seemed to be keeping to himself and a couple of the other drovers were talking by the fence. Dakota buckled shut a saddlebag and glanced in his direction, her hat pushed back from her face while she worked. She was pretty in a way he didn’t see very often. She wasn’t Cover Girl pretty. It was something deeper; the way she stared directly at a man and he could see both the softness and sharp intelligence behind those eyes, an alluring combination. He didn’t want a woman to look up to him, bat her eyes and laugh at his jokes. He wanted a woman to match him, and something told him that if she were properly invested, Dakota absolutely could.
The sun rose steadily higher in the sky, the light turning from rosy to golden. Dakota’s fingers moved with the nimble deftness of experience. Her voice was low as she said something to the horse, her words lost in the few yards between them. Andy had meant to stay away, but he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.
“You have enough food for the day?” Andy asked, heading in her direction. The cook would meet them at the first camp, but until they arrived they were responsible for carrying their own food. It was a question at least.
“I’ve done this before.” She put a hand on her hip. “I’d check on the little guy, if I were you.”
She nodded in Harley’s direction. He and Elliot, the most experienced ranch hand the Granger’s employed, were eyeing each other distrustfully from where they sat in their saddles. That didn’t look promising.
“What’s up with them?” Andy asked, keeping his tone low enough for privacy.
Dakota shrugged. “Don’t like each other by the looks of it.”
He laughed softly. “Yeah, I picked up on that.”
“You sure about that horse?” she asked, nodding in Romeo’s direction.
“You don’t think I know what I’m doing, do you?” he asked. She wouldn’t be alone in the opinion—his dad and brother had thought the same.
“I’m better at this than you are.”
Her tone held challenge and she was probably right. He was no drover, he was a businessman, and while he was excellent at making a profit and driving up the value of shares, cattle and drovers weren’t part of his expertise. Not anymore, at least.
“You may very well be,” he said, shooting her a grin. “But I’m a quick study.”
He didn’t know why he felt the need to compete with her. It shouldn’t matter, but he didn’t want her to see him as weak or needing her help. This might be temporary, but he was still in charge until his brother got back. She’d offered to meet him halfway at civil, but he was aiming at a whole lot more than that. He wanted her respect, but that would have to be earned.
“We’ll see.”
Andy shot her a rueful grin and headed back to his horse. He put his boot in the stirrup and grabbed the horn, swinging himself up into his saddle. He looked around at the team he’d be riding with, and he could see that they were solid in experience, if not all entirely friendly. Harley’s New Testament was still tucked into the front pocket of his jacket and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. Behind him, Elliot Sturgeon stared hard at a point just left of Andy, his reins held in a loose grip. He was good at his job and could have led this cattle drive. He wasn’t Andy’s biggest fan, either, which made this prickly.
“Okay,” Andy said, raising his voice over another hoarse crow from the rooster sitting on the fence rail next to the henhouse. “So I think we’re all pretty clear on our route. We’re heading due west for about a day and a half. We’ve got some newbies this time, so let’s not assume everyone knows everything—”
“Like you...” a low, gravelly voice said, and Andy glanced in the direction the voice had originated, only to see three drovers eyeing him with the same bland expression. It wasn’t worth the confrontation right now, but he could see they didn’t respect him. That could turn ugly a couple hours past civilization. He needed to address this now and a couple of different ideas flitted through his head before he settled on the words.
“I’ve never done this route, but I’m here because this is my family’s herd,” he said, keeping his voice even, and he let his gaze move over his team slowly. “You might like me and you might not. I might like you and I might not. Anyone who figures four days with me ain’t worth the money, drop out now and save me the aggravation. Anyone who makes trouble on this trip can expect a pink slip when we get back. No exceptions.”
No one moved, and a horse snorted. The drovers looked down, except for Harley, who looked straight at Andy, nothing against him yet, apparently. Dakota’s gaze didn’t drop, either, but her expression hadn’t exactly softened. Romeo started to prance in place, and Andy tightened his hold on the reins.
“Good. I take that to mean you’re all in. You’re here because Chet wanted you here or because I hired you. You’re all good at what you do, and we can make this a smooth ride. Let’s review the route.”
They’d ride to the first camp at Loggerhead Creek, where the cooks would be waiting. The cooks this year were Andy’s uncle and aunt, and they’d drive a horse trailer over with two pack horses. The next morning Andy and the drovers would set out for the foothills where the cattle were grazing. They’d take the pack horses with them to carry the kit they needed for their next camp. They’d cross the Hell Bent River, which lived up to its name during spring runoff, and they’d round up the cattle and camp there for the second night. Then they’d drive them back. They’d stop once more at Loggerhead Creek, where they’d camp again, drop off the pack horses, and then carry enough food with them to drive the cattle home. Four days. It was a pretty smooth operation. Chet had worked out the kinks in the last three years since his marriage.
“Any questions?” Andy asked, looking over the group, the morning sun shining at their backs so that he had to squint. No one broke the silence, so Andy gave a curt nod. “Let’s go.”
He pulled Romeo around. The other drovers kicked their horses into motion and they all set out at a brisk canter toward the western pasture. Andy hung back and then took up the rear. His earlier bravado was starting to wane and he glanced over his shoulder, back at the ranch.
He remembered the last cattle drive he’d done with his dad and brother. Riding out with the drovers had seemed like an adventure, except that his father had always talked more seriously with Chet. He’d ask Chet’s opinion; suggest different ways Chet could look at things. Chet got advice and Andy got criticism. He’d treated Chet like the heir and Andy was more like a visitor along for the fun of the drive.
Keep out of the way, Andy. Your brother has this one.
Andy, you’re going to get yourself kicked in the head if you keep that up!
Andy, why don’t you go start supper? We’ll take care of the rest out here...
It had always been like that. Chet and Dad had a kind of bond Andy couldn’t explain or share. They were alike—serious, quiet and immovable. Andy, on the other hand, had laughed louder and filled those silences his brother and father left hanging out in the stillness. And now, as a grown man, he felt the resurgence of adolescent angst. Andy had been better at ranch work than his father ever knew because, frankly, his father never stopped to notice.
Elliot dismounted and opened the gate that led into the pasture. The fence stretched out across the rolling field, shrinking and blurring into the distance until it dropped
