Rustler Mountain

Chapter 10

She sees something in me I don’t see in myself.

—Austin Wilder’s journal, December 14, 1855

A ustin knew he shouldn’t be playing with fire. Because when a Wilder picked up matches, it turned the world into a whole conflagration.

Now, a week ago he wouldn’t have said that Millie had the ability to generate a spark.

Hell.

He’d been incorrect.

And he knew that if he reached down into the darkest places inside himself, it wasn’t actually a big surprise that he was intrigued by her.

Any psychologist would have a field day. She was the daughter of the man who had arrested him. You could put all the generational stuff to bed and just focus on that.

If her dad were still alive, he would be tempted to assume that he found her interesting because she was completely off-limits.

Hell, he supposed it didn’t really matter that the other man was dead. Fucking his daughter would be worse than dancing on his grave.

Lord.

He braced his hand against the frame of the barn door. He was waiting for her to arrive, and he shouldn’t be thinking things like that. Not when they had the power to gut-punch him in a way sexual thoughts never really did.

He was pragmatic about sex. It was a drive, like anything else, and he honored his drives. When he wanted something, he made sure to satiate the need.

In a healthy way, he liked to think. Because he wasn’t reckless in the way that his father had been. Not these days.

Which was why he had a preference for hooking up with women who were from out of town, or getting himself out of town in order to do the hooking up. He didn’t like planting landmines on the streets he had to walk, thank you very much.

He had enough problems without causing more for himself. Again, a mindset he had adopted more recently, but still.

So it shouldn’t really surprise him, he supposed, that there was a . . . fascination with Millie. A temptation.

Because temptation wasn’t really something he had a lot of experience with.

When he was younger, he had just done whatever the hell he wanted. Older, he had found a place to put everything.

Ironically, that mousy little woman aroused something wild in him that very little else did.

He shouldn’t have played around with her yesterday. Shouldn’t have let himself get close enough to smell her. Vanilla and some sweet flower, mingled with paper and ink, and there was little else half as erotic to him.

He groaned and started walking over to the stables. He needed to get the horses fed before Millie came up.

But that meant running into his siblings, which was something he wasn’t in the mood for.

Or maybe it was. Because they were his reason, after all. His reason for not being a total degenerate. His reason for giving a damn about much of anything.

Assholes.

Like everything else on the Wilder Ranch, the stables were rustic. But serviceable.

They were clean because if there was one thing that they all had in common, it was an obsessive focus on keeping the ranch healthy. Carson had his own parcel of land, but they worked the ranch together. Flynn had his own place, but his land wasn’t working land. And as for Cassidy, this was still her home base.

Carson and Flynn had been driving cattle down from one pasture to the other today, and he wasn’t sure where Cassidy was occupying herself. He didn’t micromanage them. Nobody was in charge.

And that suited him just fine. They were all good at anticipating where the work needed to be done, and they did it.

He didn’t have the energy to tell all of them what to do, not on top of everything else. He didn’t want to be a manager.

Especially not of that motley crew.

He walked into the stable right as Carson and Flynn came riding up, hats on their heads, horses breathing hard.

“Howdy, big brother,” said Flynn, dismounting, his boots landing hard on the ground.

He grinned, and Austin felt . . . something tugging at his chest. He wasn’t even sure quite what.

Flynn was still so quick with a smile. He seemed to take everything in stride. None of the cares brought on by years or loss seemed to impact him in quite the way they did himself and Carson.

Carson had been gut-punched by grief, like cannon fire in the center of his chest, while Austin just felt old sometimes.

Maybe Flynn’s sunny outlook came from having more family around. Being not just a Wilder, but also a Hunter. His mom’s family was a factor, even if he wasn’t close to his mother.

And that was something that none of the rest of them could claim.

Maybe it was just enough to make being a Wilder more enjoyable. Or maybe Flynn was just Flynn.

“Doing great,” Austin said. “I think I might have gotten the ranch tangled up in Gold Rush Days.”

Carson looked down at Flynn, and they exchanged a glance. Then Carson dismounted. “Is that so?” He crossed his arms and gave Austin a hard look.

“It is so,” Austin said, staring his brother down in turn, daring him to say something about Millie.

“And how did that come about?” Flynn asked.

“I met with the librarian yesterday.”

“The little librarian who seems to have you tied up in knots?” Carson asked.

So he was doing it. Starting a fight.

That bastard.

Austin guffawed. And then decided on denial. “No woman has ever had me in knots.”

“And yet,” Flynn said, “you seem to be doing whatever she wants you to do.”

Oh, good, Flynn was hopping in.

“She has information I want. And, as you both pointed out, potentially the key to altering some of our family reputation. You know how much I want that, to be something other than bad Austin Wilder.”

“Right,” Carson said. “So you can find a wife and build a new legacy. She in the running?”

He couldn’t quite articulate his reaction. It was like an explosion in his chest. Not a pleasant one.

“She’s a Talbot,” he gritted out.

“Yeah,” Flynn said. “Pretty famously, but it’s not keeping you from associating with her.”

“Associating on this level is different from . . . whatever the hell you’re talking about. Anyway. All that stuff is in the future.”

“Right.”

“I’m going to. . . .” He didn’t want to get into all of it with his brothers.

And just then, Cassidy rode up on her horse, dark hair tangling in the wind behind her. She was like hell on hooves, and she skidded to a stop next to Carson, a devilish grin on her face. “Howdy boys,” she said.

“Where have you been, Cass?”

She shrugged the shoulder. “Here and there.”

“Do you think you might be interested in giving wagon rides for Gold Rush Days?”

Her eyebrows shot up, then knit together and lowered. “For what?”

“You heard me. You don’t need it repeated.”

“Austin is volunteering us,” Carson said. “Well, that is something.”

“I didn’t volunteer you. You’d scare the children.”

Flynn laughed. “True.”

Austin turned to Cassidy. “I didn’t volunteer you either. Yet.”

“Why me?” Cassidy asked.

“Because you’re a great wagon driver. And I thought you might enjoy it.”

She looked irritated, mostly because he was right, and he imagined that she hated that.

“But I’m mean and untamed,” she said, lifting her hands and making claws out of them. “Don’t you think I would scare the children?”

“I think you’re the sort of strong female role model the kids need to see,” Austin said.

Cassidy gripped the brim of her hat and pulled it down low over her eyes. “Flattery will get you . . . more than I wish it would. Okay. Sounds interesting.”

“Great. I’ll keep you apprised of the details.”

“Why do I get the feeling that means you’re going to present me with a schedule and tell me where to go and what to do?”

“Probably because I will.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” she said.

He found himself grappling with uncomfortable feelings yet again. Because Cassidy had been responsible for the biggest shift in his life. He was ten years older than her. Not old enough to be her dad, and yet, in many ways, that was the role he filled. All three brothers had come together to take care of her in some way or another, but her coming had changed Austin profoundly. Cassidy had single-handedly put him on the straight and narrow. After their dad had died, he could’ve gone either way. Entirely off the deep end and into an early grave, or right to where he was now. With hope and a future. With a book half written and a mystery to solve.

“You too,” he grumbled.

Not because he didn’t mean it. But because he meant it a little bit too much, and if he wasn’t careful, his throat was going to get tight.

“I have some venison I need to use,” Carson said. “I figured I would grill burgers tonight. I’m going to ask Perry to come up. She’s going to bring rolls and salad. Dalton said he would bring some ribs.”

Austin was pleasantly surprised that Carson was organizing a get-together, but he wondered how much of it was Perry’s influence. If she had actually suggested the plan. But whatever. As long as Carson wasn’t disappearing into his own sadness.

“Sounds good.”

“Maybe I have plans,” Cassidy said, sniffing.

“Do you?” Carson asked.

“No,” she groused.

“Sounds good to me,” said Flynn. “Free food is always a draw.”

“Great. I figure we can use your place, Austin?”

“My house is . . . literally the house you grew up in. So sure.”

“See you all later, then,” Carson said, urging his horse along. “I have some chores to finish out at my homestead.”

“Great,” Austin said, waving him off.

He was feeling kind of antsy to get rid of Cassidy and Flynn also. Mainly because he knew that Millie was going to roll up any minute, and he didn’t really want an audience.

Right. You don’t want them to notice that you’re hot for her.

No. He didn’t. He didn’t want anyone to notice. He could only hope that she was just a shade too innocent to have any idea of what he was thinking.

Sure, she had lived with Michael Hall. But Michael Hall was one of those guys. Two-pump chump.

He could identify them from a mile away.

The kind of guy that thought he deserved sex, but didn’t do anything to make a good time for his partner. And Danielle LeFevre wouldn’t give a shit, because she was all about having something that someone else had.

He wondered if Millie understood that.

That Michael had wanted something illicit, and Danielle had just wanted to win. That they were a very basic set of characters. No surprises. And no change for the better on the horizon.

In his mind, you had to want a redemption arc to get one. You didn’t just stumble into it.

They could go to hell as far as he was concerned. They were boring. That was maybe their biggest sin.

But whatever, he didn’t need an audience.

“Flynn,” Cassidy said. “I’m trying to clear some bullshit out of the north pasture. Do you think you could come help me? There’s some heavy stuff.”

“Are you saying you’re not strong enough?”

“I am but a frail woman,” she said, lifting her hands and showing her slim but quite strong arms.

Flynn rolled his eyes. “If you’re feeling lazy, Cassidy, just say so.”

“I’m feeble,” she said, sniffling as she got back on her horse.

“Whatever,” Flynn said, getting back on his own. “See you for dinner,” he said to Austin.

Cassidy grinned as they went off, and Austin really couldn’t have scripted that better. So maybe things were going to go according to some kind of plan today.

He did his chores, and let his mind go blessedly blank. He gave himself over to the physicality of the work and took a break from thinking about her . Then he headed back toward the house, just in time to see Millie’s car roll up the gravel drive.

He ignored the tension in his gut, in his groin. Because what the hell was the point of focusing on that?

She looked at him through the windshield, and it seemed to him, took a little bit of extra time turning the engine off. Then she got out of the car, slowly.

Almost as if she was delaying the moment of their reunion. Almost as if she had picked up on what was bubbling between them when he had left her at the library. He should never have touchedher.

Technically, he hadn’t. Other than the accidental brush of their fingers. He had only made contact with the fabric when he’d pinned that sheriff’s star to her chest.

But it had been a risky move, and he hadn’t fully realized it until after he was committed to it. “Hey,” he said, aware that his voice sounded a little bit gruff.

“Hi,” she said.

She was so small. He had forgotten. In the hours since he had seen her yesterday, he had intentionally made his view of her a little bit blurry.

But there she was, wearing one of those prim little floral dresses that shouldn’t do a damn thing to rouse his interest, but managed to.

Her figure was neat, petite. And the tiny little buttons on the dress fueled his imagination in a way they shouldn’t.

Was this what a midlife crisis looked like when you had already made your rounds as a hellion? He didn’t care for it.

Besides, he was too young for a midlife crisis. And speaking as a Wilder, for most of them it would’ve been an end-of-life crisis. But he had survived. He was here.

He did not need this.

“I brought . . . I brought my binder,” she said, holding up a very large folder.

“Yes, you did,” he said.

He knew he was being a dick, but he was having trouble rerouting himself. Because he was afraid that if he got closer to her, then he might do something they would both regret.

Lord Almighty.

“Great. We can talk about it . . . after we go see the wagon.”

She trailed behind him as he took long strides, heading out toward the old barn that housed the covered wagon.

She was moving at a decent clip, but doing nothing to make him think of her as anything other than a mouse.

He flicked a glance at her. A cute mouse.

Dammit.

He muscled open the door, and her eyes widened.

“We don’t go in here that often. Truth be told, the thing might’ve fallen into a state of disrepair. Hopefully not, but I’m not sure how seaworthy the roof is.”

She laughed.

“What?” he asked.

“Seaworthy. That’s funny. Because it’s not a boat. It’s a roof. But you mean . . . water.... Anyway.”

“I do know what I meant,” he said.

Their eyes caught and held for a long moment.

He cleared his throat. Then he turned around and walked into the barn.

It smelled clean and dry inside, which would suggest there was nothing much to worry about.

And there it stood, the big old wagon, including the large white covering that he and Carson had fashioned out of heavy canvas all those years ago.

Before Carson had been wounded so badly. Before he had fallen in love.

Before things had gotten so complicated.

It had been a strange moment in time.

Carson had been away in the military, which had been a little bit of a bummer, but he was determined to become a hero.

Flynn and Cassidy had been doing all right in school, and not giving him too much hell. His dad wasn’t around to make things difficult. It had been a rare moment of quiet in his life.

It was when he had discovered the journal.

It was when he had started really digging into the past. And while he had felt his own mortality looming in front of him, he’d been sure he had a little bit of control.

He’d been an idiot.

But still, he remembered working on this wagon with Carson, and it was a strange, good memory among all the bad ones.

“Family heirloom.”

“It’s amazing,” she said, circling the wagon. “And this is really the wagon the Wilders used on the Oregon Trail?”

“As far as I know. I can’t think of another reason it would’ve been here. Unless Austin Wilder stole it. Which is possible. But he didn’t really start taking things until after they arrived in the Willamette Valley.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Their father died when they got to Fort Stevens. After that, they were pretty desperate. They made their way down south on their own for a piece. They started with stealing food. It wasn’t until they met up with Butch Hancock that they aimed for bigger fish. Though to be fair, from Austin’s own writing, he got a little bit of a kick out of robbery. Changing his own circumstances using his wits. Especially if he thought the people who had what he wanted possessed an excess of things. He was angry.”

“Like you,” she said.

He gritted his teeth. “Yeah. A little bit like me. Their mother died when they were small. They just had their dad. I think the family was pretty normal until the boys ended up left to their own devices.”

“So Austin Wilder was the first outlaw.”

“That he was.”

Silence stretched between them. “Anyway, Cassidy said that she’d be happy to drive the wagon.”

“Oh,” she said. “That’s . . . that’s good.”

“Yeah. I don’t think you want me driving the wagon.”

“I don’t,” she said. “Because I’ve been thinking. Actually, I was wondering if you would consider leading a walking tour.”

“What?”

“You know the history of Rustler Mountain. I mean, in a really vivid way. Even if we don’t figure out the exact truth of what happened. . . I think it would be impactful to have you give the tour.”

“Why me?”

“You’re Austin Wilder. You’re named for him. Imagine the impact of having you standing there telling everybody the story. Imagine the kids . . . when they find out that you’re the descendant of an outlaw.”

“I’m not sure we want to be glorifying outlaws.”

“I’m not sure that we want to be glorifying my ancestor either. But maybe there’s a benefit to really personalizing the legend.”

“We’ll discuss it.”

“Maybe we could both do it. We could wear costumes. I have the sheriff’s star after all.”

She looked up at him, and there was a sort of fierce light in her eye that made him pause. “You do.”

She looked away again. And then she took a step toward him, and he could see the intent in her eyes. The near comedic determination. And what he really wanted to do was reach out and grab her. What he really wanted to do was finish it for her. Close the space between them. Taste her mouth.

Damn. What would it be like?

He couldn’t remember ever wondering what it would be like to taste a specific woman.

To kiss a Talbot. To have her mouth under his.

But not just a Talbot. Millie. Whom he had known since she was a girl.

Who was the only person who really understood him in some ways.

That realization, the idea of what they might be opening up, almost sent him running in the other direction. For her own sake.

Because her mother had been the kindest person he’d ever known.

Had been the mother figure his own had never been. Hell, had been more to him than even his own father.

And if she were here, she would want Millie to be protected. He didn’t give a shit about her dad. Yet he’d had that thought earlier. That it would be akin to dancing on his grave to touch the man’s innocent daughter.

But he wouldn’t take any joy in that transgression. Not any fucking joy at all, because of Millie’s mother. Because of Millie herself. Because of the ways he already knew that she had been hurt.

Because she wanted to get married.

She wanted to have a house and a life. And yes, someday maybe he would have those things. But he was never going to fall in love. Not the way she would want to.

There were just certain bridges that couldn’t be crossed, and this was one of them.

That was just the truth.

So he did the merciful thing. He wrapped his hand around her wrists and he pushed her back, just slightly.

“Don’t do that,” he said.

Her cheeks turned bright red. “What?”

“Don’t look at me like that, little mouse. Because you’re gonna get yourself in a whole lot of trouble if you do.”

“I . . . I wasn’t. . . .”

“You were. Don’t think you can tame me. Don’t think you can handle all this. You can’t.”

“You don’t know me,” she said, her voice quiet. “You don’t know what I can handle.”

“I’ve known you your whole life. I’m pretty sure I know what you can handle.”

“That’s bullshit.” She bit her lip as soon as she uttered the expletive, as if it was a shock to her. Hell, it was a little bit of a shock to him. Though he was never going to let her know that. “You know some things about me, but you don’t know me.”

“I know you well enough,” he said. “And believe me when I tell you, you don’t need to be getting yourself mixed up in this. You don’t need to be getting yourself mixed up in me.”

“I just wanted. . . .”

He shook his head. “You don’t know what you want.”

“Stop. I am so desperately tired of people telling me who I am. I would’ve thought that you of all people could understand that.”

“Let me guess, you’ve been with one man.”

Her mouth dropped open. “I. . . .”

“And you’re mad. Because that one man turned out to be an absolute dick. And I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry he did that to you, but you’re not going to make yourself feel better by taking revenge on him and fucking me. Also, I’m not really here for that.”

Her eyes went glassy, and she blinked. “I didn’t say I wanted that. I didn’t even do anything. You’re making assumptions. Maybe you’re the . . . maybe you’re the dick. Did you ever think about that?”

“I am quite certain I’m a dick. Just a different brand than he is. A kind that you don’t know how to handle.” He gritted his teeth against the very regrettable choice of words. Against the hurt in her face, against the need tightening his gut.

God Almighty. He could go out and have sex whenever he felt like it. Finding a willing and enthusiastic partner was like breathing for him. Why was he letting himself get involved with Millie? Why wasn’t he just shutting it down, cutting it off, and feeling nothing?

“I. . . .”

He heard the sound of horses’ hooves, then boots hitting the dirt.

“Fuck. It’s my sister.”

He knew it was. Because only Cassidy had timing this awkward.

She came striding into the barn, hanging on to her horse’s lead rope. “Oh hi,” she said. “I didn’t know you would be here, Millie.”

“I came to look at the wagon.”

“Austin said you’d like me to drive it. I’m a good wagon driver. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, what do you think?” Millie asked, her voice still trembling slightly. She looked at him, and her expression was . . . fierce. For the first time he wondered if he actually had underestimated her.

“I don’t know. There are some wagon trails up here, but of course, I’m not sure that anybody wants to take the drive. We could drive through town, but then there would have to be a lot of blocked-off traffic, and since we already have the town council riled up, it might not be the best thing to go asking for blockades.”

“Some blockades are going to be inevitable,” Millie said. “In more ways than one, I imagine.”

“Sure,” Cassidy said. “I have a couple of different ideas. I can draw you some maps. You should stay for dinner. We’re eating in just about twenty minutes or so.”

“Oh,” Millie said.

“The whole gang,” Cassidy continued.

He shot his sister a hard look, but she didn’t see it. Or if she did, she chose not to acknowledge it.

But Millie would say no. She would. Because what had just happened between them was too uncomfortable. She would scurry back to her little mouse hole.

It was as if she heard him think. Because her head swiveled around to look at him, and there was a challenge in her eyes.

“I would love to,” Millie said. “In fact, I have my whole folder with me, all kinds of plans for the event. Really looking forward toit.”

“Great. Why don’t you come on into the house. We’re just going to be getting things ready. My brother is bringing over burger patties. Well, it’s venison. So you ought to be warned. It has a different flavor.”

“Oh, my dad was a pretty avid deer hunter,” Millie said. “I’m familiar.”

“Great. So it’s nothing you can’t handle.”

“No,” she said, her eyes resting defiantly on Austin. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”