Chapter 1
Cassidy
I jolted awake, and my heart slammed against my ribs as I searched the darkness for what woke me. A dingo's howl echoed somewhere behind me, followed by a cow’s screaming bellow that cut through the night.
"Shit." I shot out of my swag, grabbed my rifle, and as my boots hit the dirt, my eyes finally adjusted to the moonlit scrub around me.
The cattle herd to my left had been settled when I'd finally called it a night and slipped into my sleeping bag fully clothed with my boots still on. They weren’t settled now.
Venus and Pluto emerged from the shadows, hackles raised and eyes bright and focused. They were my oldest dogs and the best I'd ever trained. They were smart, took orders well, and anticipated what needed to be done.
Pity I couldn't say the same for some humans.
I jogged toward where Gus and the three other ranch hands had chosen to sleep. Gus was already seated upright, confirming he’d heard the distressed cow, too.
We hadn’t bothered lighting a campfire last night as we’d stopped well after dark and planned to get moving again before sunrise.
“Sounds like dingoes, boss,” Gus said, falling into step beside me.
"Yep." Damn dingoes were opportunists, attacking the weakest animals. The bellows that the cow was making meant trouble. "Where the hell's Bevan?"
Gus shook his head. “No idea, but he’s in deep shit.”
I scanned the camp. Bevan was supposed to be on watch. Supposed to be pacing the perimeter, keeping the herd tight, and listening for exactly this kind of danger.
The moon had shifted to the western horizon. I'd slept for about four hours. Not nearly enough. We'd run the cattle hard yesterday, and the trek from the homestead to the northern paddocks had been brutal. That torrential rain a couple of weeks back had turned half the property into a bog.
The same storm had nearly killed my brother and his new partner, Charlie.
The flash flood had caught them in the ravine, and they'd crawled into a cave to escape.
It was lucky they had, or they would've drowned.
The lucky buggers found a pouch full of gold and gems in the cave, too, along with a skeleton whose skull was cracked wide open.
We still didn't know who that poor man was or how he'd ended up in that cave.
I picked up my pace, taking a wide berth around a massive bull, and that’s when I found Bevan. The stupid bastard was dead asleep, slumped against a sun-bleached log that practically glowed in the moonlight.
“Bloody hell,” Gus muttered. “I’ll get him.” He strode toward the ranch hand with the kind of fury I felt burning in my own chest. Gus put his soul into training these men, but it was damn hard to find ranch hands who gave a shit.
A few things really pissed me off and men who couldn't pull their weight were at the top of the list.
Leaving Gus to handle Bevan and get the rest of the hands ready, I sprinted to my horse. Jupiter lifted her head when I approached. The whites of her eyes showed. She’d sensed something was wrong. She always did. I swung into the saddle, and she moved before I gave her the command.
“Ha!” I leaned into her neck as she galloped around the massive herd. As we aimed toward the screaming cow, I hoped we weren’t too late.
Four hundred head of cattle, and it was my job to keep every one of them alive.
Toward the back of the herd, a cow was down. Her hooves scrabbled in the dirt, and her panicked cries cut right through me.
Jupiter surged forward into the darkness, brave and fearless, like a soldier heading into battle.
Dingoes darted in and out of the shadows, snapping at the cow’s hindquarters, testing her and scaring the shit out of her.
I raised my rifle and fired at one of the dingoes. The bastard darted away before the bullet hit. The pack scattered but not far. They yipped and howled, and I knew they weren't done yet.
"Venus! Pluto! Bring them ’round!"
The dogs flew past Jupiter like bullets, cutting sharp arcs around the herd. They snapped and barked just enough to drive the cattle back together.
But one cow broke free anyway. She bolted straight toward the river. Then another. Then a third.
"Bloody hell."
I wheeled Jupiter hard and took off after them.
Her hooves thundered into the soft soil as we raced downhill.
We'd followed this river nearly all day yesterday, searching for a place to cross.
The flash flood had made a mess of the banks, littering them with century-old trees that had survived a thousand storms. But it was the mud that worried me.
That black soup was like quicksand. Any cow that went into it wasn't getting out easily.
And that was exactly where those three heifers and one massive bull were headed.
"No!" I yelled, knowing it was pointless. I leaned harder into Jupiter's neck, urging her faster.
If I lost even one of those cows, I was going to kill Bevan. The lazy bastard was supposed to wake me when something went wrong.
Dingoes weren't just wrong. They were a deadly pain in our asses.
The cows didn't stop. They ran straight toward the river, but their legs sank into the mud before they got anywhere near water.
"Son of a bitch!"
One of the cows bellowed in terror. Her belly was round and low, her sides heaving. “Shit!” She’s pregnant.
I skidded Jupiter to a halt at the edge of the mud and grabbed my lasso. My brain screamed that this pregnant cow was too damn heavy to haul out, but I swung the rope overhead anyway.
The loop sailed through the air and hooked around her horns.
I tied the rope to my saddle horn, and Jupiter leaned back into the pull. The rope went taut. The cow's head lifted, nostrils flaring as she sucked in air, but her body didn't budge.
The mud had her locked tight from the belly down.
"Easy, Jupiter. That’s it, girl." I kept the rope tension steady enough to keep the cow’s head up. Jupiter held firm, muscles bunched, waiting for my cue.
Hoofbeats thundered behind me, and Gus skidded Orion to a stop at my side. “Son of a bitch."
"Yeah, and she's pregnant."
"Christ." He dismounted and grabbed two ropes from his saddle. "Keep her head up. I'll get a line around her."
The other three ranch hands rode up hard, stopping at the edge of the mud.
The dingoes' yips echoed from the darkness. I couldn't see them, but they were closer. Bolder. Sensing a kill.
"Venus! Pluto! Guard!"
The dogs wheeled around, positioning themselves between us and the shadows. Their hackles stood rigid down their spines.
“Jiemba. I need you to keep those dingoes away from our cattle,” I yelled at our only indigenous ranch hand. He was damn good when he wasn’t busy with his family matters, that was. “Shoot them if you have to.”
Jiemba nodded. “Yes, boss.” He wheeled his horse and galloped into the darkness.
“Bevan. You help him,” I ordered.
Bevan’s gaze shot from the trapped cow to me, and the whites of his eyes flared. He knew he was in a ton of trouble.
Gus waded into the mud, and his boots disappeared in the black soup. He’s going to be really pissed about that. Bevan would have hell to pay.
The cow thrashed, eyes rolling white with panic.
Gus moved slowly, inching closer. "Easy now, mama. We got you."
The mud made obscene sucking sounds with every movement the cow made, and if the cow kept fighting like that, she'd exhaust herself. Or worse—go into labor.
Jupiter raised her head, and I ran my hand along her neck, feeling her incredible muscles. “Easy, girl. We’ll save her.”
The other two cows and the bull were only knee-deep in the mud. Hard to tell if they were stuck or just being pains in the ass. They'd have to wait until we got the pregnant cow out. Hopefully, she wouldn’t go into labor right in the middle of this rescue.
The mud grabbed at Gus with every step, sucking at his boots as he worked his way along the rope I had on her horns, using it to keep himself upright.
A dozen dingoes broke from the trees. Venus and Pluto tore into the pack, barking and snapping until the predators melted back into the scrub.
When Gus reached the cow’s side, he worked quickly, looping both ropes behind her front legs and around her chest.
The cow thrashed, nearly knocking him sideways, but Gus showed zero fear. I’d seen him do many things that would’ve killed a lesser man. Sometimes, I wondered if he had a death wish.
"Got it." Gus grunted, pulling the ropes through and forming a loop. “Davo, catch this.” He tossed the rope over the mud, and Davo caught it on the first try. “Tie it on like Cassidy’s done, but don’t pull back until I say. We'll need three pulling points."
The cow's breathing had gone ragged, and my throat tightened. We needed her help to get onto dry land.
As Gus waded back out, mud coating him to his thighs, Davo secured his rope to the saddle horn. “Ready,” he said, nodding at me.
I nudged Jupiter’s side, shifting her away from Davo, so we could pull from different angles.
Gus stepped onto dry land and jumped onto Orion, securing the rope to his saddle. "Okay, we need to pull steady. Not fast. Steady. If we jerk her, we could snap her spine or send her into shock."
"One." Gus eased Orion backward, putting tension on his rope.
I did the same with Jupiter, and the rope creaked.
"Two."
"Three."
Jupiter leaned back into the pull. Every muscle in her body strained. The other two horses did the same. The rope around the cow's chest took the weight, and her front end started to lift, but so damn slowly.
The mud fought us, and every inch was a battle. The cow bawled, a sound that cut straight through me, but her front legs finally broke the surface.
"Keep going!" Gus shouted.
The suction released with a sound like a gasp, and the cow lurched forward. Jupiter stumbled back a step from the sudden shift in weight, then found her footing.
The cow collapsed on solid ground, sides heaving. The lower half of her body was covered in black mud. But she was out. She was breathing. And the calf was still inside her. Win. Win. Win.