The Wrangler and the Tenderfoot (Wolves of Maddox Ranch #2)

Chapter 1 Reid

The boar problem had started in January, but by June it was a war.

They'd bred furiously, and by this week, half the lower pastures were torn up beyond recognition.

They rooted up fence posts and killed calves.

Their rooting made the ground a mess and could easily break a horse's leg.

They tore up grazing land. Maybe the worst was the diseases they carried.

They could take a whole herd out easily.

I'd killed a bunch, but they just came back, two for every one I put down, playing a numbers game they knew they'd win.

It was already eighty degrees by the time I got Ghost saddled, and there's just something damn wrong about sweating through your shirt before the sun’s up.

Ghost didn't care. He was built for hot, flat country. He'd been mine since my father, Travis Coulter, the Maddox foreman his whole life, walked him to me the day he decided I was old enough to have a horse of my own. He’d held out the lead rope without ceremony, the way he’d done everything that mattered.

We crossed the south meadow at a careful walk, my rifle tied across the pommel and an old field pack bumping against my hip.

I'd loaded it with water, beef jerky, and enough ammo for three days if I got unlucky.

Sloane says I'm paranoid. Midge says I'm prepared.

I trust Midge. Ghost does too, which is how I know Midge is right about most things.

Buck and Gray, two of our long-time hands, had ridden out at first light for the south fence.

Their horses’ hoofprints were already drying in the mud when I came down off the meadow.

The hogs’ tracks started near the creek's end and looked fresher. The hogs’d probably come after Buck and Gray had passed through.

A whole mess of them, big as my fist, gouged deep into the muddy earth.

There weren't many chances to track a group of hogs this size when the ground was wet, but it also meant Ghost hated every minute.

I dismounted at the fence line, tied him up, and checked the wind.

Coming from the south, warm and steady. They'd never know I was coming. It was easier as a wolf. They’d never know I was coming.

I could be sneaky as a human, but I had nothing on my wolf.

I shifted into my fur. The world brightened, then split into layers.

I could smell every grass blade, every beetle and pissant, and especially every cow turd.

The odor of the boars hit me so hard I nearly sneezed.

Fuck, they stunk. Smelled like sour beer and blood.

I followed the noxious stink under the fence, low and silent, keeping my tail down.

Wolves don't belong in daylight, but the pigs were making a mess and Calder needed a count for the cull. At this point, we were going to have to hit them all at once, or they’d hide and breed that much faster.

I padded behind a downed cedar and waited, peering around the tree. Two sows, at least a dozen piglets, and a big bastard of a boar. Scarred up, missing half his tail, tusks a good foot long. He'd been shot before, at least twice. That explained the limp.

I was about to turn back when the wind shifted, just a hair, just enough to warn me something was wrong. It wasn't boar stink, or blood, or the sweet rot of dead cattle. It was cologne. Cheap, bitter, and trying too hard. Human, and not from the Maddox ranch.

I circled wide. The fence was new, built last winter, and the grass was beaten flat where the Colemans liked to cut through our property line.

Rat bastards. There were two people at the top of the ridge, sweating and uneasy on horses.

One of the riders was Wyatt Coleman, the oldest of the Coleman kids.

Fancy boots, sunglasses, hair slicked back with too much product.

He was carrying, sidearm on his hip, same as anyone in this county.

It wasn’t like the Colemans and the Maddoxes mixed. According to Buck, they’d tried when Calder and I were kids, but the Colemans had been less than amiable. I'd never trusted the Coleman name. Nobody did.

The other rider was a woman. I couldn't see her face yet. She was smaller, dressed in tan cargo pants and a sun shirt, with a floppy hat hanging down her back. No rifle, just a big camera and a phone, or maybe a handheld GPS. Not a local.

I went belly-down and tried to back out, but the boar caught my motion or smell and squealed. High and ugly, a sound that made my gums itch. The entire herd exploded. Piglets scattered, sows chased them, but the big boar squared up on me and dropped his head. Damn it.

Coleman and the woman jerked around at the sound.

The horses panicked, and in about two seconds, it was a mini stampede.

Coleman kept his seat, but the woman's horse pitched and sent her flying before taking off.

She landed hard, rolled, and didn't get up.

Coleman, the noble son of a bitch, used the opportunity to yank his horse's head around and head for the road, cussing the whole way.

Remarkable self-preservation instinct on that man. Fucker.

That left me, the boar, and the woman.

The boar charged. I bolted for the woman, hoping she wouldn't spook worse than the horses. She was sprawled on her side, hand clutching her ankle. She looked up just in time to see a two-hundred-pound wolf barreling at her.

I broke left, putting myself between her and the boar, and braced for impact.

The bastard clipped my hind leg, but it was a glancing shot.

He was more interested in the woman. I whipped around, bit down on his flank until I tasted blood.

He shrieked, spun, ripping his leg from my mouth, and ran for the treeline.

I didn't chase. Instead, I turned and took a good look at the woman.

She hadn't screamed or fainted or tried to scramble away.

She'd propped herself up on one elbow, with what I was pretty sure was a Sig P365 leveled at my chest. A small gun.

She had a steady grip, muzzle not wavering an inch.

Wide-eyed, but not wild. There was a stillness in her face that stopped me cold.

I'd been in enough bad situations to know the difference.

This woman had come through something before and was still standing. Metaphorically. She was still sitting.

We held each other's gaze, her gun between us.

Then I heard the whinny of a horse. Ghost, still tied up at the fence.

He hated being left out of a good fight.

I took off, sprinted the full quarter mile back, and shifted behind a clump of sumac.

I limped over and untied Ghost. He was anxious, ears flat. I didn't blame him.

I mounted up, cut a quick trail back to the clearing, and as I broke through the trees, I tried my best to look unhurried.

The woman was sitting upright now, picking dirt out of her palm.

Her hat was gone, hair loose around her shoulders, her face freckled and sunburned. She saw me coming and waved.

I dismounted ten yards away and tipped my hat. "You all right, ma'am?"

She grinned. "Took a hell of a tumble, but I'll live. A wolf chased a wild boar right over to us. The horses freaked out, mine threw me, and my guide took off."

Her ankle was swelling badly. I dug an elastic wrap out of my saddlebag and knelt beside her. “Can I take a look?”

She held out her leg.

"I'm Reid Coulter, " I said. "Wiggle your foot this way.” I nodded my head over my shoulder toward my horse so she’d move her foot that way.

“That’s Ghost. We work for the Maddox place.

" I jerked my head toward the Maddox Ranch, which was in the opposite direction of Ghost. “Now wiggle your foot that way.”

She looked up at me, eyes green and sharp. "I'm Jennie. I work for the Colemans.” She lifted her leg and pointed the other way. “Well, sort of. I’m doing some geology work for an oil company thinking about drilling on the Coleman ranch."

I wrapped her ankle, snug but not too tight. "They must've thought you needed supervision."

She snorted. "Hardly. That asshole couldn't supervise a goldfish."

"Sorry you got thrown," I said.

She shrugged. "Better than doing desk work. Besides, it's the first time I've seen a wolf up close. Do you get a lot of them around here?"

I almost laughed, but didn't. "Not really. Wolves are pretty well extinct in the Hill Country. Maybe it was a big dog."

She didn't look convinced. "That one was a wolf for sure. Came barreling straight at me. I thought I was done for right up until it cut past and went for the boar."

"He was going for the boar, not you," I said. "Dogs, uh, wolves, don't tend to attack humans. They just don't always look like they're making that distinction until the last second."

She laughed, and I helped her stand. “Can I take you back to the Coleman place? Ghost can handle us both.”

She winced, but nodded. “I’d appreciate it. I’ve not known Wyatt Coleman for long, but I highly doubt he’s coming back for me.”

I snorted. “I’ve known him, or known of him, for a long time, and you’re right. He’s not coming back.”

She managed to hobble with me to Ghost. He stood perfectly still while I boosted her up, then swung into the saddle behind her.

"Thanks," she said after a minute. "For being at the right place at the right time. I would’ve been left for the buzzards."

"I don't care for buzzards, " I said.

She leaned back a little. "Are you cowboys all like this? I ask because I don’t consider Wyatt Coleman a real cowboy."

It was all I could do not to burst out laughing at her observation of Wyatt. "Not even close."

We rode slowly, letting the breeze dry our sweat. If Ash found out about this, she wasn’t going to let me live down being a good human and helping out a pretty lady.

Ghost wasn't built for two, but Jennie weighed next to nothing, and I could tell he liked her.

Or maybe he just liked the way she smelled, of lime soap, sweat, and a little dust. She held tight to the horn, every bump and dip in the trail making her wince.

I kept the pace slow, taking it easy on her.

We cleared the fence line and cut east along the dirt track that ran between Maddox and Coleman property. Most folks knew the families hated each other. We wouldn't have if the Colemans hadn’t been such assholes.

Jennie broke the silence first. "You always ride the range on horseback?"

"Usually," I said. "Truck can't get through half the terrain."

"Have you ever used an ATV?"

I almost laughed. "Naw, horses have always done well enough for us."

She twisted to look at me, one eyebrow up. "So, do you have siblings?"

"Sort of. I grew up with the Maddoxes, the family that owns the land here that borders the Colemans. The Maddoxes feel like my brothers and sister."

She nodded. "I'm also an only child, but didn’t have a surrogate family."

"What's your story?"

She shrugged. "My mom moved us a lot. I went to college in Austin. Now I do contract work for oil companies. Pays well, but it's lonely."

"Why geology?"

"I like dirt," she said with a laugh. "You can learn a lot about a place by what's under your feet. Also, rocks don't sass back."

I gave her credit for that one. Even cows sassed back. "They really think you’ll find enough to drill?"

She nodded. "Yeah, they suspect so. They want to put in test wells, see if there's something worth pumping, but it’s my job to see if the test wells are even worth it."

"Probably isn't," I said.

She shrugged again. "That's what I keep telling them. But my job's not to tell them no. My job's to collect samples and smile until they sign a check."

"Cows are simpler," I said.

She smiled. "You seem like a cow guy."

"Is that a compliment?"

"More than you think. You always patrol with a rifle?” she asked, nodding at the .308.

I looked down at it. “Coyote problem. And sometimes, other things, like the boars.” I let her make of that what she wanted. “In case you haven’t noticed, this is Texas.”

She snorted. “I did,” she said. There was a brief silence, filled only by the cicadas and the low wind through the trees.

I could feel my wolf under my skin, not agitated, not on edge, just alert, the way I get when I meet something I’m not sure I can win against. There was no threat in her, but there was a kind of presence I didn’t expect from anyone on the Coleman payroll.

“If you need anything, or run into anything you can’t handle, let me give you my number.”

She pulled out her phone and typed the number in as I rattled it off. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

We hit a patch of shade, and I leaned a little, shifting Ghost's gait. Jennie caught herself on my arm and stayed there, holding tight. "Sorry, " she said. "I haven't ridden regularly in years."

"Don't worry. I've got you."

She waited, then laughed. "You're not big on words, are you?"

I shrugged. "Most words don't do much. Actions speak louder and all that."

She lapsed back into silence, which was fine by me. Halfway to the Coleman gate, she spoke again. "Back to that wolf. I’m not convinced it was a dog."

I needed to convince her she’d seen a dog. "It could’ve been a wolf, but he would’ve wandered pretty far from their territories." I didn’t like lying to this woman for some reason.

"They're endangered, right?"

"Er, I think so in other areas of the States, but around here we just don’t have them." Just not the one she saw. There being only a few of us made me endangered, right?

She squinted at the horizon. "My grandpa told me stories about wolves in the Hill Country. Said they were monsters."

She was a little too close for comfort. "Most monsters are just hungry."

She went quiet after that. Guess she was thinking about it. Me too, damn, we needed to change the subject. We topped the last hill, and the Coleman house appeared. Big, ugly, all stucco and fake pillars, with a flagpole taller than the barn. Someone was waiting by the gate, arms crossed.

"Looks like you're expected," I said.

She gave a half-smile. "That's Bill, the ranch manager. Hates me."

I recognized him now. "Can't blame him. You're a disruptor." As soon as we got close enough to say hello, Bill turned and walked away. He was a real asshole all right.

She laughed but didn't argue, which I took to mean I was right. When I swung down to open the gate, she let out a long breath and watched me.

I helped her down slowly, careful of the ankle. She braced on Ghost's shoulder and didn't let go for a good ten seconds. "Thanks, Reid, " she said, steadying herself.

"Anytime, Jennie."

She smiled, then limped to the house without looking back.

I watched her go, an odd, unsettled feeling rising in my gut at her leaving, then mounted up and headed for the creek. There were still pigs to count, and the sun wasn't getting any cooler.

A few seconds later, I got a text.

This is Jennie. Just in case.