Chapter Two #3
Not that the disrepair had been totally Wade’s fault.
His longtime foreman had developed back problems prior to retiring and had done less and less.
Wade had managed as best he could, first single-handedly, then with the help of the occasional day hand, including Hayes’s now-fiancée.
Eventually Hayes returned to the ranch to live and was stunned at the condition of the place.
Since that time, all the brothers had pitched in as they were able, to reverse the process, but the list was long—painting and reroofing, spreading new gravel, repairing corrals and the long boundary fences.
“I assume your new hire has experience calving?” Wade asked out of the blue.
Trev made a noncommittal sound that Wade had no trouble interpreting. He rolled his eyes. “You hired someone with no experience?”
“She knows general ranch work. She’ll handle my chores, and I’ll do the calving.”
“We’re gonna need help.”
“We’ll be okay.”
“She’s not squeamish, is she?”
“Guess we’ll find out.”
Wade scowled.
“You ever heard that phrase about beggars and choosers?” Trev asked.
Wade ignored him. “Can she drive a tractor? What are her fencing skills?”
“She can fence.” Or so she said. He had a feeling that a place as fancy as the Sweet Grass Ranch had its own fencing crew. “Drive a tractor.” As long as it’s small.
A long beat of silence, then: “Why did you hire her?”
“She’s a warm body and we’re in need of one.
” Trev realized he sounded unnecessarily defensive.
“If it turns out she’s miserable at the job, we’ll let her go, but until then, I think we’ll all benefit.
You know—roofs and corrals.” Wade’s hard gaze didn’t waver.
He’d figured out that something else was at play.
Trev gave up. “She’s someone I knew from rodeo. She needs a job. I gave her one.”
“Then this is a sympathy hire?”
Not the kind of thing Wade was known for.
Trev put the last plate in the dishwasher and closed the door before turning to face his uncle. “It’s a let’s-see-if-this-pans-out hire.”
Wade’s eyebrows lifted as he raised his coffee cup. Waited. It was a tactic that had worked well back in the day when he’d known his boys had been up to something. It was still effective thanks to ingrained response mechanisms.
Trev debated about explaining what had happened with Maclyn at the Sweet Grass Ranch, just in case Wade thought Trev was letting the area below his belt buckle take control of the hiring process, then decided no. That was between the Benningtons and Maclyn. Wade could think what he wanted.
“I don’t see the phone ringing off the hook with people looking for work,” he finally said.
Wade let out a heavy breath. “Beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.” He stared into his coffee cup. “I remember when people wanted to work.”
“And you walked to school uphill both—”
Trev ducked as the pot pad used for hot dishes on the table flew his way, then picked up an oven mitt, weighing it in his hand.
“Truce?” he asked.
His uncle gave a snort. “For now.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “I’m out of ammo.”
*
And it begins.
Maclyn left the fairgrounds just after sunrise, having shivered her way through a shower in the dim light of the twenty-five-watt bulb.
She bought the probiotic paste at Lanes, which opened at a ridiculously early hour in order to host a daily rancher coffee klatch, pretending she didn’t notice the men staring at her wet hair.
She then kept the truck’s heater on high during the drive to the Tree Fork, sweating under the blast of hot air, and hoping that her hair would dry before she arrived.
Raisin inched across the console to set her chin on Mac’s thigh as she slowed to make the turnoff at Reed Farms Road.
Mac ruffled her little companion’s curly coat.
“We’re going to be fine,” she murmured as a gust of wind hit the side of the truck.
Mother Nature was not feeling the optimism today. “Just going through a rough patch.”
Which had been surprisingly easy to fall into. Just a couple of questionable decisions had put her in the position of proving the theory that homelessness was just one catastrophe away.
Trev Matthews to the rescue.
She could not screw this up.
A flash of headlights in the rearview mirror caught her eye, and Mac was surprised to find that she was not the only person heading to the ranch at an early hour. Had Trev hired someone else? Someone with calving experience?
He had her phone number—obviously, since he’d ask her to buy calf paste—so surely, he would have told her if he was reneging on their deal.
Right?
You have no way of knowing that.
The car followed Mac’s truck over the cattle guard before peeling off to park next to the flatbed Ford in front of the house.
Mac parked nearby and was relieved to see a small middle-aged woman climb out of the Subaru.
She pushed open the door and dropped to the ground, pulling the plastic bag of calf paste out with her.
A frigid wind blasted over her, lifting her still-damp hair, and Mac pulled up her hood after telling Raisin to stay in the truck.
“You’re the new hire?” The woman put a hand on her head to hold her knit hat in place.
“I am,” Mac said over the wind as she approached.
“Estelle,” she said with a warm smile. “You left while I was doing the upstairs yesterday, so I didn’t have a chance to say hello.” She held out a hand, which Mac took.
“I’m Maclyn.”
Estelle beamed at her before pushing open the door and stepping inside. “Look what I found,” she called cheerfully.
Trev looked up from where he was seated, pulling on his boots. “You’re early.”
“Wanted to make a good first impression,” Maclyn replied. “And yes, I got the paste.” She held up a plastic bag.
Estelle bustled around, hanging her coat and putting her lunch in the fridge. “Where’s his highness?” she asked Trev.
“Sleeping late. He was on calf duty last night.”
“Do you have new babies?”
“None last night. Wade brought the cows that were showing signs into the barn, but of course they’ve refused to follow through.”
“Women have their own timetable on these things.”
“Unfortunately.” Trev pulled his pant leg down over the boot top.
“Pssh.” Estelle waved a hand at Trev who grinned as he got to his feet.
Mac watched the exchange with interest. Now that she was working for the man, she was curious to discover what kind of guy he really was.
No. She wanted to know what kind of boss he was.
Trev shrugged into his coat as Estelle disappeared into the living room. He crossed the room to where Maclyn stood just inside the door on the wide, thick mat intended to keep snow and mud from being tracked into the kitchen.
“You’re not only early,” he pointed out. “You’re wet.”
Maclyn lifted a lock of still-damp hair, dropped it again. “Your observation skills are well honed.”
He met her eyes as he reached past her for the door handle, giving her an answering smirk that caused her to take unexpected notice. He waited until they were outside before he said, “About your horses.”
“What about them?” She was still working on the sexy smirk.
“You know that they can only stay at the fairground for a few days. Three. Maybe four.”
Mac’s stomach tightened. She’d hoped that the hard-to-read honor box sign was more of a guideline than a list of hard-and-fast rules. If not, why wasn’t it made legible?
“Wade used to be on the fair board. Something about liability and not wanting people camping on the grounds all summer long.”
A guilty flush warmed her cheeks. She’d totally planned to continue sleeping in her truck next to her horses and shivering in that shower every morning until her last paycheck came in. She could sleep in her truck anywhere, but her horses—
“Do you want to keep your horses here while you’re working for us?”
Mac stopped in her tracks.
“Something wrong?” he asked, looking back.
“How much?” The actual question that had shot into her head was why?
He shrugged. “Depends on how much hay they eat.”
Maclyn pushed her damp hair back, noting that some of the strands were already stiffening in the near-freezing temps. It would warm to over forty degrees the following day according to her weather app, then less than a week from now, they could expect a spring blizzard. Seesaw Montana weather.
“What do you think?”
That she had little choice but to agree. “Okay, as long as I pay.”
“You can haul them tomorrow. Or tonight. Whatever works. I just think you’d better get them off the fairgrounds.”
“I’ll do that.” She swallowed dryly. “Thank you.”
“No big deal.”
She fell back into step with him. “If you say so.”
A sharp look had her regretting the words. “Why would this be a big deal?” Trev asked as they continued toward the barn.
“Honestly? I feel kind of trapped when I owe people.” Because until a few years ago, she’d never had to ask anything of anyone. Things were simply taken care of, before Frank screwed them over.
“It’s a job perk.” He shot her a serious look. “Besides, it may be more of a case of me owing you.”
“You don’t,” she said stiffly.
“If what you say about Brooke is true, then yeah. I think I do.”
Maclyn’s expression grew as chilly as the wind whipping their coats. Trev let out a silent sigh. “I didn’t mean if.”