Chapter 8 Nick
Nick
It was vaccination week and that meant rounding up all the cattle in the pasture nearest the house each morning, then swapping them out for the next group in the afternoon.
It was grueling work, and it meant I’d been in the saddle from sunrise to sunset.
My ass was not going to be happy. But my gelding Buck… well, he was thrilled.
I patted his neck as we headed toward the north pasture, Dante riding beside me on Rosie.
Over the past couple of weeks, he’d gotten better in the saddle, not that I’d ever admit it to his face.
He wasn’t bad to begin with, but riding for leisure and work were two different things.
Angelo followed behind us on an old mare named Buttercup, looking as uncomfortable as ever despite all the practice he claimed to be getting.
Despite his jeans and flannel, he looked as out of place as ever.
The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of pine and dew-soaked grass. It should’ve been peaceful. Should’ve been just another day of ranch work like I’d done a thousand times before. But nothing was just anything anymore, not with Dante Valenti as my constant shadow.
“How many head are we bringing in today?” Dante asked, adjusting the black hat that Evelyn had convinced him to buy. I hated how good he looked in it. I hated how good he looked in everything.
“About forty,” I said, keeping my eyes on the horizon. “Should take us a couple hours to round them up if they cooperate.”
“And if they don’t?”
“Then it takes longer.” I nudged Buck into a trot as we crested the hill and the cattle came into view, dark shapes scattered across the pasture. “Stay on the outside, push them toward the gate. Don’t get in front of them or they’ll scatter.”
Dante nodded, and I had to give him credit, he listened to me when it came to ranch work. Maybe that was what bothered me most. It would be easier to hate him if he was completely useless, if he treated this whole thing like a joke, if he treated me like shit. But he didn’t. He actually tried.
We spread out, Angelo taking the far side despite his obvious discomfort. The cattle lifted their heads as we approached, that wary tension that came before they decided whether to cooperate or make our lives hell.
“Easy,” I called out, keeping Buck at a steady pace. “Nice and slow.”
The herd started to move, drifting toward the gate like we wanted. Too easy. I should’ve known better.
That’s when I saw her; a new heifer, probably one of the ones Dante had bought to restock the ranch. She was skittish, eyes rolling white, and she was breaking away from the group.
“Dante, left side!” I shouted, but she was already bolting.
I wheeled Buck around, cutting her off before she could scatter the rest of the herd. She turned, snorting, and that’s when I realized my mistake. This wasn’t just a skittish cow. This was a scared, aggressive cow.
She charged.
Buck tried to sidestep, but she was too fast, too determined. A thousand pounds of angry beef slammed into us, and suddenly I was airborne. The world spun. Sky, ground, and sky again before I hit the dirt hard enough to knock the wind out of my lungs.
Pain exploded through my shoulder and ribs. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, could only lie there gasping like a landed fish while hoofbeats thundered around me.
“Nick!” Dante’s voice cut through the ringing in my ears. I tried to respond, tried to move, but my body wasn’t cooperating. The heifer was still there, somewhere close, and I was on the ground. Vulnerable and probably about to be trampled.
Then Dante was there, dismounting before Rosie had even fully stopped. He positioned himself between me and the cow, arms spread wide, making himself the bigger threat. The heifer snorted, pawing at the ground, deciding whether this new target was worth the effort.
“Get back!” Dante shouted, not at me but at the cow. He moved forward aggressively and the heifer almost started to turn away. But then she thought better of it and charged again.
Time seemed to slow as I watched from the ground, still gasping for air, my ribs screaming in protest. Dante didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. He just stood there, solid as a fence post, between me and twelve hundred pounds of pissed-off livestock.
The heifer’s head caught him square in the chest. The impact sent him flying backward, his body hitting the ground with a sickening thud that made my own pain seem distant. His hat went tumbling across the grass.
“Dante!” The word tore out of my throat, raw and panicked in a way that surprised me.
Angelo was suddenly there, shouting and waving his arms, finally doing something useful. The heifer, spooked by our growing numbers, wheeled around and bolted back toward the herd.
I forced myself up, ignoring the white-hot pain that lanced through my shoulder. My legs felt like jelly, but I stumbled over to where Dante lay motionless in the dirt. His eyes were closed, his face pale under the Montana sun.
“Dante.” I dropped to my knees beside him, my hands hovering over his chest, not sure where to touch, what to do. “Come on, open your eyes.”
Nothing.
“Boss!” Angelo was there now, dismounting with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. “Is he—”
“Get your phone. Call 911.” My voice sounded steadier than I felt. My hands were shaking as I pressed them gently against Dante’s ribs, feeling for the rise and fall of breath. There. Shallow, but there.
“I’m calling, I’m calling!” Angelo fumbled with his phone, his fingers clumsy with panic.
I leaned closer to Dante’s face, watching for any sign of consciousness. His eyelashes were dark against his cheeks, and there was a cut on his forehead starting to bleed. Without thinking, I pressed my hand against it, trying to stem the flow.
“You stupid bastard,” I muttered, but my voice cracked on the words. “What the hell were you thinking?”
He’d saved me. That’s what he’d been thinking. He’d put himself between me and danger without hesitation, and now he was lying here unconscious because of it.
Something twisted in my chest, something that felt uncomfortably like guilt. Or worse…concern.
“Ambulance is coming,” Angelo said, crouching beside us. “They said fifteen minutes.”
Fifteen minutes felt like an eternity.
I kept my hand on Dante’s forehead, my other hand resting on his chest to feel his breathing. Each shallow rise and fall was a small relief. He was alive. He was breathing. That had to be enough.
“Come on,” I said quietly, more to myself than to him. “Don’t you dare die on me. You hear me, Dante? You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to ruin my life and then just fuck off you stupid—”
His eyes fluttered open.
I nearly jumped back in surprise, but my hand remained pressed against his forehead. Those dark eyes found mine immediately, unfocused at first, then sharpening with recognition.
“Nick,” he breathed, his voice gravelly.
“Don’t move,” I ordered, even as relief flooded through me so intensely it made me dizzy. “You got hit really fucking hard. There’s an ambulance on the way.”
He tried to sit up anyway, because of course he did. I pressed my hand against his shoulder, keeping him down. “I said don’t move, you stubborn asshole.”
“Where’s the cow?” he asked, wincing.
“Gone. Angelo scared it off.” I couldn’t believe we were having this conversation. Couldn’t believe he was conscious and talking and apparently more concerned about the damn heifer than his own injuries.
“Good.” He tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. “Are you okay?”
The question hit me harder than the ground had. He was lying there, possibly with broken ribs or internal bleeding, and he was asking if I was okay.
“I’m fine,” I said, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. “You’re the idiot who decided to play bullfighter.”
“I couldn’t let her trample you.” His hand came up, fingers wrapping around my wrist where I still held pressure on his forehead. “I had to protect you.”
I stared at him, at the blood seeping between my fingers, at the way he was looking at me like taking a hit from a charging cow was the most natural thing in the world. Something inside my chest cracked open, spilling out emotions I didn’t want to examine.
“Why?” The word came out barely above a whisper. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I care about you.” He said it so simply, like it was obvious. Like it wasn’t turning my entire world sideways. “That’s what husbands do, right?”
Husbands. The word had always felt like a chain around my neck, a reminder of everything I’d lost. But hearing it now, seeing the way he’d put himself in danger for me without a second thought, it felt different.
His natural instinct was to protect me. So, when he said he cared, I… I actually believed him.
“You’re insane,” I muttered, but I didn’t pull my hand away from his. And I didn’t move from where I was kneeling beside him in the dirt.
“Probably.” His thumb brushed against the inside of my wrist, and I felt my pulse jump under his touch. “But I meant what I said, Nick. Nobody hurts what’s mine. That includes these stupid fucking cows.”
Angelo cleared his throat awkwardly. He’d been watching the entire exchange. “Ambulance just turned onto the ranch road. Should be here in a minute.”
I could hear the siren now, distant but getting closer. Part of me wanted to pull away from Dante, to put space between us before the paramedics arrived and saw... whatever this was. But I couldn’t bring myself to let go.
“Dante,” I said, my voice coming out softer than I’d intended. “I’m—”
“Don’t apologize,” he interrupted, wincing as he tried to shift position. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
But I had, hadn’t I? I’d spent weeks treating him like the enemy, refusing to see him as anything more than the monster who’d ruined my life. And now he was lying here bleeding because he’d thrown himself in front of danger to protect me.
The ambulance came to a stop nearby, doors slamming as paramedics rushed over with their equipment. I finally pulled my hand away from his forehead, reluctantly breaking contact. One of them—a woman I vaguely recognized from town—knelt beside us.
“What happened?” she asked, already checking Dante’s vitals.
“Cow charged him,” I said, my voice sounding distant to my own ears. “Hit him square in the chest. He’s been conscious for a few minutes now, but—”
“We’ve got it from here,” she said, not unkindly. “You should step back and let us work.”
I nodded but didn’t move immediately. Dante’s eyes were still on me, and I couldn’t look away. There was something in his gaze that I hadn’t seen before. Vulnerability, maybe. Or hope.
“I’ll ride with him,” I heard myself say.
The paramedic looked up, surprised. “You family?”
“Husband,” Dante said before I could answer, and the word sent a strange thrill through me despite everything.
She nodded, accepting this without question. “Alright, but you’ll need to stay out of the way while we get him stabilized.”
They worked quickly, checking his ribs, his breathing, asking him questions about pain levels and where it hurt. I watched from a few feet away, my own shoulder throbbing where I’d hit the ground. Angelo stood beside me, looking pale and shaken.
“That was fucked up,” he muttered. “I thought he was dead for a second there.”
“Yeah,” I said, unable to tear my eyes away from Dante as they loaded him onto a stretcher. “Me too.”
“I know this isn’t the right time,” Angelo said softly. “But, the boss… he’s not a bad guy. I’ve worked for his family for a decade. He’s the best one by far.”
I glanced over at him, also keeping my voice low. “No offense, but I don’t think there’s such a thing as a good guy in the mob.”
He just shook his head. “That’s because you don’t know any.”
The paramedics wheeled Dante toward the ambulance, and I followed automatically, my legs moving before my brain caught up. The female paramedic gestured for me to climb in, and I did, settling onto the small bench seat as they secured Dante’s stretcher.
The doors closed, and suddenly we were moving, the siren wailing above us. Dante’s hand reached out, fingers searching, and without thinking I took it. His grip was weak but steady.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, his eyes meeting mine in the harsh fluorescent light of the ambulance.
“For what?”
“For not leaving me there.” His thumb brushed over my knuckles. “For caring enough to be scared.”
I wanted to deny it, to tell him I was just doing what anyone would do. But deep down, I knew the truth.
Despite every logical thought in my head, I was starting to care about him too.