Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
MADDOX
I’ll never fall in love again. It sounds dramatic as fuck, and I halfway want to turn the brand I’m using on the new horses on myself instead.
It wouldn’t exactly raise eyebrows. A lot of cowboys had brands from their ranch—Colt, for example.
Granted, those were done with hot irons and this one was being dipped in liquid nitrogen, but I’m sure it’d do what I needed it to do.
Normally, I wouldn’t consider something so stupid, but I also normally wouldn’t let myself chase the skirt of a woman who clearly didn’t want me.
For thirty-two years, I’ve avoided shit like this.
I’ve had occasional girlfriends and submissives, and I’ve cared about them, but I’ve never loved them.
It was rare enough that I found someone I was interested in sharing a bed with, and Austin was the first person I’ve ever felt the need to ignore my responsibilities for and chase.
When Kenny pulled up after brunch without Austin’s pickup rolling in behind her, stomping up the stairs of the Big House and slamming the door behind her, I gathered that I wouldn’t be seeing my red-haired spitfire again today.
When my texts and calls went unanswered, I figured she was just throwing a bit of a tantrum—run of the mill for us, even if it was exhausting.
But Kenny was crying when I went up to the house for lunch and she couldn’t even look me in the eye.
It didn’t take a college degree to figure out something had gone wrong during their brunch, and Austin’s silence suddenly made a lot more sense to me.
If I’d driven a wedge between them, she wasn’t throwing a tantrum. She was probably done with me.
My texts start going undelivered and my call goes straight to voicemail, telling me she’s turned her phone off, so I decide to work today after all. Hence the mare in front of me and the branding iron I’m considering using on myself just to have something on my mind other than Austin Taylor.
“Are you planning on branding the horse before she gets pissed off or is Tyler gonna get to try his hand at bronc riding today?”
“Tyler ain’t trying his hand at shit regardless of how long your brother stares at the damn brand,” he answers Tate before looking at me. “Even I can tell it’s ready, boss.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumble, jerking my chin at Tyler to let him know to brace himself and the mare.
In the few seconds it takes to set the brand, Tatum does her magic at the mare’s head, cooing praise and petting her while Tyler holds his boot against her hoof and keeps her steady against the stable wall.
Freeze-branding doesn’t hurt anywhere near as bad as a hot iron, but this is one of the newer horses that Jameson bought back at the end of March.
We have limited information on what may cause her to panic, so it’s always best to be careful, though Tate assured me the mare didn’t need to be put in a chute for it.
I trust my sister’s opinions on horses more than anyone else in the world, even cowboys three times her age who’ve been doing this their whole lives.
She just has a way with them and always has.
She was right, as she almost always is, and the horse’s ears barely twitched back through the fifteen seconds the brand sat against her hindquarters. Tyler counts under his breath for me, helping ensure I don’t leave it too long and risk hurting the horse.
“Fifteen,” he says, louder than the numbers before it, and I pull the brand away.
“Good girl, Calamity,” Tatum coos and I huff, setting the brand back down in the liquid nitrogen tank.
“We’re not calling her that.”
“That’s her name,” she replies, leading the horse back toward her stall. “Bad luck to rename a horse.”
“I’ve renamed tons of horses. That’s a myth.”
“And yet, Tyler and I were dragged away from our movie to urgently brand horses we’ve already had for two months because Jamie’s running the ranch today and you don’t have anything else to distract yourself from your spat with your girlfriend.
” I lock my jaw at the blatant callout. “Sounds like bad luck to me,” she sings, and it echoes through the barn as she puts the reins on the next horse.
I huff, knocking my boot against the wall to get a clump of cow shit off the bottom just for something to combat the silence between Tyler and I. “If it helps, I really hated the movie we were watching, so I appreciate the distraction.”
My snort is almost drowned out by the sound of the next horse’s hooves clacking against the concrete as Tate retrieves it from its stall around the corner. “Didn’t look like you hated it.”
Tyler just hums with a grin that makes me want to kick him in the nuts. Both because I have a love-hate relationship with that sort of smile being on the face of a man I know wants my sister in a more-than-friendly way, but also because I’m just really fucking jealous.
The sun had set and I’d officially run out of piddly shit to do.
I purposefully made my shower take longer than usual, but now I’m clean and sitting in front of a fire I’d only set to try and drown out the silence of the cabin.
Had my evenings always been this boring? Has my cabin always been this still?
My phone rings in the other room. After a long day of checking it way too many times for apparently no reason, the battery was lower than usual so I’d left it on the charger.
I hoped some separation would help, but by the way I’m clambering out of the chair and damn near running to it, it’s clear the separation did fuck-all.
The last person I expect to see calling me is my sister’s ex-boyfriend.
“If this is your one phone call, you’ve wasted it, Cartwright.”
He snorts. “I’d waste the call listening to Bailey’s pretty voice cursing me out before I wasted it on you, Whittaker.”
“Whatcha need?” I ask him, getting to the point.
I didn’t see a point in burning bridges with the only veterinarian in town, but that didn’t mean I wanted to shoot the shit with him either.
At the end of the day, he was still the man that cheated on my sister and turned her so cold.
I used to judge her for that, but now that I was on the receiving end of this pining bullshit, I could sort of see the appeal of the attitude she’d adopted.
“Been going back and forth all evening on whether I wanted to bring this up or not, ‘cause I think Bailey will have my dick on a platter for the assumption you’re gonna make on how I know about you and the bartender, but I’ve had a sick feeling in my gut ever since I saw her this afternoon and I think it’s better you know. ”
“Know what?” The same sick feeling he’s had sinks into my stomach, too. I take a seat on the edge of the bed and my mind races through a thousand things he might be gearing up to tell me.
Had Austin skipped town without saying goodbye?
Did he see her with someone else? We weren’t exactly exclusive, according to her, but it would still suck.
Chase sighs and I imagine him running a hand over his face like the few times he’s had to give me bad news about one of my cattle.
“Her dad came into the bar tonight. Drunk as shit, but I think he may’ve been high, too.
I didn’t get to hear what they were talking about, but he was angry about something and she looked…
scared.” He sighs. “It might be nothing, just a drunken mistake, but he grabbed her wrist and it left a mark on her. I know she’s pale, but—”
“But nothing,” I cut him off and he shuts up immediately, blowing out a breath that sounds a lot like relief. Had he thought I wouldn’t think this was worth him mentioning? I hold the phone against my shoulder and tug on my boots. She’s gonna talk to me whether she likes it or not. “What else?”
“Nothing else. He stumbled out the door and when I went to ask her about it, she blew me off.”
“Of course she fucking did. Thanks, Cartwright. I won’t mention this to Bails, but I’ve gotta go.”
“Let me know if you need backup.”
I grunt, but hang up, immediately dialing Austin’s number again.