Rough Stock (18 page)

“Well, at the risk of ending up like the gate, I’m going to have to argue with you,” he told her.

Rowan blushed.

“Sit down, anyway,” he said as they reached the house. “Get off your feet for a little bit.”

Before she could argue, he had already settled himself into the kitchen, washing his hands at the sink.

She hovered a bit, but he ignored her entirely, figuring the best way to win an argument with the woman was to just not have one. He found potato salad in the fridge and bread in the pantry and finally, after several minutes, he heard her sigh.

“Just for a minute,” she finally said before she headed out the front door.

Through the window, he saw her lower herself into one of the rockers.

Willow seemed agreeable to almost everything he put in front of her, except mustard. She liked her roast beef plain and her milk dosed with chocolate syrup. Seth fixed a plate for Rowan but doubted she would actually eat it. He covered it and put it in the fridge, instead starting a pot of fresh coffee.

When he stepped out onto the front porch, he found her awake in the chair, but her eyelids were drooping. “You really do need to get some rest,” he told her, passing her the cup. He wished it was decaf.

“I’m all right. I do work the night shift every week. I’ll survive.”

Seth slid down into the chair next to hers. “What’s Cheyenne like? Living there, I mean. I’ve only spent a few nights there.”

“Loud,” she said, lifting her mug to her lips. She took a long sip and closed her eyes. “Oh God. Thank you so much.”

He nodded. “Loud, huh? I believe that.”

Rowan leaned back into the rocker. “I miss the quiet in the morning. Just the wind and the birds.”

“I like to take a minute before the day starts, too. Watch the sunrise.”

She smiled. “I’m glad to be back, in spite of everything. I never wanted to leave.”

He sighed. “I understand why you had to.”

She looked at him, eyes wide. “You don’t hate me?”

“Hate you? Rowan, you were a kid. And, like you said, Court still
is
a kid. I
am
angry. I’ll admit that. I’m angry that he hurt you. I’m angry that I had a niece I didn’t know about for all this time. And I’m angry at the way Court’s handling it now. But none of that anger is directed at
you
, Rowan. I promise you. Not a bit of it. I don’t hate you. Or Court, though he deserves the bulk of the blame here.”

“And…” She cleared her throat nervously. “The others?”

“My brothers? They feel the same. Family’s important to us all, Rowan. And to have a little girl and not know her, that doesn’t sit well with us, but we can only move forward, fix what’s broken. We’ll give you anything you need.”

She nodded and took another sip of her coffee. “I hate to be anyone’s obligation, though.”

Seth set down his mug and turned to her. “You are not an obligation, Rowan. Let’s get that straight. I’m here because I want to be. And the others will help you in any way they can, too. You’re
not
an obligation, Rowan. You’re
family
.”

He helped her get the feed laid out for the flock and patted his front shirt pocket one final time. “I’ll take care of this tomorrow,” he vowed before he headed to his truck.

When he finally pulled into his own driveway, Walker was standing on the porch giving him some serious hairy eyeball. “How long does it actually take to pick up tractor parts these days?”

Seth shrugged and opened the gate on the truck’s bed. “Stopped to fix a fence line,” he replied, which was technically true. It seemed less complicated than telling the whole truth.

Walker sighed. “Okay. Well, we’ve got to have that spreader working by tomorrow morning. Anyway, Sofia’s got your lunch.”

“I’ll skip it,” said Seth, feeling guilty. “I’ll get the tractor up and running.”

Walker didn’t question him, because no one ever questioned him. He was Saint Seth, after all.

He didn’t want to stir up trouble by telling the truth about where he’d been, so he focused intently on getting the tractor’s motor in working order instead. But he should’ve been done after lunch, not just starting, and the long shadows faded into full-on night before Seth could finally replace the alternator and all the belts. His stomach told him he’d missed dinner, but the rest of him made it clear that sleep was more important. He dragged himself up to the shower and fell into bed, trying not to think about a woman with tortured brown eyes just a mile down the road.

*

He’d set his
alarm this time, to beat the sunrise by more than just his usual few minutes. He dressed in the dark, found new bolts in the storage room of the utility shed, and headed off down that one mile back to the Archer place. He didn’t get farther than the gate, not wanting to wake Rowan or Willow. He parked and set the toolbox down in the headlights of the Ford so he could see.

Just as the sun rose behind him, he finished replacing the last bolt, threw the rusty ones into the toolbox, and closed the lid. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Rowan coming toward him with a thermos in her hand. “If that’s coffee you’re offering, I’ll take it. ’Course, if it’s poison, I’ll probably still take it,” he told her with a grin.

“Seth, I didn’t expect you to come out here at the crack of dawn just to fix my gate.”

He shrugged, ignoring the ache in his shoulders. The hot coffee went down easily and warmed him all over. He swallowed it gratefully. “Just thought I’d get a jump start on the day.”

“Have you eaten?”

“I don’t usually do breakfast. But I wouldn’t turn down another one of these,” he said, holding up the already nearly empty thermos.

Up at the house, they sat on the porch, him with a proper coffee mug this time and Rowan with one of her own. They watched the sun’s rays fall across the valley and illuminate the snow-capped mountains in the distance. The birds sang happily, heralding the crisp, spring morning.

“How’s your dad?”

“The fluids seem to be working,” she told him. “It’s slow going, especially since he’s trying to heal from the surgery on top of the pneumonia, but no fever, at least.”

“Good. That’s good. And the flock?”

“It’s doable,” she said quickly.

Which meant it probably wasn’t.

If their calving season was about to start, then the Archers’ lambing season was just around the corner as well, and there was no way Rowan could handle it alone. But damn, he admired her determination to try anyway. This was a woman who wouldn’t give up without a fight, just like himself.

“I’ll stay,” he offered. “Help you get the morning feed down.”

“Oh, Seth. No. You don’t have to. I can—”

“No one’s saying you can’t, Rowan. But I’m here now anyway. Might as well make myself useful. And pay you back for the coffee.”

“The coffee’s for the gate.”

“No. No. I said yesterday I’d fix the gate. Coffee wasn’t part of the deal.”

“But—”

“Why are you arguing what’s been decided, Rowan? It’ll take less time to lay down the feed than we’re spending going back and forth on it.”

He finished his morning brew, because it was good, and because she’d thought to make it for him, before he set down his empty mug and stood up.

They worked side by side in the barn, laying out grain from the bags he’d delivered earlier, Rowan keeping up with him every second. Seth was as impressed as he was irritated. He’d rather she be back up on the porch, resting as much as she could, but he knew she’d never go for it.

By the time they finished, it was full light outside. Despite the chill, Rowan reached for the jacket she was wearing—his jacket—and started to slide it off. “I should give this back to—”

He reached out and pressed a hand to her shoulder. “Don’t,” he ordered. “It’s too cold out. And I don’t—”

He was interrupted by the sound of tires on the gravel. He turned to see a car coming to a stop in front of the house. Seconds later, a scowling Emma Archer stomped toward them, after slamming her car door shut so hard it rattled on its frame. Before she crossed the driveway, the front door opened, and Willow came out with a coat thrown over her pink pajamas, Wooliam in tow. “Hi, Aunt Emma! Hi, Uncle Seth!” she called, waving.

Emma’s angry stride broke as she glanced at the girl.

“Morning sweetheart. Wooliam,” Seth replied with a wave of his own. He caught Emma’s widened eyes and her mouthing
Uncle Seth?
to Rowan, who shrugged.

“Emma,” he said with a friendly smile.

The woman didn’t return the greeting or the sentiment.

“He fixed the gate,” Rowan told her, pointing toward the driveway.

Emma’s gaze followed the gesture. “Okay,” she said slowly.

“Well,” Seth declared, defusing the tension, “I better get back. Thanks for the coffee, Rowan.”

He nodded again to Emma, not harboring any actual ill will toward the woman, but all the same wishing she wasn’t here. He much preferred his quiet moments alone with Rowan. They were much better, it seemed, than his quiet moments alone with himself. Though he wouldn’t let himself look too closely at why that was.

‡

R
owan rose early
the next morning, ready to get a head start on the day. She dressed Willow in her warmest clothes and bundled her into her coat. “Don’t get too far ahead,” Rowan told her as she buttoned her up. “You stay with the dogs. And—”

“I know, Mama.”

They’d already been through it all during breakfast, but Rowan was still nervous. It was the first time Willow would be so far from the house. A lot of things could go wrong.

Rowan pulled on Seth’s jacket and then unlocked the small closet in the kitchen.

Willow watched in fascination as Rowan loaded the Winchester rifle, better than the shotgun for this kind of work. She slid in a handful of cartridges and hoped she wouldn’t need more.

Or even one.

She thumbed the tang safety button and shouldered it with the padded strap. “Just in case, baby,” she told Willow. “Just in case.”

Outside, Rowan opened the dog run and let the pack out just as a truck turned into the driveway.

Seth pulled up in front of the house, apparently comfortable with the dogs at this point, because he only cautiously opened the driver’s side door before lowering himself to the ground.

“Don’t shoot. I brought another peace offering,” he said, handing her a thermos.

Rowan took it, unscrewed the top and inhaled deeply. A rich, dark roast warmed her senses.

“I thought maybe it was my turn to bring the coffee,” Seth told her.

“Oh,” she breathed. “You’re a saint.” When she glanced up at him, Seth had a strange look on his face. “What?” Rowan asked.

“Nothing,” he told her. “I’m just not a saint.”

Rowan smiled at him. “You fed my sheep, you fixed my gate, you brought me coffee. You’ve done more for me in just a few days than anyone has…well…ever. That’s a saint in my book.”

He didn’t seem to have an answer to that. He just sipped his own coffee as the morning light grew brighter around them.

Rowan wasn’t certain what he was doing here, but she was happy to see him, just the same. “There were wolves last night,” she said.

He nodded. “Yeah, I heard them at our place, too.” He eyed the rifle on her back. “Expecting trouble today? Because Court’s asleep and probably will be until lunch.”

She snorted. “I’m going to check the fence line on the north side. I think it’s been a while since Dad did it.”

Seth glanced at Willow and the three dogs circling her. “And Willow?”

“I can’t leave her here alone, and it’s days’ worth of work. I can’t wait for Emma and Troy. She’ll have to come. She knows the rules. We talked about it.”

Seth considered it for a moment, then nodded as though Rowan had asked for permission. Finally he said, “We taking the dogs with us?”

Rowan paused. “
We?
” she asked.

“You’re not going out there alone,” Seth declared. “Even with that rifle.”

“Our spread’s not as large as yours, Seth. It’s less than a mile one way, and—”

“Why are you arguing what’s settled?”

Rowan closed her mouth and held her thermos in her hands. Everything was easier with someone else around, and she’d be a fool to push away his offer of help, even though it made her feel guilty, like she was taking advantage of his generosity without giving him anything in return. Which reminded her she
did
have something, though it wasn’t much by comparison.