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Bareback

Copyright © 2003 Chris Owen

Illustrations Copyright © 2003 KL Gaffney

All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address Torquere Press, PO Box 4351, Grand Junction, CO 81502.

ISBN: 0-9748202-6-1

Printed in the United States of America.

Torquere Press electronic edition / August 2003

Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, PO Box 4351, Grand
Junction, CO 81502. http://www.torquerepress.com.

Dedicated

To my husband.

--C.

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Bareback

Bareback

Part One

Chapter One

Jake twisted the wire around the screw head and cut it with a snap of the wire cutters.

Wiping sweat from his forehead, he squinted into the sun, looking down the field toward the big house, and cussed under his breath. Where the hell was Tor? The bastard was supposed to be helping fix the fencing in the back field. They had to move fifty head of cattle in here in the next day or so, and the storm last week had snapped wire all over the place. Jake cursed again, not seeing any sign of anyone, much less Tor, coming to lend a hand. He put the tools in the back of the truck and moved on to the next break.

Jake was just finishing up the south end of the field when he heard hooves coming up, nice and steady. He stood and leaned back on the fence post, watching Tor ride up.

Damn, but he looked good on horseback. Jake hated that Tor looked good at any time.

Sure, the man was a good hand to have around, but the most arrogant son of a bitch Jake had been cursed with in a long time, and no matter how dark his hair, or how strong his back, Jake wasn't about to put up with the shit Tor could bring with him just by entering a room. Besides, the man was just begging for a fight. Jake wasn't about to let him have it.

Tor swung down from the saddle and patted the horse hard on the flank, murmuring softly to the animal before taking his sweet time sauntering over to the fence.

"How's the work going?" Tor asked, checking out the latest fix.

"Slow. Could have used a hand about three hours ago. Still have the east side to do." Jake moved to the truck and got a water bottle, drinking deeply. "Where the hell were you?"

Tor grinned at him and slapped his thigh, raising dust from the denim. "Missy wanted me, now didn't she?"

Jake rolled his eyes. Of course. Missy. Barely eighteen and trouble in boots. Thought she was queen of the damn world, prancing about in tight jeans and tiny shirts, teasing the hired hands and torturing the young lads with a hell of a lot of 'look, but don't touch'.

Figured she'd go for Tor. Thirty–three, dark and strong, not a kid by any means. Sure she would find something for him to do.

Jake snorted. "Watch yourself, Tor. Boss finds out you're messing with the Princess you'll find yourself out of work and less your balls."

Tor stared at him and laughed. "Christ, Taggart, what kind of fool do you take me for?

No way in hell I'd play with that little girl. I was helping her break her filly. Boss was
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there, even." He smirked, then said, "You know what she named that horse of hers?

Pegasus. Pegasus, for Christ's sake. Calls her 'Peggy'. What the hell is it with that family and names? You know what 'Missy' is short for?"

Jake grinned and nodded slowly. Together they said, "Mississippi," and started laughing.

When they finished laughing at the name the Boss had seen fit to curse his vixen daughter with, they moved on to the next piece of fence and started working.

~*~*~

Jake thought that the ranch was about to burst. Too many hired hands, too much work, not enough time. They were getting the last of the hay in and trying to get cattle ready for auction so there were extra hands everywhere. Everyone was bone tired, working from sun up until long past dark, breathing in the dust and heat and smell of each other.

Nowhere to sleep, really. So many people around it was a matter of grabbing a blanket and bunking in the loft, or out on the grass if the night was clear, on the porch if it wasn't.

Most nights men just fell where they saw a flat spot and slept like the dead. A body could sleep well like that, tired from work, smelling sweet grass, listening to someone else snoring close by. And if the occasional slick sound of hand on flesh came your way, well, you did your best not to know where it was coming from. Even in close quarters a man deserved as much privacy as the darkness would provide.

But tonight wasn't a good night for sleeping. The air was electric and everyone was on edge. If it rained they'd have to wait for the hay to dry before putting it up, and they were so close to being done Jake could taste it. He moved through the barn, listening to the men talk quietly, everyone falling silent when the first roll of thunder sounded. Far away, but damn, if it rained…

Jake left the barn, a rough blanket over his arm. He didn't want to be surrounded by the stink of so many men, didn't want to feel the worry crawl over his skin. He'd spent enough time on the land to know that if it rained it rained. Not much they could do about it tonight; hoping it wouldn't was the best they could do.

He was heading out behind the barn to find a soft piece of grass when Elias called out to him. He stopped walking, waited for the other man to reach him.

"You seen Tor?" Elias asked.

Jake shook his head. "Not since early morning. Boss sent him to town in the old truck.

Haven't seen him since he got back, but I've been hauling bales all day."

Elias scrubbed at his face, the stubble on his jaw rasping. "That's the thing. He never came back, the bastard. We need that damn truck tomorrow. It may be a piece of shit, but it's got wheels and a bed. Fuck." Elias stalked away, calling out to someone else, still looking for Tor.

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Bareback

Jake stood looking at the sky, cursing. Yeah, they needed the truck, but why the hell hadn't someone clued in hours ago? Why did it take dark and oncoming rain before someone had to go looking for the big jerk? And where the hell was he? Tor was a smart ass, and too damn stubborn for his own good, but he wasn't a shirker. Most of the time.

Tor wouldn't just take off in cutting season, and he certainly wouldn't steal a truck to do it.

"Damn." Jake passed the blanket to a passing hand and stomped onto the porch, rapping at the door before pulling the screen open.

Missy answered, for once not wearing anything more revealing than her mother would.

She looked tired, and Jake realised she must have been putting up hay all day too.

"Jake. What's up?" she asked, managing to pull off a tired version of her 'come and fuck me' smile.

"Your daddy around, Missy?" he asked.

"Somewhere. Hold on. Want to wait in the kitchen?"

He shook his head. "Cooler out here, I expect."

She nodded and closed the screen door, letting the light from the hall spill out. In a few moments her father came out and Jake straightened up.

"Taggart? Something going on?" The man looked serious, his eyes creased at the corners.

"Not really, sir. Or, maybe. Tornado's not back. I'm going out on River to look for him.

Just wanted you to know."

"Goddamn…yeah, fine. Go get him. I swear, if that man isn't injured or stuck with four flat tires I'll break his legs. After the hay is in and the auction's done. Of all the times to have a man gone…" The Boss glared at the sky. "Rain coming. Take a tarp and try to keep dry. With luck, the lightning will pass us by, but it'll be wet before morning. Better take food, too; if Tor's been out all day he'll be hungry. Idiot."

Jake nodded and went to saddle River, loading up the saddlebags with a first aid kit, plenty of water and feed, food and blankets. He tied a couple of tarps on and headed out, following the only road to town, cursing the dark and wondering how he'd spot the truck if Tor had decided to go across land. If the truck had gone off the road, or had a flat, someone would have stopped to help out.

Jake rode for almost two hours, watching the sheet lightning light up the sky from over the horizon. Looked like the storm was moving off to the west of them; Boss was right, they'd not get the lightning, but they were going to get the rain. As if the rain had been waiting for him to admit it to himself, the clouds suddenly let loose, fat drops hitting him with cold smacking sounds. The rain took only moments to get heavy, and as Jake crested
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one of the few hills in the area he saw a flicker of light to the east. Peering through the rain he was pretty sure it was a campfire, so he turned River off the road and headed toward it.

Before he was even halfway he was soaked to the skin and the fire was out, unable to withstand the onslaught of rain. Without the fire to guide him he could only hope he was heading in a direct path to where it had been, and he slowed River down, letting the horse pick his way through the field, making sure the animal didn't step into a hole or slide on the mud.

Jake thought he must have gone past the fire, or even imagined it, he had been making his way for so long. Lightning flashed, this time a little closer; the storm was turning. He kept moving forward, and the next flash brought him an image of the truck, just to the left and about seventy feet away. He swung River gently and headed over.

As he dismounted and tried to soothe River, skittish from the storm, Tor appeared on the other side of the truck, bobbing up like a jack in the box.

"Took you fucking long enough," Tor yelled, his voice muted by the rain.

Jake froze, incredulous. Tor came around the front of the truck, wet clothes stuck to him and covered in mud. It would have been amusing, if not for the fact that Jake was just as wet. Tor’s attitude was making a bad night worse, and Jake was too tired, wet and plain fed up to coddle the bastard.

"I've been out here for fucking hours! Were the hell were you?" Tor roared.

Jake pulled back his arm and let fly, catching Tor's jaw with a neat right. Tor fell back, though Jake was pretty sure it was because he slipped on the mud and not because of the punch.

Tor lay in the mud, staring at him. Jake watched him for a moment and then turned back to River and started unsaddling him. Tor was a horseman, and Jake knew that if they were going to have a fight, and it looked like they were, Tor wouldn't start up while Jake was working with the animal.

He tossed the saddle over the side of the truck bed, and rummaged in the saddlebags for dry feed. He gave River a couple of apples and some water, keeping an eye on Tor, who was now standing, shaking with anger. Jake decided it was a good thing he was mad at Tor, 'cause shit, the man was soaked, everything clung to him and he looked hard and lean and completely touchable. Yeah, best to be pissed at the jerk when he looked like that.

Jake stepped away from River and advanced on Tor, who didn't wait for a written invitation. Tor lunged at him and they slipped in the mud, falling backward. Jake had a moment to realize that Tor was on top of him, then a fist landed on his shoulder with a painful smack and they were grappling with each other, rolling in the mud, blinded by the 8

Bareback

rain and flying muck. They fought without any finesse, most punches missing their mark entirely, tangled in flailing arms and restricted by the cling of wet material.

As they rolled away from the truck Jake got a knee down for leverage and gripped Tor by the shoulders. "What's wrong with the truck?" he grunted, as Tor pushed back and they rolled again.

"Fuck, I'm not a mechanic. You tell me." Now Tor was on top of him again, and there was no way that Jake was going to let that happen. Not if he wanted to avoid Tor knowing what the man was doing to him, anyway. Jake kicked out with is right leg and hauled hard with his left arm, throwing Tor off. They scrabbled to their knees and swung at each other again, water running down their faces, mud caked in their hair.

"Fuck," Tor swore as Jake's fist connected with his jaw again. "Leave my face alone, you bastard. Not my fault I'm prettier than you."

Jake gave him a tight grin and launched a fist full of mud into that pretty face, then spun on his knees and ducked as Tor retaliated with a handful of his own.

Things deteriorated after that. Jake figured that when two grown men start flinging mud at each other instead of fists it was pretty clear the fight was over. All that was left was to figure out who won.

He got to his feet and started scraping mud off his arms, leaning against the truck. Tor moved to his side and Jake glanced at him, then ducked, fast, seeing the unexpected roundhouse flying to his head.

"Jesus, Tor! What the hell's gotten into you?" Jake demanded, stepping neatly to the side and grabbing at the arm that sailed over his head. He held fast to the wrist, twisting it up and back, forcing Tor into the side of the truck. Jake was well and truly pissed now.