Chapter 11
Jesse
It was well before dawn when I was roused from my sleep by a deep voice and a hand on my shoulder.
“Jesse. Get up,” the voice grunted in the dark. “The cattle are waitin’.”
“What’re you talking about, Derek?” I asked, still half asleep and dreaming of simpler days. “C’mere.”
Grabbing my boyfriend’s hand, I pulled him into bed with me. His body was heavy on the mattress, making it creak, but I didn’t care. I just wrapped an arm around his waist and snuggled close, my leg snaking between his. I leaned forward, kissing the back of his neck. “Just a few more minutes.”
There was a long pause and for a moment I thought I’d made the entire thing up. Then the warmth against me shifted.
“Jesse. Let me go.”
Now that I thought about it, something about that voice didn’t sound like Derek. It was too deep.
“Jesse. Wake up.”
I cracked one eye open, seeing the mass of dark hair in front of me. And beyond it the same wallpapered walls of my childhood bedroom. The gears in my brain finally started to turn. Derek wasn’t here in Hell Creek. We’d been broken up for over two months now. So, who was in my bed?
“Will you let go of me, Jesse?”
Oh my god. It was Cole.
I released him like I’d been burned, scrambling backward until I hit the headboard. The room was still dark, but I could make out Cole’s silhouette as he stood up quickly, adjusting his shirt. His face was beet red.
“Fuck,” I muttered, mortification washing over me in waves. “Cole, I’m so sorry. I was dreaming—”
“Get dressed,” he cut me off, his voice tight. “We’re burnin’ daylight.”
He moved toward the door with quick steps but paused in the doorway. Even in the dim light, I could see how rigid his shoulders were, the tension radiating off him in waves.
“And Jesse?” he added without turning around.
“Yeah?”
“That never happened.”
The door closed behind him with a soft click, leaving me alone with my humiliation. I flopped back onto my pillow, covering my face with both hands.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I whispered into my palms.
Had I really just pulled my stepbrother into bed and kissed his neck?
I groaned, replaying the moment in my mind.
I’d even put my leg between his. And my cock was still rock hard from sleep.
There was no way he didn’t feel that with nothing but a sheet between us.
Jesus Christ. If Cole hadn’t been uncomfortable around me before, he sure as hell would be now.
Good thing I didn’t grind on him like I used to in order to wake up Derek.
Or had I? I couldn’t remember.
I forced myself to get up, fumbling for the lamp on my nightstand.
The clock read half past four. No wonder it was still pitch-black outside.
With clumsy fingers, I pulled on the warmest clothes I could find.
I put on thermal underwear beneath jeans, three layers of shirts topped with the old fleece, and thick wool socks.
My body moved on autopilot while my mind kept circling back to the mortifying encounter.
What must Cole be thinking right now? That I’d done it on purpose? That I was coming onto him? The thought made my stomach twist. I’d spent so much time trying to prove I could be professional, that I could work with him despite our history, and now this.
By the time I made it downstairs, Evelyn was already in the kitchen, packing food into saddlebags. Cole was nowhere to be seen.
“Morning, dear,” she said, glancing up at me. “Coffee’s hot.”
I poured myself a mug, wrapping my hands around it for warmth. “Where’s Cole?”
“Already in the barn, getting the horses ready.” She studied my face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“Just tired,” I lied, taking a sip of the scalding coffee. “Not used to these early mornings yet.”
Evelyn didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push. “Eat something before you go,” she said, sliding a plate of eggs and bacon toward me. “You’ll need your strength today.”
I forced down a few bites, though my stomach was in knots. Outside, I could hear the ranch hands gathering, their voices carrying through the pre-dawn stillness. Time was running out on my ability to hide in the kitchen.
“You can’t avoid him forever,” Evelyn said softly, her knowing gaze making me squirm in my seat.
I swallowed hard, nearly choking on my eggs. “I’m not avoiding anyone.”
“Sure you’re not.” She turned back to packing the saddlebags. “That’s why you’ve been staring at your plate like it’s the most fascinating thing in Montana.”
I set my fork down with a sigh. I trusted Evelyn. I knew I could talk to her about anything. “I just made things really awkward, Evelyn.”
“With Cole?” She didn’t even look surprised. “What’d you do this time?”
“Something stupid.” I rubbed my face, feeling the stubble I hadn’t bothered to shave. “He came to wake me up and I was half-asleep and thought he was... someone else.”
Evelyn’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh boy.”
“Yeah.” I drained my coffee, wishing it was something stronger. “And now I have to spend three days on the mountain with him sharing a tent.”
She patted my shoulder. “You boys have survived worse. I’m sure he’s already forgotten about it.”
Cole? Forget things? Right.
The cold hit me like a slap as I stepped outside. The sky was still dark, stars visible between patches of gathering clouds. My breath clouded in front of me as I made my way to the barn, each step feeling like I was walking to my own execution.
Inside, the barn was alive with activity.
Ranch hands moved with practiced efficiency, checking saddles and gear.
Cole stood at the far end, his back to me as he adjusted the cinch on a large chestnut horse.
I recognized it as Whiskey, one of the more reliable mounts on the ranch.
Next to him was a smaller bay mare I didn’t recognize.
I approached slowly, trying to formulate some kind of apology that wouldn’t make things worse. But before I could speak, Cole turned and thrust the mare’s reins toward me.
“This is Penny,” he said, his voice neutral, eyes focused somewhere over my shoulder. “She’s steady and knows the trail. Don’t yank on her and she’ll take care of you.”
I took the reins, our fingers carefully avoiding contact. “Thanks.”
Cole gave a curt nod, still not meeting my gaze. “We’re heading out in five. Check your saddle bags and make sure everything’s secure.”
With that, he turned and walked away, calling out instructions to the other hands. I stood there with Penny’s reins in my hand, feeling like an idiot. So, this was how it was going to be. Polite avoidance and pretending nothing had happened just like always. But maybe that was for the best.
Penny nudged my shoulder with her soft muzzle, as if sensing my discomfort. I patted her neck, grateful for the simple interaction.
“At least you’re not judging me,” I murmured, securing the saddlebags Evelyn had packed.
Mounting up was easier than I expected, muscle memory kicking in despite the years away. My body remembered the motion, the slight shift of weight as I settled into the saddle. What it didn’t remember was how hard saddles were on the ass. I shifted uncomfortably, already dreading the hours ahead.
Cole gave a sharp whistle, and the group began to move out of the barn yard.
I fell in line near the back, figuring it was best to stay out of the way.
The ranch hands rode with easy confidence, their bodies moving in rhythm with their horses.
I tried to mimic their posture, but I wasn’t sure I was getting it totally right.
I probably looked more like a fraud than ever.
The sky was just beginning to lighten as we rode out, a thin gray line appearing on the horizon.
The mountains loomed ahead, dark silhouettes against the predawn sky.
I kept my eyes fixed on them, focusing on staying upright in the saddle rather than on Cole’s broad shoulders a few riders ahead of me.
Was it the exhaustion and the loneliness or did he look more handsome than usual?
One of the ranch hands—Mitch, I thought his name was—fell back beside me after about twenty minutes of riding.
“First time back in the saddle in a while, huh?” he asked, his voice friendly enough.
“That obvious?” I grimaced as my tailbone hit the saddle on a particularly rough patch.
He chuckled. “Your face is givin’ you away. Don’t worry, everyone’s ass hurts on day one. Even Cole’s.”
I doubted that. Cole seemed born to the saddle, his body moving in perfect harmony with his horse as they navigated the rocky terrain.
I couldn’t help but admire the way he sat so effortlessly, the strength in his thighs as he guided his mount with barely perceptible movements.
God, why was I looking at his thighs now?
“I’ll live,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely convinced. “How long till we reach the herd?”
“Few hours,” Mitch replied. “They’re up in the high meadow. Weather’s been good, so they’ve been stayin’ put. Makes our job easier. Roundin’ them up and gettin’ them movin’ is the hard part.”
I nodded, grateful for any break we could get. My body was already protesting, muscles I’d forgotten I had screaming with each step Penny took. The cold morning air bit at my cheeks, making my eyes water. I pulled my scarf higher, wishing I’d thought to bring thicker gloves.
As we climbed higher, the landscape opened up around us.
Rolling hills gave way to steeper slopes dotted with pine and aspen.
The aspens were golden now, their leaves trembling in the morning breeze.
In another life, I might have stopped to appreciate the beauty, maybe even taken photos.
Now all I could think about was how many more hours I’d be in this saddle.
Cole called a brief halt at a creek crossing an hour later, allowing the horses to drink.
I dismounted awkwardly, my legs wobbling beneath me.
Walking felt strange after being on horseback, like I’d forgotten how my feet worked.
I led Penny to the water’s edge, watching as she dipped her muzzle into the clear, cold stream.
“You’re doing better than I expected,” came Cole’s voice from behind me.
I turned, surprised he was speaking to me at all after this morning’s debacle. He stood a few feet away, his own horse drinking beside him. His expression was unreadable, but at least he was looking at me now.
“Thanks, I think,” I replied cautiously.
He adjusted his hat, squinting up at the sky. “Storm’s coming in faster than the forecast said. Might need to push the pace if we want to get the herd moving before it hits.”
I followed his gaze to the western sky where dark clouds had gathered over the mountains. They could only mean one thing. Snow.
“Is it gonna be bad?” I asked, my gaze still fixed on those clouds.
“Could be,” Cole said, his eyes narrowing as he studied the clouds. “Hard to tell from here, but those are moving fast.”
I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very out of my element. The prospect of being caught in a snowstorm on horseback while trying to herd cattle down a mountain wasn’t exactly how I’d planned to spend my day.
“I’m not really dressed for snow,” I admitted.
Cole’s gaze dropped to my clothing, assessing. “There’s extra gear in your saddlebags. Evelyn packed you a proper coat and some waterproof gloves.” His lips twitched slightly. “She figured you wouldn’t know what you needed.”
A rush of gratitude for Evelyn washed over me. “She always did know best.”
“Still does,” Cole replied, then whistled sharply to the other hands. “Five minutes, then we ride hard. Storm’s pushing in.”
As the others hurried to finish watering their horses, Cole hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something more. I braced myself, certain he was going to mention this morning’s embarrassing incident.
Instead, he just said, “Stay close to Mitch. He’ll help you if you get into trouble.”
I nodded, surprised by what almost seemed like concern. “I will.”
When we mounted up again, my muscles protested even more fiercely than before. The brief rest had only served to remind my body how unaccustomed it was to riding. But I gritted my teeth and followed the group as we set off at a faster pace, determined not to be the weak link.
The terrain grew steeper, the trail narrowing as we climbed higher into the mountains. Pine trees closed in on either side, their branches occasionally slapping against my legs as Penny navigated the path. The air grew thinner, making my breathing more labored, though the horses seemed unaffected.
“You hanging in there?” Mitch called back to me after we’d been riding for another hour.
“Barely,” I admitted, shifting in the saddle to try to relieve the ache in my tailbone. “How much farther?”
“We’re getting close,” he replied, pointing ahead to where the tree line began to thin. “High meadow’s just beyond that ridge.”
As we crested the ridge, the landscape opened up before us.
A vast alpine meadow stretched out, dotted with hundreds of black and brown shapes.
It was our cattle, grazing peacefully against a backdrop of snow-capped peaks.
In another context, it might have been a postcard image of Montana beauty.
But the dark clouds were now directly overhead, and I could feel the temperature dropping by the minute.
Cole had ridden ahead and was now conferring with two other hands who had been staying with the herd the past couple of days. They gestured toward the cattle and then to the sky, their expressions serious. When Cole turned back toward us, his face was grim.
“Change of plans,” he announced as we gathered around. “Storm’s movin’ in too fast and I don’t want any casualties in a blizzard. We’re leavin’ the cattle here and settin’ up camp now. Let’s shelter up on the eastern side to stay out of the wind.”
I felt my stomach drop. This was all my fault. I was the one that convinced him to postpone the cattle drive to help cover the cost of the freezer. And now, before we even got started, things were bad. This was why ranchers didn’t wait until November to bring their cattle down from the mountains.
I turned to Cole, opening my mouth to apologize. But the words never came out as the wind picked up and I turned my gaze skyward. My breath fogged heavily in front of me as the storm arrived.
Snow had begun to fall.