to be treated with respect at all times. Any problems, Jesse will call me, and it will be dealt with in the same way that a misdemeanor is dealt with back at the penitentiary, okay?”
Two of the men nod, but the weasel’s only response is a slight twitch of his lips. Where Mitch would usually seek verbal agreement, today, he simply moves on.
“Brian, Michael, Tom. I know you won’t let me down.”
So, Brian is the weasel. Michael and Tom seem slightly more reserved, but I know better than to give any of them the benefit of the doubt until they’ve earned my trust. We’ve had a mixed bag of hard workers who are focused on learning what they can while they’re here and men who don’t know the meaning of hard work or respect.
Although Mitch selects them, it’s easier to behave when under tight restrictions. When there’s an element of freedom, people react differently. Tom has bright red hair and a spattering of rusty freckles to match. He has the healthiest appearance of the three and I notice that he’s strong and toned and looks ready for hard graft. Michael is stocky but too quiet for comfort. His thick, dark hair is cropped short, and he has a huge snake tattoo coiling from shoulder to shoulder around the back of his neck and visible above the collar of his relaxed-fit t-shirt. Taylor’s eyes flit between the three of them before she drops her gaze to her hands momentarily.
Mitch shifts uncomfortably, hauling the waistband of his pants up beneath his big belly. “I should be getting back.”
Taylor glances from one of us to the other, her expression pained, conscious of the tension between us. “Do you want to stay for coffee, Mitch? I’m heading back now. How about a bite to eat?” She touches her hair awkwardly under the hungry leer of our new hands. Her obvious vulnerability and unease make me want to sweep her up and keep her safe.
“That’s kind of you, Taylor, but I need to get back home. Barb and I have plans for the rest of the day, actually.”
“Okay.”
My heart aches watching her trying her best to put things right.
“How about tonight? A game of cards? Bring Barb,” I say.
“Thanks, but not tonight. I need to be off but let me know if anything needs my attention here.” He doesn’t wait for a response and is already lumbering back to his truck, forcing me to focus on his broad back as he retreats. We all watch him heft himself inside before the truck becomes a speck and then disappears out of sight.
I turn to Taylor, finding her eyes sad, then to the men who are watching everything with their laser focus, assessing for weaknesses they can exploit. My skin prickles.
“Let’s get you in. It’s all ready for you.”
“Hey, Tay. You look like a kid. What’ya doin’ shacking up with a cowboy already?”
I swivel around, narrowing my eyes at Brian. Rage threatens to spill, but I know that I can’t lose control with him at this point. “It’s Taylor to you. You’re here to work and to mind your own damn business, or I’ll get Mr. Lackey right back here to cart you off!”
“Yes, boss!” Brian’s dark smile and gruff, sarcastic tone are designed to enrage me further, but I don’t take the bait.
The shade of the bunkhouse is welcome after standing in the direct sun. Weasel emits a high-pitched whistle. “Will you look at this place? I don’t suppose Taylor wants to get us a few beers for a little welcome party.” He reaches out to high-five Taylor, and she almost responds, but then thinks better of it and leaves him hanging.
“Last warning, Brian. I’m serious!” With my finger almost in his face, he steps away, bending to pick up his bag where he had dropped it onto the floor.
“We’ll leave you to make yourselves comfortable. You can settle in now, and we’ll be out later this afternoon. The big stuff starts at the crack of dawn. I’ll come down with Clint and Maverick later, so you know what you’re expected to do.”
“Yes, boss!”
They’re tagged with tamper-proof trackers, so there’s no point in them trying to leave the ranch.
I’m going to have to find a way to block out this guy. He’s pushing my buttons, but I can’t lose my cool when Taylor is so clearly already feeling on edge. There’s a disturbance behind me, and Michael steps away too quickly for comfort.
“What the hell just happened, Taylor?”
She’s flushed red and clearly uncomfortable. “Nothing, it was nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. It was something.”
Taylor doesn’t respond but flees from the bunkhouse and is out of sight before I can stop her.
“Any of you lay a hand on that girl, and I promise you, I’ll knock you from here to Kingdom Come. God knows what Clint will do to you. You’ve been warned.”
Shaking with rage, I leave them behind. My priority has to be Taylor. When I catch up to her, tears are already streaming down her face.
“Taylor, stop!” I grab her shoulder and pull her into me. She sinks into my chest and trembles against my firm grip.
“Ssh, ssh, it’s all right. No one’s going to hurt you. I….we won’t let anyone touch you. You don’t need to have anything to do with them. They won’t ever come near the house. Okay?”
She tries to speak but her words are muffled as she presses herself further into my shirt. “What is it, Taylor?” I wait for her to compose herself, my heart pounding with a desire to take care of her and to protect her from all the darkness of the world.
“Can we just go back to the house? Please?”
“Come on. Maverick and Clint will be back soon. We’ll make sure that the ranch hands won’t trouble you.”
When Taylor pulls away, her eyes are glazed. She has been triggered by what just happened, and her reaction is more extreme than I would have expected unless she has prior trauma. I know Clint believes she does, but she’s too shut off to tell us the truth.
“I’ve got to ride back on Bristol. You can ride with me.”
We walk back to the bunkhouse in silence, and I mount Bristol before pulling her up to join me. Taylor nestles in front of me, and riding back to the house with her between my arms and legs feels like a slice of heaven. Clint brought her here this morning on Hermes, but he had to make a hasty exit.
She smells of peonies and roses, and at this moment, I hope that being close to me makes her feel safe. The silence is comfortable and companionable. But I know that we’ll have to have a difficult discussion because I realize that until I’m totally clear of what Taylor has been through in her past, the future will be something out of reach for all of us.