Page 45 of The Cowboy and the Stray

I stood slowly, hammer still in hand, and watched the stranger's approach. Even from a distance, I could tell it was a woman. There was no mistaking that white-blonde hair, glinting in the sunlight. She walked with a loose, rangy stride that reminded me of a coyote on the prowl.

As she drew closer, I got a better look at her. Lean and sun-browned, with a scatter of freckles across her sharp cheekbones and a smile that spelled trouble. She was dressed in scuffed jeans, a faded blue tank top, and weathered roper boots with spur marks on the heels. A battered straw cowboy hat sat cockeyed on her head, looking like it had seen more action than a Saturday night bar stool.

She sauntered right up to us like she owned the place, her eyes sparking with mischief. Up close, I saw that her smile quirked higher on one side and a thin white scar nicked her jawline. The silver and turquoise rings on her fingers caught the sunlight as she shifted the saddle to her other hip.

"Howdy, boys," she said, her voice rough and whiskey warm. "Name's Ash Navarro. I hear y'all are the Maddox pack and might be in need of an extra pair of hands."

I blinked, caught off guard by her brazenness. Most folks had the sense to call ahead before showing up looking for work, or at least drive up like civilized people. And yet here she was, acting like walking miles with nothing but a knapsack and a saddle was an everyday occurrence.

"Is that so?" I said slowly, extending my hand out of reflex and manners. "I'm Calder Maddox." I lowered my voice. “And we’ve got a human staying onsite at the moment, so tone down the pack talk.”

"Noted." She gripped my hand, her skin rough with calluses, and pumped it twice. Her grip was strong and her gaze direct when she said, "I've heard good things about the Maddox spread. Seems like y'all run a decent outfit out here."

"We do our best," I said, still wondering what I'd gotten myself into by shaking her hand. "What brings you out this way?"

"Oh, you know," she said with a shrug, "just driftin' till I find a place to light for a spell. I'm good with horses, good with cattle, and not too shabby with a wrench either. Figured I'd see if y'all had any work for a body."

I glanced at Gray and Reid, gauging their reaction. Gray just raised an eyebrow, and Reid shook his head slightly, but I could tell they were both intrigued despite themselves. We'd had drifters show up before, it was the nature of ranch work, but none quite like this. Plus, she was a wolf. I could smell it clear as day. Wolves turned up now and then, always had. Not usually females, though. Female wolves tended to be protected and cherished, as there weren't all that many of them. No idea why, but male wolves were born far more often than female.

Movement from the corner of my eye pulled my attention to the porch, where Sloane had stepped out, drawn by the commotion. She leaned a hip against the porch rail, arms crossed, and studied Ash with a glint in her eye that made me real nervous really quick. My sister had a knack for sniffing out trouble, and from the look on her face, she'd just caught a whiff of grade-A mischief.

Ash followed my gaze and let out a low, appreciative whistle when she saw Sloane. "Well, hello there, darlin'. Ain't you a sight for sore eyes."

Sloane's smile sharpened. "Likewise. I'm Sloane, Calder's sister and the one who actually keeps this outfit running."

Shit, she wished.

Ash tipped her hat. "I don't doubt that for a minute. Bet you crack a mean whip."

Sloane laughed, the sound raising the hairs on the back of my neck with foreboding. "Reckon you'd have to stick around to find out."

"Reckon I might just do that, if your brother's amenable," Ash shot back.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose, already envisioning the chaos those two could cause if they put their minds to it. Sloane attracted trouble like honey drew flies, and it seemed Ash was a whole damn swarm rolled into one.

A sharp *tsk* from the porch made us all turn. Midge stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, her gray eyes narrowed as she took in the scene. "God help us all, y'all letting another stray in? Like we don't have enough to keep an eye on?"

"Now, Midge," I started, but Ash just laughed.

"I ain't no stray, ma'am. I'm a professional drifter. There's a difference."

Midge snorted. "Uh-huh. I've heard that line a time or two. You plannin' to work or just run your mouth?"

Ash swept into an exaggerated bow, nearly dropping her saddle in the process. "Why, I'm the hardest-working vagrant you'll ever meet. I can rope, ride, wrangle, and charm the pants off man or beast."

"Leave your pants-charming ways at the door, missy," Midge said, but I saw the twitch of her lips she couldn't quite hide. "We run a respectable outfit here."

"Respectable's my middle name," Ash said, deadpan. "Or was it Rebellious? I always get those two mixed up. My mother called me Mi rebeldita. Her little rebel."

Midge just shook her head and disappeared back into the house, muttering about layabouts and fools.

Ash turned back to me, grinning. "I like her. She's got moxie."

"That's one word for it," I said, trying to wrap my head around the whirlwind that had just blown into my ranch. Hiring Ash would be like poking a stick into a hornet's nest. There was no telling what might come flying out. But we did always need help, and there was something about her fearless grin that made me want to give her a chance.

"Tell you what," I said slowly. "Why don't you come on up to the house, and we can talk specifics in the morning. If you're half as handy as you claim, I reckon we can find a place for you here. But I'll warn you now. This ain't no pleasure cruise. We work hard and we work steady, and I expect anyone on my crew to pull their weight."

Ash's eyes flashed with something like triumph. "Oh, I'll pull my weight and then some. You just point me to the coffee pot and tell me where to bunk down. I'm your gal."