Stacey Kayne - Mustang Wild

“Skylar,” Tucker said when she was quiet once more. “You’ve got to be exhausted. What do you say we call it day?”

“I’d like to ride her back to the ranch.” Her frown deepened. “But what I’d like don’t count for spit, or I’d be chin deep in a long tub filled with sudsy, warm water.”

Tucker chuckled. That had been another surprise. Though it was as dry as the desert floor, Skylar had a sense of humor, and she wasn’t as impossible to work with as he’d feared. In fact, they’d worked really smoothly together all day. Of course, the only time she seemed aware of his presence was when they switched mounts, and even then, their verbal exchange was minimal, each knowing what needed to be done without prompting from the other.

“Suppose I should be happy she’s letting me sit up here without trying to get me under her hooves,” she said with a heavy sigh.

She clearly wasn’t happy with the progress she’d made with this particular mare. The horse had only one direction in mind, and that was toward the setting sun. Skylar had managed to work her in circles, but they’d been steadily moving west for the last hour despite Skylar’s efforts to urge the horse in the opposite direction.

Tucker rode slowly toward her. “Put the lead back on her and you can stay in that saddle while I drag her back to the ranch. Perhaps after we walk her through the routine, she’ll catch on.”

Skylar did as he suggested and tossed him the rope.

When they reached the yard, Tucker dismounted and grabbed the mare by her harness. “I’ll take her,” he said as Skylar stepped down from her saddle.

“She’ll be the first to go out in the morning.”

“You got it, boss lady,” Tucker said as he led the horse toward the corral.

A short while later he walked from the stable after finishing with the horses. He spotted Skylar leaning against the small single corral on the opposite side of the stable from the mares, where he was keeping one rowdy white stallion. Tucker had eaten quite a bit of dirt and sand trying to gentle that stud. “I hope you’re not planning to tackle him before supper,” he said, coming up behind her.

Skylar glanced back, surprising him with a slight smile.

“Nope. He’s all yours.”

“Your face is starting to sunburn,” he said, noticing how her relaxed expression enhanced the delicate features of her pretty face.

Skylar blinked, appearing confused by his comment. “What?”

“Your face, it’s sunburned.”

She dropped her gaze, clearly perturbed by the offhanded comment. “I’ll borrow Garret’s hat for a while tomorrow.”

“You don’t have one of your own?”

“I lost it the night we were ambushed.”

“I’ll have Chance pick one up for you when he goes for supplies in the morning.”

“I don’t want any favors from you, Morgan,” she said, eyeing him skeptically. “I only want to get to Wyoming.” She turned away from the fence and started toward the barn.

“Chance,” she said as she passed his brother, who’d been walking toward them.

“Sky,” he greeted in return, touching his fingers to the brim of his hat, but she didn’t pause for pleasantries. She marched her tight little butt right past him and into the barn.

“Your wife sure don’t like you a’tall,” Chance said as he followed Tucker toward the cabin.

“So I keep being reminded. She keeps working miracles with those horses and she can cuss me clear to Wyoming.”

“Amen to that,” Chance agreed.

“Where’s the kid?” Tucker asked, glancing about the yard.

“He headed in a little while ago to check on supper.”

Tucker stopped in his tracks. “Who fixed our supper, you or him?”

“The kid. Stewed meat and potatoes again.”

Tucker groaned. “If he cooks like his sister, we’ll be better off heading to the stable and eating oats with the horses.”

“Don’t worry. I hid the salt. And I thought our cooking was lousy.”

“It is,” Tucker said as they reached the cabin. “But there’s a hell of a difference between lousy and plain inedible.”

While Tucker and Chance washed up, Garret set four places at the small table and began serving stew into the bowls.

“Go get your sister,” Chance said as he sat down at the table. Garret set the pot of stew back on the stove then hurried out to fetch Skylar.

With only two rickety old chairs in the cabin, Tucker grabbed an empty crate from the floor and flipped it up on its side, placing it before an open spot at the table. “How’d things go with you and Garret today?” he asked, taking his makeshift seat.

“The kid talks too damn much. But other than that, he’s just like his sister. He doesn’t have any quit in him. You and Sky seemed to do all right.”

Tucker reached toward a box of matches at the center of the table beside the kerosene lantern. Removing the glass globe, he lit the wick, spilling golden light across the darkening room.

“Only because she was too busy with the horses to hiss and spit at me.”

“Then you bes’ keep her busy, because we need her.”

Tucker agreed, but hadn’t expected Chance to come right out and say so. “Glad to hear your approval. As of this morning, she and Garret are on the payroll. Skylar needs a hat. See that you pick one up for her when you get our supplies.”

“Fair enough. I’ll put it in the ledger. I wish they’d hurry up,” he said with a scowl, glancing at the door. “I’m half-starved.”

Tucker’s stomach grumbled as he looked at the bowl of steaming meat and potatoes in front of him. “You and Garret ate something at noon, didn’t you?”

“Apples and dried beef don’t fill a man’s gut.”

Tucker nodded an agreement, having inhaled the same dinner in between saddling horses.

Both glanced up as the door squeaked open.

“Sky won’t be comin’ in for supper.”

“Why not?” Tucker and Chance asked simultaneously.

Garret’s mouth dropped open, his gaze moving between them as he eased into the chair across from Chance.

“You’ll get used to us,” said Tucker. “Is she so put out by me that she doesn’t want to eat in my company?”

Garret shook his head. “It ain’t that. She’s asleep. I tried to wake her, but I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t?”

“She ain’t dead, but she’s sleeping pretty solid. Can we eat?”

“She worked her butt off today,” Chance said, then nodded toward Garret. “Bow your head, kid,” he instructed as he propped his elbows onto the table and folded his hands. “Lord, we thank you for this food we’re about to eat and for seeing us through another day. Amen.” Chance grabbed a spoon and dug into his bowl of stew. Garret followed his cue, taking two heaping bites before Chance managed one.

Tucker muttered an “Amen” then stood. “Skylar should eat. I’ll go see if I can wake her.”

“Be careful,” Garret called after him. “She can be a pistol when she’s tired. She never opened her eyes when I tried to wake her, but she did try to kick me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, shutting the door behind him. With darkness quickly claiming the sky, Tucker walked across the shadowed yard. Stepping lightly into the barn, he spotted Skylar in one of the stalls across from their horses. Not certain if he should wake her, he crept quietly up to the gate.

Lying belly-down, she was stretched out on some fresh straw, her jacket balled up under her head, her face hidden beneath the folds of her arms. He wondered why she hadn’t at least laid out her bedroll.

His gaze swept across the length of her slender body. After the way she exerted herself today, she didn’t need to miss a meal.

He started to enter the stall then paused, noting a fine tremble in her shoulders. He heard a sharp gasp of air from beneath her folded arms and felt an instant tension move across his own shoulders.