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Sam “Buck”Buckard pulled up his mount at the crest of the small hill, giving the reins a light jerk as the big buckskin gelding danced and tossed his head. D-Day, riding one of his more challenging horses, a big Palomino named Cash, named after the legendary singer, Johnny Cash, came alongside him. Cash was one of the best cow horses the ranch owned and after this drive, he was going to retire to stud.
“My dad is about ready to hire you, pardner.”
“Oh, yeah? It’s really tempting.” D-Day breathed deep. “It’s freaking beautiful out here, Buck. What a great place to come home to.”
“That it is, my friend.” It was good to get back to his roots, remind him where he came from, and keep him humble and what he stood for. His mind traveled back to Chiara and her disdainful, lovesick sidekick. She could easily give him a big head and he didn’t mind getting knocked down a notch or two. High-class women equaled high maintenance. Best to remember that.
They were in the middle of their fall roundup and if Buck wasn’t deployed, he hightailed it back home to participate. The Bucking Horse cattle spent the summer grazing on the adjacent national forest land until the last week in September when they gathered the herd before winter arrived. It was challenging because the cows were scattered over a fifty-mile area of aspen and pine forests and small clearings. Right now, D-Day and Buck were rustling up the stragglers of elusive bovines.
He reached for his cell phone and not taking his eyes off the dark shapes, he hit the redial button, waited, then spoke into the mouthpiece. “Cheyenne, there are four or five strays heading back into the forest. Send Pete with one of the dogs to bring ’em in.”
He watched as a rider and one dog broke from the main herd. His horse threw his head again and impatiently tugged at the reins, and Buck gave him a second command, then settled back in the saddle. That slant of the late afternoon sun angled beneath the brim of his Stetson, and he squinted against it, the taste of dust drying in his mouth as he surveyed the state of the herd.
They looked good, fat and happy after a well-grazing summer.
Bucking Horse hands were making the final repairs to the vast network of corrals, preparing for the job ahead. Today was the final drive. The cut would take place the following day, when the calves would be separated from their mothers. That’s when the backbreaking work would begin. Tagging, vaccinating, and branding each calf, and dehorning and castrating those that needed it.
A rancher’s entire year and the viability of the herd revolved around that operation. Bucking Horse Ranch’s future and fortunes depended on it.
And had for over a hundred and twenty years.
He loved how his family’s ranch was steeped in history. He stared out at the aspens that lined the fence. They had stood for as long as he could remember. Slender, strong, flexible, able to weather any storm. He respected their tenacity and durability. He swore he learned everything he needed to know from those trees and his daddy and momma.
“Yeah, I envy you, Buck.”
Impatient with his rider’s stillness, the big gelding pranced and yanked on the bit, his hooves tramping down grasses.
D-Day laughed. “Is that called chomping on the bit, Buckaroo?”
A small twist of humor lifted the corner of Buck’s mouth, and he reached forward and patted his mount’s neck.
“Shore is. Let’s git them elusive doggies, D.”
“Yahoo and Hoo-Yah!” he shouted before digging his spurs into the horse’s side and taking off.
Buck chuckled and took off after him.
* * *
She stoodon the balcony overlooking the gorgeous turquoise-blue water. True to her word, Bree had given in to Sofy’s demands, and they were back in Greece.
The whole freaking team.
Who were currently riding jet skis all over the place. Those men did love the water, and she loved one man very deeply. It was clear to her that her friend Isabelle was still head over heels in love with Gator. Then there was Pippa—Philippa, a gorgeous redhead and Joker’s wife. Bree squealed when she found out that Pippa ran one of the House of Toscano Boutiques, and that Joker was her son. She loved Giorgia Toscano fashions. Then there was the beautiful, prim, and sweet Julia, Professor’s wife, who she knew relatively well as she had been at the embassy working on the USAID staff. Julia was now writing grants for nonprofits. Isabelle had given up her ambassadorship to move to San Diego with Gator. She was busy taking some time off to make a home for them. Isabelle, badass CIA Shadowguard operative, and even more impressive ambassador to Niger was being domestic. Did it get any better than that?
So yeah, Christos had invited them all to his eleven-bedroom, fifteen-bathroom estate for a whole week, and it was winding down. The boys were going to be off leave and back on active duty. She would return to her wonderful job.
She could say the honeymoon was over.
“They are just like kids,” Pippa said, her eyes following her husband as he opened the throttle and raced Gator.
“Definitely,” Isabelle said with affection. “Big, deadly kids.”
Julia chuckled. “Exactly. My husband is a sharpshooting child.”
They all laughed softly.
Isabelle turned to Bree. “I got news today from Harley.” She sighed. “I miss that girl. Anyway, Aleksei proposed. They’re getting married right away at a civil ceremony. We’re all invited.”
