Turn and Burn Page 3

  Pissed off at her father and too proud to ask for his financial help, she used her celebrity, for lack of a better term, to land a job at Billy Bob’s Texas—the world’s largest honky-tonk. They’d stuck her in the retail clothing store. Her uniform requirement was wearing her Cowboy Rodeo Association Championship belt buckle and the medal she’d won for back-to-back national championships in barrel racing.

  As far as jobs went, it wasn’t bad. Management provided one free meal and one free drink per shift. With a women’s locker room for employees, she even had a place to shower. The frustrating part of being homeless had been moving her horse trailer every couple of days because she couldn’t afford to rent a space in an RV park every night.

  “Tanna?”

  She glanced up at Kyle and realized she’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t moved from the entrance to the trailer. “Sorry. Just spacing out.” She dodged Renner lugging her two suitcases and she brought the last of her belongings from her truck, dumping them on the deck. Talk about a pitiful pile.

  Leave it to Celia to mention what wasn’t in the pile. “So, you left all your tack in the horse trailer?”

  Tanna shrugged. “It’s been in storage. It’ll be fine another few months.”

  “But the branding—”

  “I won’t be there if I’m required to be on horseback for the roundup, so get that out of your head, Celia Gilchrist,” she warned.

  A sneaky smile curled Celia’s lips. “Fine. I’ll put you to work with the other womenfolk, getting food ready, since I doubt you’re supposed to be sliding around, twisting and turning in the dirt on your knee and ankle anyway.”

  “Wrong. I’ll be wrassling calves and making killer margaritas. We Texas ranch women are multitaskers.” She grabbed the suit bag and ducked inside. Like most trailers, the kitchen was in the front. The color scheme was dark brown and muted gray. The countertops and stainless appliances looked new, as did the linoleum. A bistro-type table with two chairs was situated in front of the far window.

  She walked into the living room. The walls were wood-paneled and the windows were covered with heavy plaid draperies. The carpet was a chocolate brown Berber. The tan-colored, oversized furniture and a square glass and metal coffee table took up a good portion of the living space. The big wall across from the couch was bare, probably for a flat screen TV—hers would look like a postage stamp on that wall. She started down the hallway and stopped at the first doorway. A small bedroom with a single bed and dresser. The next door opened into a full-sized bathroom. It appeared the remodel fairies had been busy in here too. A black marble-looking countertop with two sinks was on top of a white vanity. The shower also had a tub and the unit was enclosed by a sliding glass door. Her days of showering in truck stops were done for a while. The second bedroom was at the far back of the trailer. The paneled walls had been painted a soft ivory. The room held a queen-sized bed, built-in dressers and two long, narrow closets.

  “So? What do you think?” Tierney asked.

  Tanna grinned. “I love it. It’s perfect.”

  “The housekeepers put on fresh bedding this morning. Everything is furnished: towels, dishes, cookware and silverware. There isn’t maid service for employees. I wasn’t sure how late you’d arrive so I had the cooks leave you a couple eggs, a loaf of bread, a salad and some other odds and ends. It’ll hold you until you get to the grocery store. The closest one is in Rawlins.”

  “This is great. Thank you so much.”

  “We’re happy you’re here to help out this summer.” Tierney looked over her shoulder and then back at Tanna. “My sister Harlow will be job sharing with you. And to be honest, I don’t know how that’ll work out. If you have any issues with her, please come to me. Renner will tell you to go to him, but I know how to handle my sister.”

  “Thanks for bein’ straight with me, Tierney.”

  “No problem. Harlow will be here for orientation on Sunday morning. It worked out that there’s nothing going on tomorrow and you can go to Kyle and Celia’s branding. I’m sure you’re anxious to catch up with her.”

  “And Lainie. I haven’t met her son Jason and I haven’t seen Brianna for a while either.”

  Tierney smiled. “Brianna definitely rules the roost.”

  “Are you and Renner goin’ tomorrow?”

  “We’ll stay here and deal with the guests. I’m watching Harper and Bran’s little boy Tate so she can rest and Bran can help out. Renner is sending our hands, Hugh and Tobin. You could ride with them if you don’t remember how to get there.”

  She preferred to drive. “I have GPS. I’ll be just fine.”

  Renner yelled for Tierney and they returned to the living room. He handed Tanna a set of keys. “Extension numbers for the lodge are by the phone, as well as our cell phone numbers. If you need anything, just ask.”

  “You’ve done so much already. Thank you.”

  “See you Sunday morning at nine in the dining room.” Renner and Tierney took off.

  “We’ve gotta get goin’ too,” Celia said.

  Tanna hugged her. “Thanks for everything.” She turned and hugged Kyle too. “What time do the festivities begin tomorrow?”

  Kyle scratched his jaw. “Eight if you wanna help round up the pairs. Ten if you just wanna jump in on the branding portion.”

  “Need me to bring anything?”

  “Just a big appetite, because there’ll be a ton of food,” Celia said.

  “And a big stick to beat off the single cowboys, ’cause, darlin’, they’re gonna be on you like white on rice,” Kyle said with a grin.

  Tanna smirked. “Maybe I’ll take one or two for a tumble. Just to see how the local boys stack up to wild Texas men.” But part of her already knew one man in particular more than measured up.

  Don’t think about him. What’s done is done.

  After her friends left, Tanna brought everything inside and set about trying to make the place her own.

  Chapter Three

  August “Fletch” Fletcher stepped out of his blood- and shit-stained coveralls and kicked them across the concrete floor.

  He grabbed the soap and scrubbed his hands and forearms until pink-tinged lather swirled down the drain in the oversized stainless steel sink. When his arms were clean, he washed his face and neck. He needed a shower but getting the dust and grime off from the day spent in pastures and barns would do for now. Grabbing a hand towel, he looked around the cavernous space that was his operating room.

  The recovery stalls were empty. The chains and pulley systems dangled from the ceiling unused. He hadn’t performed any surgeries in here the last month—his mobile unit was equipped to handle most emergencies. He preferred to work on-site anyway. It was better for the animals, for the owners and for him.

  Besides, he couldn’t keep an assistant for more than a month and had to beg and borrow one from his local colleagues. So it made more sense to send those types of surgeries to his colleagues anyway.

  Fletch wandered down the hallway past his office and the lone exam room to the small reception area.

  Cora, his longtime office manager, was gathering her things, getting ready to call it a week. The first year he’d hung out his solo veterinarian shingle, he’d advertised for a receptionist. Cora had taken one look at the stacks of files, paperwork overflowing his desk, and jumped right in, so he hadn’t bothered interviewing anyone else. That’d been nine years ago.

  Now the woman was five years past retirement age, but if he even mentioned the R word to her, that sharp tongue of hers would slice off a layer of his skin. As good as Cora was at her job, Fletch was glad his practice kept him out of the office most days.

  “So, are you in a better mood than when you got here late this morning?” she asked.

  “I’m the boss. It’s my prerogative to be late. Maybe my mood was because I was running behind.”

  He’d woken to an empty bed in the motel room across town. Normally he’d be relieved his hookup from the previous night
had bailed, sparing him awkward morning-after conversation. But he was actually a little pissed off. He’d agreed to her no name rule only because he didn’t think she’d stick with it. After the intensity of their connection he definitely wanted to know more about her, and he’d lost the chance.

  “Maybe your mood had something to do with you waltzing in wearing the same clothes this morning that you’d had on when you left last night?”

  He laughed. “Possibly.”

  “It’s not funny, Doc. I worry about you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it takes more than just one night to find a good woman.”

  Don’t get your back up. “What makes you think I’m looking for that?”

  She peered at him over the tops of her glasses. “Because if you didn’t want that you’d never go out. You’d be content staying home by yourself. Which you are not. You are out all the time. If you’re not working—which you do, all the time.”

  Fletch wanted to argue with her, mostly out of habit, but he refrained because he knew she was right. His options were getting more limited. There weren’t many single women working on the ranches that made up the majority of his business. Being a large animal vet had its own set of problems, mainly being on call and on the road. He didn’t have walk-in customers like in a regular veterinary practice where the job entailed neutering, spaying and keeping family pets healthy.

  “The one last night must’ve had . . . some merit if you stayed all night with her.”

  “She did.”

  “So you’ll see her again?”

  “I hope so.”

  Cora smiled. “Good. Now, did you sign off on my vacation request?”

  Dammit. If he admitted he hadn’t even looked at it, Cora would read him the riot act because she’d also know he’d merely moved the papers from his in-box into his bottom desk drawer. So he lied. “Yes, I did.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  Before she asked specific questions, Fletch said, “You deserve a vacation, Cora. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  The hard line of her mouth softened. “Such a charmer. Just like your father.”

  Fletch grinned at her. Score one for diversionary tactics.

  “I’ll see you Monday.” Cora’s helmet of gray hair disappeared beneath the plastic hairstyle protector she wore rain or shine.

  “Night, Cora. Have a good weekend.” Fletch locked the front door after her and grabbed a bottle of water before he headed to his office. Seated in his padded chair, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes.

  Maybe it made him a fool, rewinding the events from last night, but he’d done it several times during the day. Each flashback a montage of her beautiful face. Laughing, lost in passion, teasing, her eyes dark with need. Then his thoughts would skip to the satiny smoothness of her flesh beneath his hands. The sweet taste of her, from her generous breasts to the slice of heaven between her thighs. Remembering the feel of her hands on him, how she hadn’t left any part of him untouched.

  Outstanding sex aside, they’d clicked on a deeper level.

  Wishful thinking. You didn’t do a whole lot of talking. She’s not from around here anyway. Chalk it up to a good time and leave it at that.

  But he couldn’t. When Fletch had woken up alone, he’d quickly put on his clothes and checked every car in the parking lot for a vehicle with a Texas license plate and found nothing.

  Then again, maybe their night of steamy sex hadn’t meant anything to her. She had warned him up front she wasn’t looking for more than one night. And honestly, how many times had he done that to women? Banged them and left with a hasty good-bye, and sometimes they didn’t even rate that. Too many times to count. So no wonder that bad behavior was coming back to bite him in the ass.

  Maybe it was a sign he needed to change his ways.

  He dropped his feet to the floor and moved his neck from side to side, hearing a satisfying pop. He still had an ache between his shoulder blades, which was a reminder he was overdue for a visit to the chiropractor. Months overdue.

  Putting aches and pains and mistakes out of his mind, he buckled down and updated his files. He took his laptop everywhere with him and was able to document diagnoses on the spot, but he liked to flesh out the cases while they were still fresh in his mind.

  Fletch didn’t notice three hours had passed until his stomach grumbled. He’d mostly gotten caught up from the last month. With the always busy calving season behind him, he looked forward to a slower pace. At least until he had to start preg testing cows in another few months. Switching over to the answering service to deal with after-hours calls, he set the alarm and left through the back door.

  Regardless of how many times he told himself he wouldn’t find his mystery woman at Cactus Jack’s, he drove there anyway. He sat in a booth with a clear view of the main entrance and ordered a burger and a beer. A few women approached him, and he was polite but cool. He killed two hours before he gave up.

  Usually it didn’t bother him going home to a dark house, but it did tonight.

  During a break in the action at the branding the next morning, Tanna leaned against the wooden corral and drained half a bottle of water. She’d been to plenty of brandings in her life, but most of them utilized a rancher’s roping skills by getting the calf into the position using the “rope and drag” method. Once the calf was on the ground, then a ranch hand would tie the feet together, immobilizing it for the brand, vaccination, dehorning and castration for the baby bulls. Or she’d been part of a chute operation. Where the calves were crammed into a loading alley and were moved into the chute one at a time, assembly-line fashion, with a propane-fired branding iron and the vaccinating, castration, dehorning all happening in one fell swoop.

  But the Gilchrist and Lawson ranches employed the “chicken catching” method of branding. Holding the calves in the big corral and releasing them into a smaller pen ten at a time. It’d take two hands to catch the calf and wrestle it to the ground. One person held the head, the other held the feet during the whole process. If Tanna had to choose a more efficient method—and it pained her Texas cowgirl ranch roots to admit it—the chicken-catching technique was definitely a lot more fun, even if it was a throwback to the good old days.

  None of the guys down in the dirt blinked about a woman in the trenches. But Kyle kept an eye on her and had signaled for her to take a break. Tanna appreciated his concern and that he didn’t make a big deal about it. She didn’t mention to anyone how badly her knee ached after only a few hours.

  As soon as Celia saw her resting, she strolled toward her, chatting with a Native American guy who had to be Eli Whirling Cloud.

  People who claimed Mexicans and Indians were the same ethnicity had been talking out their ass. Eli looked nothing like the Mexicans she’d been raised around in Texas—certainly nothing like her Mexican uncle from her mom’s side of the family. Eli was tall—over six feet, with a rangy, lean build. He dressed like a cowboy, wearing boots, jeans, long-sleeved shirt. His hat was shaped differently and he’d jammed an eagle feather into the hat band. Eli’s dark hair spilled into a long braid down his back. He appeared to be in his mid-thirties—a little young to be some kind of Indian wise man.

  He aimed a kind smile at her and offered his hand. “Tanna, I’m Eli. Sorry we haven’t had a chance to meet officially before now. Thought I’d wander over during a break in the action. It’s been a hectic morning, eh?”

  “I’ll say. Never been to a branding like this before.”

  “I’ve done my part. The rest is up to you,” Celia said to Tanna before she flounced off.

  Eli chuckled. “No pressure.”

  Tanna relaxed and smiled at him. “She is pushy.”

  “Celia hasn’t always been that way. She’s come into her own the last few years, so you won’t hear me complaining about the change in her, ’cause it is for the better.”

  “I’ve only seen her as the feisty Wyoming cowgirl who doesn’t take any crap.”
Tanna paused. “I’m curious to know what she told you about me.”

  “That you are a gen-u-wine Texas ranch girl. Tough as dirt. So I was happy to see she hadn’t exaggerated your livestock-handling ability. You were a real asset today.”

  She appreciated his compliment. “Thanks. But I’ll point out that you sound surprised.”

  He shrugged. “I was. I’ve met a few supposed Texas ranch women a time or two.”

  “Consider yourself lucky that you’ve only run across those types. They were the bane of my existence growing up in Texas on our ranch. Those girls whose daddies owned the biggest spreads and ran thousands of heads of cattle, never set foot in the corrals, pastures or barns, let alone helped out during branding. They took private horse riding lessons. So even if they wanted to ride one of their expensive horses on their family land, they had ranch hands to saddle up. They were all about the Texas experience, but not the work.”

  “So your folks raised you to do ranch work?”

  “Not originally.” She took another pull off her water bottle. “My mom cooked, sewed and ran the household. She wanted me to be like those girls—proud to tell people of their ignorance in what it takes to run a ranch. But I rebelled. Early as I can remember I spent most of my time outside with the horses and my uncle who taught me everything about livestock and ranching. Which means I’m hopeless at domestic things.” She snorted. “So I’m seriously lacking in any career fallback skills outside of chasin’ cans. I’m grateful for the chance to work at the Split Rock for a bit.”

  Eli pushed his hat up higher on his forehead. “I heard about your accident. To hear Celia talk, you’re needin’ my help.”

  Tanna felt him looking at her but she focused on the grooved edges of her water bottle. “I don’t know if anyone can help me.”

  “Why’s that?”

  She pointed to the group of horses at least two hundred yards away. “This is the closest I’ve been to any horses in nine months.” She finally met his gaze.

  His eyes were gentle, but shrewd. “On a scale of one to ten, how scared are you to get on a horse?”

  Tanna imagined herself holding her tack, standing outside the