Unbroken: Country Fever, Book 3 (27 page)

He walked right up to the mare, patted her nose and let her get acquainted with his scent. Then he circled around to her hind leg, which she held inches off the ground.

He dug the frog he often carried out of his back pocket.

“Lookit you. When the hell did you become a cowboy, Chris?”

He glanced up to see the appreciation in his lover’s stare—a look that made his insides knot and created a dull ache in his groin.

“Guess it was always in me.” Christian ducked his head and caught the mare’s leg. She danced a little and he had to release her. When he tried to look a second time, Tucker soothed her with a few clicks, and she let him bend her leg up to look at her hoof.

It was cleaned out—something Tucker had probably done yesterday after checking on her. But sure enough, there was some swelling in the same place the last horse had shown lame.

“Uh.”

Tucker neared at Christian’s grunt. “What is it?”

“It looks the same. Think they’re stepping in a hole somewhere around here?”

“Dunno. Let’s walk the property and see what we find.” Tucker took off, and Christian let the horse go with a pat and a soothing word of thanks.

They crisscrossed the pasture, gazes to the ground, looking for rodent holes or a rain washout. When Christian spotted the earth churned up near the fence, he gave a shout.

Tucker came at a jog. For a minute, Christian could hardly breathe. The hard roll of muscles reminded him too much of the way Tucker felt moving inside him. His cock twitched to life.

“What’d ya find?” Tucker stopped inches from him. Too close. It was impossible for Christian to stop himself from hooking a hand around Tucker’s nape and hauling his mouth to his.

Their lips met briefly but hard. Desperation rode just below the surface, but they both stifled it. There was work to do.

Christian released him and pointed. “See that?”

Tucker moved closer to the spot where a deep rivet had been cut into the ground. He crouched and plowed his fingers through the patch. “What do you think caused that?”

Christian drew near, and when he spotted the rough cuts, he knew what they were up against.

That bloodbath.

“I’ve been shoveling dirt for many years. I’d say that was made by a man.”

Tucker swore. He launched to his feet so fast, Christian rocked back on his heels. “You sayin’ someone trespassed on my land and dug up this patch? A piece of ground the horses traverse all the time to get to the water trough?”

“Looks like it.” It was cut in such a way that a horse’s leg would twist. Whoever had dug this knew what they were doing.

“Fuck me,” Tucker ground out. He doffed his hat and raked his fingers over his shorter hair. The outline of his skull was more apparent now after his haircut, but Christian wished he’d had a chance to feel those longer strands under his hands before he’d cut it.

He shook himself. “What do we do now?”

“Not you. Me.” Tucker whirled on a heel and headed back to the truck.

“Wait, man. You aren’t cutting me out of this. If there’s a fight, I’m damn well going to stand at your side.”

Tucker slowed. Pivoted to face him. Was he remembering his fistfight at The Hellion? He still bore the cut and Christian’s eye was at its peak of bruised splendor, a myriad of black, blue and green.

“We stand together,” Christian said.

Tucker waited for him to catch up, then he hooked Christian around the nape the same way he’d done minutes before. The fever in his eyes ignited a fire in Christian. Lust surged to the surface, prickling on his skin like the faint sheen of perspiration.

“I hope you’re up for a vigilante watch tonight.” Tucker stared at his mouth until Christian thought he’d lose his fucking mind.

He gripped his shoulder and pulled Tucker more tightly against him. Right now he could think of nothing better than sitting in a field with Tucker, watching for intruders. Except maybe bringing Claire along.

“I’m there,” Christian said.

Tucker skimmed his mouth over Christian’s. The rough mash of lips and tangle of tongues ended too damn quickly. He released him and started toward the truck—all ranch business again. Over his shoulder he tossed, “‘Kay then. Bring the condoms.”

Letty had been feeling overly tired this morning, and it worried the hell out of Claire. Her aunt was no spring chicken, so every cough and flu sent a panic through her.

She slid the old Buick crookedly into a parking spot in front of the drugstore, thoughts of stockpiling cold medicines bright in her mind. Sure, Letty hadn’t so much as wheezed or sniffled, but one couldn’t be too cautious.

At dawn, Claire had found her heavy-eyed aunt at the stove, flipping pancakes, and insisted she return to bed. Then she’d assumed the flipping. Setting thick stacks of cakes in front of her men had given her a warm feeling.

Tucker had dug in with enthusiasm and grunts of appreciation, while Christian wielded his fork more cautiously. He had eaten every bite though.

She climbed out of the car and approached the storefront. At this time of morning, the streets were filled with foot traffic. Tourists and hunters in for the upcoming season and some of the regular townspeople milled the sidewalks.

A young girl with all the curves and swagger of a Wyoming rodeo queen bounced up to the drugstore. There was an awkward moment where they reached the door at the same time.

Claire stepped back, aware of the girl’s polished appearance and expensive outfit. Her gleaming high-end cowgirl boots stretched over golden, tanned calves, making Claire look like she had toothpicks stuffed into boots stolen off a homeless cowboy.

The girl passed in front of her without so much as a smile or thank you that Claire held the door. Perfume-scented air trailed behind.

Claire hung back a second to allow a laughing woman with luxurious dark hair and two rugged cowboys to tumble out of the drugstore. The way they clung so close to each other reminded Claire of what she had with Tucker and Christian. When one cowboy leaned in and planted a smooch on the woman’s cheek, the other said, “Hey, she’s still mine during the day, remember?”

“That deal’s been off for months.”

Shaking her head and smiling, Claire entered the building.

Inside, Claire made a beeline for the cold meds. On the way to the back of the store, she passed an older couple that frequented the diner. Just making eye contact forced her to stop and listen to them talk about their son who was overseas in the military and how he’d been injured. That morphed into five minutes of political talk, which Claire couldn’t care less about.

Finally, she wished them a good day and headed to the medicine aisle. There, smack in the way, was Marcella Evans, the craft shop lady.

Bracing herself for an onslaught of gossip sometimes more disturbing than what people told Claire from their own lips, she plastered a smile on her face and eased past her.

“Morning, Claire, honey. Haven’t seen you or Letty in the shop for a bit. Not since you gathered all of those supplies for what was it…?” She pressed a finger to her lips in thought. “Oh yes, the alpaca.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Claire caught a jerk of movement. In the main aisle, the rodeo queen’s head had snapped up. She stopped in her tracks.

“What was it you were making for the alpaca again, dear?”

Claire darted a glance at the girl, who was listening intently, a crinkle between her perfectly sculpted brows. “Uh…just some ornaments for her to wear to the fair.”

“Oh yes, that’s it. You plan to show it yourself?”

At that, the rodeo queen drifted into the medicine aisle. Three of them in the small space made Claire want to spin and flee.

She planted her heels. “Yes, I entered the paperwork yesterday.”

“Do you have a picture of the items you made for the alpaca?” Marcella asked, leaning in and fogging the air with a cloud of wintergreen mints. “I like to see what my customers make with the supplies they buy.”

“What?” Claire grew aware that the rodeo queen was staring. She wasn’t even pretending not to eavesdrop on their conversation by looking at anal suppositories or nicotine gum.

“A picture?”

“Oh yeah, I have a picture on my phone.” Claire dug in the back pocket of her worn jeans and produced her phone. After flipping through some photos, she held up the device for Marcella to see a shot of Boom Boom bedazzled in ankle cuffs and a rhinestone head wrap.

“That’s Boomerang,” the rodeo queen exclaimed in a breathy whisper.

Claire gaped at her. “What? How do you know?”

If this girl was one of Tucker’s conquests…

No, she didn’t even look eighteen. He wouldn’t dally with an underage girl.

Then again, maybe the rodeo queen wasn’t as young as Claire suspected. Shit, now she just felt old, worn and put away wet.
I thought I couldn’t feel any less glamorous.

“Excuse me, Marcella. I have to just…”

The older woman looked between Claire and the other girl, obviously hungering for more gossip. But she gave a nod and moved off toward the shampoo.

“You must be the woman living on Tucker’s ranch.” The girl narrowed her eyes.

“I am. And you are?” She tried not to let the worry about Tucker’s previous lovers seep into her voice. She drew a deep breath.

“Darcy Langley.”

Claire felt her eyes flare with surprise. The top forty country radio station drawled in the background. “Tucker’s…?”

“Cousin. Leon’s my dad.”

Ahh. Spoiled daddy’s girl with the thousand dollar boots.

When Claire didn’t respond, Darcy snatched the phone from her hand. Before she could get over her shock, Darcy had thumbed the screen, looking at several shots of Boom Boom and landing on one Claire had shot the previous day of Tucker, Christian and herself. Their heads were close together and the sun was fading in the background.

Claire grabbed her phone out of Darcy’s hand. “What do you need from me exactly?”

Darcy’s lip curled. For a staggering moment, Claire could only see Darcy’s brother in that snide expression. “Boomerang is my animal. Tucker has been raising it up for me to show at the fair. Didn’t you know?”

A cold finger trailed down Claire’s spine and prodded her stomach. “What are you talking about?”

“Boomerang is mine. I’m showing her next week.”

Claire’s mind reeled. Why hadn’t Tucker told her? Hell, if she’d known she wouldn’t have gotten so attached to the beast.

And who the hell was Darcy to waltz in and take over Claire’s efforts? “No, you aren’t.”

Darcy rocked back on her heels as if she’d been slapped. Then again, hearing the word no might be equivalent to a palm against her pretty, powdered cheek.

“Tucker and I have a deal.”

“Do you?” Claire countered. Anger rose inside her, for every time she’d remained silent and allowed people to spill their guts to her and had never given her opinion or thoughts. That was the same as being walked on for many long years.

But this rodeo queen wasn’t going to win the blue ribbon for Boom Boom.

“Listen, lady…” Darcy raked her gaze over Claire, from her shabby boots to her white shirt with the dirty hem where she’d wiped her hand before leaving the ranch, “…I don’t know who you are to Tucker exactly. But he and I are family. Family sticks together.”

She snorted. “Yeah, I know all about families that try to bully and intimidate into getting their own selfish ways.”

Darcy took a hasty step forward into Claire’s space. She resisted the urge to shove her back. Or not…

She smacked the heel of her hand off Darcy’s shoulder. Despite looking as if she still weighed as much as she had at birth, the girl was solid. Had some muscle. She didn’t move.

But she did retaliate. Fury washed over her face. “You little bitch!” Darcy sank a hand into Claire’s curls and twisted ruthlessly. The tug brought instant tears to her eyes—tears that only infuriated her.

Claire reached for Darcy’s coiffed ‘do and yanked the highlighted strands. Several clung to her fingers like cobwebs.

A roar of anger erupted from Darcy. She pulled so hard on Claire’s hair that she was sure to sport a bald spot for months. She bit her lip against the pain and slapped Darcy across the face.

Darcy jerked on her hair, and they both toppled off balance into the suppository display. A flurry of slaps and knee jabs ensued. Claire’s head spun from the craziness, but she managed to hold her own.

She got Darcy on the dirty carpet and pinned her with a knee on her toned gut. She glared down at the girl’s face. If she was underage, Claire was so going to jail for assaulting a minor.

But it would all be worth it. On behalf of Tucker and Christian, for the crap both of them had put up with between Leon and Dale, Claire would show this girl who had strength.

All at once, it struck her. She loosened her hold on Darcy’s hair but continued to kneel on her. The magnitude of what she could do here made her nerves spark with excitement.

“I’ll strike a deal with you.”