Page 22 of The Cowboy and the Stray

Stupid. I was stupid to even let my mind wander down that path. Calder Maddox was as remote and untouchable as the craggy hills that hemmed this valley. Even if I stayed, even if I built something like a life here in Texas, he would never be mine.

The melancholy turn of my thoughts was abruptly derailed as I felt a blush creep up my neck, certain Midge had somehow peered into my very thoughts about Calder. My gaze flickered up, embarrassed, only to find the pile of completed darning set to one side, her brow furrowed in concentration as she read. A tattered paperback, all garish colors and shirtless cowboys, was propped open in her hand.

"Where on earth did you—" I sputtered.

Midge's cackle of laughter was loud, one hand pressed to her chest as she wheezed. She cut me off with a wave of the book, her eyes streaming.

"Oh, honey," she gasped. "If you could see your face right now."

My cheeks flamed as I realized my jaw was hanging open. I closed it with a snap, reaching for indignation. "Well, you just surprised me is all. I didn't take you for the romance novel type."

"Pfft. Who has time for the real thing? Ranching is a full-time job." She tossed the book onto the table between us. "A little fictional cowboy loving never hurt nobody."

I stared at the rippling pectorals, the waterfall of honey-colored hair. I thought of the way Calder's flat, heavily muscled chest, had felt under my hands this morning. His big, scarred hands and the way the calluses had rasped against the bare skin of my waist, how they'd feel against my breasts, my... Yep. Definitely not helping.

Midge was watching me, a knowing glint in her eye. "You're welcome to borrow that, if you're keen. I've got a whole stack of 'em squirreled away for slow nights."

My flush deepened to a truly alarming degree. "I'm good, thanks," I mumbled, fixing my attention on the quilt with studied intensity. Focus. Thread. Needle. Not pectoral muscles.

Midge just laughed again, that deep, scalding cackle that invited you to share the joke. "Suit yourself. But if you change your mind..." She let the offer dangle, her expression utterly unrepentant.

I shook my head, not quite able to bite back my own reluctant grin. There was something infectious about Midge's mirth. And lord knew I needed a reason to smile, even at my own expense. Great. I’ve been adopted by a smut-reading grandma.

I let the homey sounds wash over me, the tension of the last few months slowly leaching out of my knotted shoulders.

This wasn't home. I knew that. I wasn't naive enough to start mistaking simple kindness for something deeper, something lasting. But for now, for this sun-soaked moment, it was enough. The gentle tug of the needle, the sweet tang of the tea, the solid presence of the woman across from me, so ready with wisdom and unvarnished affection.

I sank into the feeling, let it envelop me like one of Midge's faded quilts. Let it soothe the ragged edges of my nerves, the bruises on my body and my battered heart.

And when I finally tied off the last stitch, the rent mended if not quite seamless, a tiny piece of me mended with it. Not healed, not by a long shot. But better. Stronger.

11. CALDER

I made sure we were a good five miles out before I let the pack shift. Thankfully, we had quite a large parcel of acres. Didn't need Tess catching sight of something liable to send her running for the hills. Or worse, send her running her mouth, spreading tales best left untold. Some truths weren’t meant for daylight.

The last thing I wanted was her poking around, trying to dig up secrets she had no business knowing. Let her keep thinking we were out mending fences. She was already too close to things she doesn’t understand.

The meeting had gone about like I'd expected. All anybody wanted to talk about was the oil next door, and nobody knew much of anything about it. And our closest neighbors, and the subject of all the oil kerfuffle, the Colemans, had been suspiciously absent from the meeting. As soon as we'd been able to get away from dinner, we'd left Noah with Midge and Tess, and then headed out for a pack run. Noah would be able to join us on the runs once he went through puberty and had his first shift.

Reid gave me a long look as I signaled the all-clear and we dismounted, tying the horses to nearby trees. They'd be fine here munching on some grass. To his credit, Reid didn't say a word, just rolled his massive shoulders and let the change ripple through him. The others followed suit, fur sprouting, bones cracking and reforming, jaws lengthening into sharp muzzles. In seconds, the pack stood around me, wolves one and all, eyes glinting and tails lashing. My people. My responsibility.

My shift sped through me like a summer wildfire, heat and blinding energy tearing me apart just to remake me stronger, wilder. Scents sharpened, the loamy richness of the earth, the green tang of the trees, the hot musk of prey animals hunkered in their dens. Every sound echoed bright and crisp. The rasp of tree branches, the skitter of claws, the drumbeat of seven strong hearts. I breathed it in, lungs expanding near to bursting, and savored the fierce rush of it. Of being what I was, unfettered and unapologetic. This was freedom. This was home.

The last lingering aches of the day fell away as I lunged forward, my packmates fanning out behind me. We flowed through the trees like water through a streambed, tireless and unstoppable. The cool air sluiced through my fur, whipping away the last cobwebs of human frailty. There was a glory in this, in the bunch and release of powerful muscle, in the blood singing the timeless language of tooth and claw. It hooked itself behind my breastbone and pulled, daring me to run faster, farther, until civilization was less than memory. No walls. No masks. Just instinct and blood and bond.

Eli shot by in a streak of russet, yelping gleefully as he chased down a bounding jackrabbit. He was still more pup than grown wolf, too-big paws and overexcited scrabbling. But he'd get there. For now, I let him have his fun, purposefully not noticing when he detoured to check an interesting scent or roll giddily in a pile of dry leaves. Midge would keep him in line if she were with us. My grandmother had energy enough for three young wolves, and she wasn't afraid to use fang and growl to herd wayward pups.

Eli barreled into Buck, all wiry muscle and flashing teeth, sending them both tumbling ass over teakettle in a tangle of fur and mock snarling. Reid leaped nimbly out of the way, his strange not-bark huffing out in what could only be a laugh. He loped lazily alongside the scuffling pair, content to let them sort themselves out.

A startled yip drew my attention to Gray, who'd just face-planted spectacularly trying to vault over a downed tree. He picked himself up, shaking mulch and bruised dignity from his coat. I aimed a reprimanding growl his way, a wordless "quit showing off". He ducked his head, abashed, but his tail never stopped wagging. Still a mutt trying to prove himself. But he’s ours.

Eli bounded over to investigate, all bumbling curiosity. Quick as a snake, he latched onto the end of Gray's tail and gave it a sharp tug. Gray whirled, eyes comically wide, and took off. They zigzagged through the trees, ducking and dodging and scrambling, Eli's gleeful yowls floating back to the rest of us.

I let it go on for a while, until Gray's sides were heaving, and Eli's prancing took on a hint of a stagger. A gruff bark from me had them falling back in line, Eli still bouncing on his paws like he'd found a cache of rabbits, Gray panting but pleased with himself.

We settled after that, finding our rhythm as we wove through the shadowed tangle of oak and elm and cedar.

It hit me sometimes, how much we relied on Buck. How much this pack needed its roughhousing elder, the one who shored up its playfulness but also its wisdom, its caution. He'd ridden drag for my daddy, and my granddaddy before that. Always the last line of defense should something come snatching at our tails in the night. We all slept better knowing Buck had our back.