Chapter 34 Tex
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Tex
I should be at the Silver Star ranch. That’s where my head is supposed to be. That’s where my body is supposed to be.
I have a bronc to ride in a few days, a purse to win, and a point to prove to Tripp and every other asshole in this county who thinks the Carsons are washed up.
But I’m not at the ranch.
I’m standing by the fence of the north pasture, watching a girl check a cow’s gums.
Sedona is out here with Jasper. Even though Dr. Thorne gave the all-clear, even though the parasite is supposedly dead in the water, she’s out here doing a final check. Just to be sure.
That’s Sedona.
I watch her move.
She’s wearing a white T-shirt tucked into a pair of faded jeans that hug her hips. Her boots are scuffed and dusty, broken in from years of work. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, exposing the curve of her neck.
The sun catches the red in her hair, turning it into a halo of fire.
She looks healthier. The gray pallor is gone. The dark circles under her eyes have faded. There’s color in her cheeks, a rosy flush that speaks of recovery and life.
She looks up, spots me by the fence. She waves.
The motion is simple. Casual. It shouldn’t make my chest ache, but it does.
I lift my hand in a half-wave and start walking toward them.
My boots crunch on the dry grass. The scent of the pasture hits me—hay, manure, warm earth.
But underneath it all, I catch her scent. Honeysuckle and cedar. It drifts on the breeze, cutting through the barnyard smells.
It clouds my judgment. It always has.
I reach them. Jasper is holding a clipboard, looking nervous. Sedona is scratching the ear of a black heifer.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey,” I reply.
“I thought you were heading to Grant’s place to practice,” she says. “Billy said you were planning on riding this morning.”
I shrug. “I’ll go this afternoon. The cattle were being fed. I wanted to check on things here first.”
It’s a lie. I didn’t care about the cattle. I cared about seeing her.
She nods. “That’s responsible of you.”
“That’s me. Mr. Responsible.”
She smiles. It’s a faint twitch of her lips.
“Jasper is showing me the reports,” she says, gesturing to the kid. “We’re checking vitals. Just a standard wellness check.”
“Can I help?”
She looks at me. She hesitates for a second, then nods.
“Sure. We’re checking for discharge. Eyes, nose. And checking the gums for capillary refill time. If they’re pale, it could mean anemia.”
“Got it.”
I move down the line. We work in silence for a few minutes. The cattle are calm, used to us. They chew their cud, swishing their tails at flies.
I glance at Sedona every few seconds. I watch the way she handles the animals. Firm but gentle. Her hands are steady. She doesn’t flinch when a cow jerks its head.
She’s good. She’s really good.
“So,” I say. I try to keep my voice casual. “Where’s Clara?”
Sedona doesn’t look up from the heifer she’s examining. “She went to town. Daisy Mae promised her a huckleberry pie for the road. She’ll be back any minute.”
“The road,” I repeat.
“Yeah. I swear my girl is obsessed with those pies. She’s sad to leave them, but after surviving quarantine, I’m sure she’s happy to be getting back on the road.”
Yesterday, at the house, Sedona dropped the bomb that she’s leaving. Going back to New York. They both are. They have lives there, careers.
I spent the night staring at the ceiling of my room, listening to Billy pace in his room, thinking about it.
Sedona’s leaving. Again.
And the worst part? Billy and Seth are just letting her. They’re sitting on the porch, drinking coffee, acting like it is just another Tuesday.
Like the woman who owns their souls isn’t packing her bags.
I can’t do that. I can’t just sit here and watch her drive away.
“Clara’s flight,” I say. “When is it?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Sedona says. “Around eight.”
“I can drive her to the airport,” I say.
She stops. She pulls her hand out of the heifer’s mouth. She wipes it on her jeans and turns to look at me.
“You don’t have to do that, Tex. It’s an hour away. I’ve got the rental car.”
“I insist,” I say. “It’s on the way to… nowhere. I don’t have anywhere to be.”
She looks at me. She sees through the bravado. She sees the stubborn set of my jaw.
“What about practice?”
“What about it?”
“Okay,” she says quietly. “Thank you. That would be nice.”
I nod. I turn back to the cow.
We work for another twenty minutes. The sun gets higher, burning off the morning chill. I sweat through my shirt.
Jasper finishes his row and comes over. “They look good, Dr. Archer. All clear.”
“Thanks, Jasper,” she says. “Good work.”
The kid beams, looking relieved to be done. He probably wants to go edit his photos or whatever he does when he’s not lurking around the barn.
“You can head back,” Sedona tells him. “I’ll finish up the last few.”
Jasper scampers off, leaving us alone.
The silence stretches.
It’s just me and her and the cows.
I watch her check the last animal. She moves efficiently, her eyes scanning for any sign of trouble.
She is so pretty.
It’s a simple thought, but it hits me hard. It’s not just the way she looks, though that’s enough to make a man crazy. It’s the way she is. The intelligence in her eyes. The way she cares for things that can’t speak for themselves.
She’s smart. She’s tough. She’s funny.
I’m beginning to think I might not want anyone other than her.
It’s a terrifying thought. It means giving up on the idea of the rodeo groupie, the easy fling, the life without strings. It means wanting something real.
And real things break.
She finishes the check. She wipes her hands on a rag and turns to me.
“All done,” she says.
“Good.”
She leans against the fence, pushes her ponytail off her shoulder. “Are Billy and Seth still thinking of trying out for the roping event?”
I snort. “I’m not sure.”
“Why? They’d be good.”
“Billy’s shoulder,” I say. “It’s still not well healed after his fall. He messed it up bad a while back. That, coupled with all the fence mending… it’s been acting up.”
“Oh,” she says. Her brow furrows. “I didn’t know it was that bad.”
“And the two of them haven’t practiced enough,” I add. “Billy’s been distracted. Seth’s been buried in paperwork. Then the quarantine. They haven’t had time to sync up.”
She nods slowly. “That’s a shame.”
“Yeah.”
“I bet they would at least get third place,” she says, and she smiles. It’s a genuine smile, full of affection. “Billy has a natural swing. And Seth… Seth is well, he looks like he’d be good at it.”
She looks out at the pasture.
“I hope they do it,” she says. “I hope they sign up. It would be good for them. For the ranch.” She looks at me. “What about you? Are you ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I say.
“Tripp is going to be there,” she says.
“I know.”
“Are you going to beat him?”
“I’m going to try.”
She laughs. It’s a light sound, and it eases the tightness in my chest.
“I’ll be rooting for you,” she says. “All of you.”
“I wish you would stay for the rodeo.”
“I know,” she says. “But I’ll be watching from New York. I’ll check the scores online.”
New York.
The word is a bucket of cold water.
She’s leaving. She’s going back to her life. A life that doesn’t include dusty boots and broken trucks and brothers who are so stupidly in love with her.
“I can’t believe you’re going back,” I say. The words slip out before I can stop them.
She freezes. Her smile fades.
“It’s where I live, Tex,” she says gently.
“I know,” I say. I look down at my boots. “I just thought… I don’t know. I thought maybe you’d stay this time.”
She’s quiet for a long moment.
“I can’t,” she whispers.
“Why not?”
“My life is back there.”
“You have a life here,” I argue. “You have a clinic. You have friends. You have…” I stop myself before I say us.
She looks at me. Her eyes are full of something I can’t read.
“I have a lot of things here,” she admits. “But I have a lot of things there, too. And I worked hard for them. I can’t just throw them away because… because of a feeling.”
“A feeling?” I ask.
She looks away. “You know what I mean.”
“Do I?”
She turns to me and puts her hand on my arm. Her touch is warm.
“Tex,” she says. “Please don’t make this harder than it is.”
I look at her hand. I cover it with my own.
“I’m not trying to make it hard. I just… I hate the idea of you leaving. It feels wrong.”
“It feels wrong to me too,” she says. “But it’s necessary.”
“Is it?”
She pulls her hand back and crosses her arms.
“I have to go,” she says. “Clara will be back soon. We have to pack.”
She pushes off the fence. She starts walking toward the house.
But I can’t just let her walk away.
“Sedona,” I call out.
She stops. She turns.
I want to tell her. I want to tell her that I’ve been in love with her since I was fifteen. I want to tell her that I’m not Billy. I’m not Seth.
I’m not angry or steady. I’m just me. The wild one. The one who would ride a bull through a wall of fire just to see her smile.
But the words stick in my throat.
“Be careful packing,” I say lamely. “Don’t lift anything heavy.”
She smiles. It’s a sad smile. “I won’t.”
She turns and walks away.
I stand there, alone in the pasture, the cows low in the distance.
I feel like an idiot.
Billy and Seth might be willing to let her go. They might be too proud, too hurt, or too respectful to fight for her.
But not me.
I don’t know how to quit. I don’t know how to back down.
If she wants to go back to New York, fine. But she’s going to know exactly what she’s leaving behind.
And maybe she’ll decide that the life she built isn’t as good as the one she could have here.
I turn and head for the barn. I need to find Jasper. I need to know the schedule for the fair.
I have one week.
One week to show her that the wild brother might just be the one worth staying for.