Page 69 of The Cowboy and the Stray

It was worth the risk at this point.

“Go,” I said.

Ash dismounted, tied Ruckus to a tree at the edge of the field, and shifted.

It was fast, maybe three seconds, tops. The sound of bone and muscle rearranging was old hat to me, but it still caught my attention, the way her arms thinned out and her hands popped into paws, how the red-gold fur ran up her back like a flame. She dropped to all fours, shaking out the last of the change, and then she was gone, barreling after the cattle with a yip that echoed off the ridge.

The cows saw her and panicked, which was the idea. Ash cut through the herd, barking and snapping, keeping just enough distance to avoid the horns. She worked them like a pro, driving the lead steer back toward the holding pen by sheer force of will and a mouthful of teeth.

The rest of us just watched. Even Reid looked impressed.

Ash circled the herd twice, then lined them up and drove them right through the gate, herding the stragglers in with a final pass. When the last one cleared, she skidded to a stop, tongue hanging, and just stared at us, waiting.

Gray was the first to say it. “We’re keeping her.”

Eli was wide-eyed. “That was hot.”

Reid ignored them both and rode up to the gate, closing it behind the last steer. “Show-off,” he muttered, but he meant it as a compliment.

Ash trotted back to the group, then shifted back as quickly as she’d changed the first time. She gave us a toothy grin. “You’re welcome,” she said, brushing dust off her arms.

I shook my head, but I was grinning too. “Nice work.”

Ash walked over to Ruckus to grab his reins. “Buy me a drink and we’ll call it even.”

“You want one now?” Gray asked. “Because I’m about to pass out.”

As we relaxed a moment, I heard a sound, deep and slow, like a drum. It was hoofbeats, heavy and measured, coming from the other side of the ridge. I knew that sound.

Hellcat.

Midge topped the rise a minute later, riding her half-blind mare like she was leading a cavalry charge. She wore her battered apron over jeans, and a cigar was clamped between her teeth. She pulled up short, surveying the scene with a single sharp eye.

“You boys done crying, or should I come down there and do it for you?” she hollered.

Eli perked up. “Hey, Midge!”

She ignored him and steered Hellcat down the incline, straight toward the holding pen. Without slowing, she dismounted, snatched a lasso from Reid’s hand, and stalked into the herd like she was shopping for groceries. In less than a minute, she had one steer roped, another prodded toward the gate, and a third cowed into standing still just by glaring at it.

Reid leaned over to me. “She always make us look this bad?”

“Every time,” I said.

Gray watched, deadpan. “We’re useless.”

Ash grinned. “Speak for yourself. I just doubled my day rate.”

Midge dragged the steer out by the head, tied it off to a post, and pointed at us with the lasso. “You vaccinating or sightseeing?”

Eli was the first to move. He slid off his horse and jogged over to grab the tool kit. Gray and I followed, with Reid trailing.

Midge watched us work, not saying a word, but she was judging every move.

We finished three steers in record time. Ash supervised from outside of the pen. The rest of the herd watched with dumb curiosity, chewing cud and waiting their turn.

I tried to keep my head clear, but the adrenaline made it hard to focus. When we wrapped the last set and packed up the kit, Midge put out her cigar on her boot and stuffed it in her pocket.

“Not the worst I’ve seen,” she said. “But close.”