Rough Stock (21 page)

“Don’t tell me I don’t know him either. I do. I do know him. And I don’t know how it’s going to work—”

“Well, maybe you should give that some thought, Rowan,” Emma replied sharply. “Maybe you should think about it long and hard, before you go spreading your legs for something long and hard.”

“Get out,” Rowan growled and pointed toward the door.

“This is my house, too.”

“It was your house. You live in town now,” Rowan pointed out.

“So it’s yours again now? You’re going to move here? And fall in love with Seth? And have his babies, and Court’s not going to care one bit, and no one in town will have a bad word to say about it?”

Rowan felt heat creep over her face. Without wanting to admit it, even to herself, her thoughts had been straying down that path.

Emma picked up her jacket and shrugged it on. “You were naive once, Rowan. And it was understandable, because you were just a kid. But you’re a grown woman now. With a daughter. And there won’t be any excuse this time. None at all. You’ll just be a damn fool.”

Rowan followed Emma outside, if only to assure herself that her sister was gone for a while. Watching her drive away, she tried not to think about it, tried not to second guess what had happened in the barn. She was due for something—
something
—good in her life, damn it! And Emma be damned, Rowan was going to grab on to any little bit of happiness that came her way, no matter what anyone else thought about it.

She put a plate of leftovers in front of Willow and then went outside to stand on the porch to watch the sun sink down over the horizon and couldn’t wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow was all she had. She stayed for a long time,
could
stay, for hours, maybe days. But she finally turned away, hand on the doorknob, when suddenly the dogs exploded in a cacophony of barking and snarling. Rowan let go of the knob and dashed down the porch steps, toward the barn.

She rounded the corner, in the direction of the noise, and stopped short, all the breath leaving her lungs in a whoosh. Kinka, Jory, and Kono had two wolves surrounded, wolves who were diving in, snapping and retreating, trying to find a way past the dogs and closer to the barn, where the sheep were bleating nervously. Their terrified sounds seemed to only make the wolves more ferocious, more determined to get past the dogs.

Rowan sped back toward the house, legs pumping furiously. Behind her the sounds of fighting grew louder, more frantic. She burst through the front door and slammed it behind her, rattling it on its hinges.

“Mama?”

“You stay here!” Rowan cried, throwing the closet door wide. “You stay inside! Right here! Don’t open the door!”

“What’s happening?!”

“Wolves, baby!” Rowan replied, snatching the Winchester off the top shelf and running back toward the door. “Do not come outside!”

“Kinka!” Willow wailed.

“
Do not come outside!
”

Rowan threw the door wide and slammed it shut once more, creating a barrier between her daughter and the danger beyond. She flew down the steps again and back toward the barn. When she made it across the yard, the dogs were still there, still fighting. Jory and Kono had one pinned to the ground. Kinka and the second wolf were circling each other, jaws dripping, hackles raised.

Rowan was debating whether or not to move closer to the fray, to see if she could line up a good shot, when she caught shadowy movement out of the corner of her eye.

She spun and saw the lanky form of a third wolf moving between the barn and the hay shed. It was thin, winter-starved, and even in the dim twilight, its eyes shone brightly, hunger mad.

And it was moving toward her.

Rowan brought the rifle up, aimed down the sight, and squeezed off a round. But the distance was too great, and the wolf was moving too fast. The shot missed and she heard the metallic ping as it ricocheted harmlessly off the corrugated metal wall of the shed.

She cursed and gripped the lever, pumping another round into the barrel.

The wolf was moving faster now, undeterred by the danger all around it.

Rowan raised the rifle again, let off another round…and missed again.

The wolf sidestepped, though, and seemed to rethink the wisdom of continuing its pursuit.

For one hopeful moment, Rowan thought he’d move off, join the fight with his pack, and abandon her altogether. She loaded another round and let it off, missing again, but hoping to dissuade him from coming closer.

But instead, he broke into a dead run, his powerful legs churning up the ground between them as he dashed straight toward her.

Off to the right, Rowan heard Willow, banging frantically on the windowpane. The child’s muffled screams tore at Rowan, who couldn’t drag her eyes away from the wolf as it charged her.

“It’ll be okay, baby,” Rowan whispered, but she thought maybe it was another one of her little white lies.

Rowan couldn’t make it to the house, or the barn, or even the truck. She couldn’t hope to outrun this beast who now had her in
his
sights. Despite the hammering of her heart and the roar of blood in her ears, Rowan dropped to one knee. She pumped another round into the .30-.30’s barrel and raised the weapon.

It was too far.

The wolf was still a good seventy-five yards away, and Rowan couldn’t risk missing with the last round in her carbine. She forced herself to wait, blinking back tears welling in her eyes. As the wolf closed in fifty yards, forty, Rowan had to fight every instinct that was telling her to drop the rifle and run.

With a loud explosion of yips and snarls, she saw a blur of white fur and realized Kinka had broken off from the main fight and was trying to get to her.

Desperation caused her to falter, to look to the dog while praying he’d make it. But Kinka was hurt, apparently, and limping as he tried to get up to full speed. Rowan’s heart sank as she realized the dog wouldn’t make it. She turned back to the wolf.

Thirty yards.

Her face and throat were one hell of a target, kneeling as she was, right in line with his muzzle. The wolf’s gleaming fangs would shred her with ease. But it was the best angle for a body shot, and Rowan’s legs were about to give out anyway, terrified as she was.

Twenty yards.

Behind her there was a rush of sound, and the driveway was suddenly flooded with headlights and screeching tires. Rowan couldn’t risk looking away again. More help had come, but like Kinka, it was too late. Rowan’s finger rested on the trigger as she tried to breathe.

A door opened. Someone shouted.

“
Rowan!
”

It was Seth, and Rowan let out one sob at the sound of his voice. Oh God, how she needed him now, but she couldn’t tear her eyes from the wolf bearing down on her. Kinka had picked up some speed—he was in her line of sight now, but the wolf had gained too much ground.

Ten yards.

Thirty feet.

It had to be now.

Rowan held her breath, which was
wrong
, and she knew it, but panic had gripped her, and her resolve was fading with each second, and everything she knew about protection and predators seemed to fly out of her head in that one instant, replaced by one word.

Shoot.

Rowan squeezed the trigger.

The carbine exploded. The shot hit home. But the wolf had momentum. It stumbled but righted itself, determined to finish the kill. Behind him, Kinka launched himself at the enemy, latching on to the wolf’s hindquarters with powerful jaws.

Wolf and dog hurtled at Rowan, slamming into her and knocking her back. The carbine clattered to the ground, empty, useless. The wolf’s own jaws snapped over and over, just inches from Rowan’s face as she tried to push herself out of its reach, palms scraping over gravel and loose rock.

Kinka let go, and the wolf crouched. It sprang from the ground, directly at Rowan, but Kinka’s larger frame came down on him hard. The dog caught the wolf by the neck, and they collapsed to the ground.

The sickening snap and crunch of bone filled the air.

The wolf, trapped under the Pyrenees, heaved a final breath, then its eyes rolled back.

“Rowan!” Seth called again, and his heavy boots came into view. He grabbed at her arm, but she pushed him away.

“The dogs!” she cried, voice broken and raspy.

Seth turned into the direction of the warring packs. Rowan saw he had a rifle of his own at the ready. He fired off shot after shot into the air as he advanced on them. One wolf broke off and loped away. The third was sprawled in the dirt, bloodied, half-moving. Seth stood over him and finished him off then hurried back to Rowan with Jory and Kono yipping at his heels, still in a frenzy.

“Mama!” Willow shouted, and Rowan could hear her now. She whipped her head around to the porch, where the girl was standing half in the open doorway, barefoot and crying.

“You stay there!” Rowan cried. “Close the door!”

Willow reluctantly ducked back inside, watching them from the glass pane of the storm door.

Rowan pushed at Kinka’s shoulder, trying to help the dog to stand. When he had difficulty, she looked up at Seth. “Help me get him into the house.”

Seth passed her his rifle and lifted the huge dog to his feet. Kinka’s 160 pounds appeared to give the man no trouble as he coaxed the dog to the porch then gripped him around the middle and carried him up the wooden steps.

Rowan hurried to the door, both rifles in hand now, and opened it to let them inside. Kono and Jory followed, concerned now for their fallen leader.

Seth helped him onto the couch at Rowan’s direction, and he knelt before the guard dog to inspect his wounds.

“Is Kinka going to die?!” Willow cried between sobs.

Rowan secured the rifles then swept her daughter into her arms. “No, baby,” she said, holding Willow close. “It’s just his leg.” She held her breath, though, as Seth spread Kinka’s dirty, bloody fur, inch by inch, starting with the neck and working his way all across the body.

He finally nodded to them, and Rowan let out a sigh, feeling like all her energy had finally been sapped from her.

“Doc Chambers can look at him in the morning,” Seth declared. “I’ll drive him over first thing.”

“See,” Rowan whispered. “He’s going to be okay, baby. He’s going to be fine.”

Rowan herself wasn’t exactly fine, but she couldn’t let Willow worry any more than she already was.

“Can he stay, Mama? Can he sleep in my room?”

Rowan sighed. “Honey, we can’t get him up the stairs. But all the dogs are staying in the house tonight, okay? They can sleep on the couch.”

Willow’s lower lip jutted out. “Promise?”

What could Rowan say about the dog who’d saved her life? Except that he, and the others, always had a place in their home.

“Promise.”

Kinka let Willow cover him with a blanket, and though Rowan was certain it pained him to move, he licked her in the face appreciatively.

Rowan put her face next to his and hugged him gently. “Thank you,” she whispered in the Kinka’s ear. The dog responded with a slow thump of his tail. She lifted Willow again and carried her up the stairs, clutching the girl tighter than normal, but Willow didn’t seem to mind. Rowan lowered her gently into her bed and tucked her in tightly.

“I was so scared,” Willow whispered.

Rowan bit her lip and forced her voice to remain steady. “Me, too,” was all she could manage to get out. She planted a kiss on her forehead and left the table light on this time, given all that had happened. Slowly, with a shaking hand, she reached for the doorknob and pulled the door closed.

She was barely aware of Seth following her to her room. The tears welled up, and her shoulders shook, and Rowan knew she was losing the fight. When they were inside the bedroom, she closed the door and rested her forehead against it, unable to turn around, unable to speak.

“Rowan.”

She couldn’t turn around, couldn’t let him see her breaking down—yet again. She’d let herself get too caught up in daydreaming, in hazy, happy memories of farm life while ignoring the harsh reality of living here.

And maybe she was doing the same thing with Seth. Maybe his kind eyes and gentle voice and searing kiss were blinding her to the truth, that things could never work between them—for so many reasons. And maybe he knew it, maybe that’s why he was here. To tell her that
tomorrow
wasn’t coming.

“Rowan,” he said again.

But she couldn’t move, couldn’t bear for it to be over, yet couldn’t see a way forward. She was lost in her own darkness. If she asked Seth to lead her out, would he? Or would he turn away and leave her standing alone?

‡

S
eth moved in
behind her and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her hair, trying to forget that he’d come so close to losing her moments ago. Or seeing her hurt, which would have been just as unbearable. She shook in his arms, crying quietly, probably worried that Willow would hear.

He was silent for a moment, just feeling her against him, reminding himself that she was here and she was safe. He was calmer now. If it hadn’t been for Willow, he might have dragged Rowan into the house, stripped her bare to assure himself that she was all right, and taken her on the couch, if they’d gotten that far. Probably they would’ve only made it to the floor. But Rowan was better than that, better than the couch or the floor, and Seth was glad that in the time it had taken to assure Willow that everything was okay, he’d calmed down a bit.