Dana Mentink - Cowboy Christmas Guardian

“It’s common sense. Why would you defend him?” Ken’s eyes narrowed. “Is it because Shelby is my kin? You’d be happy to see her hurt to get back at me, is that it?”

Barrett’s eyes blazed. “No, that’s not it.”

Larraby raised a palm. “Let’s leave the past out of it.”

Barrett’s expression read, “How are we gonna do that?” But he kept quiet.

Shelby went over the details again while Larraby jotted notes on a small pad of paper. He tucked it into his front pocket. “We’ll photograph and give it a once over when the storm’s through. In the meantime, Miss Arroyo, I’d advise that you don’t go poking around Gold Bar by yourself until we figure out what’s going on here.”

He paused at the door. “And tell your family to keep their cool also, huh, Barrett?”

Barrett’s chin went up. “I’m not telling them anything. We have nothing to do with any of this.”

“Yeah?” Larraby’s voice went so quiet Shelby almost didn’t hear it. “If there’s trouble around, Keegan’s usually not far away.”

Barrett’s nostrils flared and the vein in his jaw jumped. “Do your job and solve the case, Larraby,” he said. “I don’t want anything to do with the Arroyos, and neither does my family.”

Shelby watched Barrett stalk through the door. Her emotions clashed loudly inside her. So Barrett and his family wanted nothing to do with her? That was just fine, but if Barrett thought she was going to get run out of town on a rail, he had another think coming. She owed everything to her uncle, the man who had financed her college education, tried to help her mother when the creditors came calling. He was practically a parent to her since her mother had denied Shelby and Erin access to their real father, or so she’d believed until recently.

I’m not going to tuck my tail and run, Barrett, she thought. She would do the job her uncle had hired her to do and nothing, not Joe Hatcher or the Thorn family or anyone else, would stand in her way.

FIVE

At his customary hour of 4:00 a.m., Barrett made it into the kitchen and grabbed a cup of coffee. The cuts on his back stung, but work would make him forget about the discomfort. Owen was already sitting at the table with a steaming mug. He immediately stopped massaging his upper thigh when Barrett arrived, but not quickly enough.

Barrett sat across from him. “Pain bad today?”

Owen shook off the question. “No.”

It was not the truth, of course. Barrett could see by the slight sheen of perspiration on his brother’s forehead that his leg was killing him. It also meant he was still steering clear of the pain meds that had been more destructive than the bullets. Stay strong, brother.

“Checking fences today with Jack. Can you and Keegan handle the feeding?”

“I can handle it myself,” Owen said defiantly, challenging his brother to disagree. He did not. Barrett knew the power of work could heal a man; it had helped heal him after Bree’s death. Ken Arroyo’s words from the night before galled him afresh.

Is it because Shelby is my kin? You’d be happy to see her hurt to get back at me, is that it?

Barrett’s bitterness was mixed with shame because, following the accident, he’d been in such anguish, steeped in rage unlike he’d ever experienced, that he’d wished every bad thing he could imagine on the Arroyo family. Years of prayer and penitence and God’s grace had helped restore him, at least mostly. He had not found the strength to completely forgive Devon Arroyo yet, but at least the rage no longer completely consumed him from the inside out. Devon was a kid who’d made a tragic mistake. Barrett’s feelings for Ken were another matter entirely.

Again the conversation circled through his mind.

I don’t want anything to do with the Arroyos, and neither does my family.

Well, that part was true anyway. Shelby Arroyo could solve her own problems.

“That’s it?” Owen said.

“That’s what?”

“You’re not going to talk about what happened last night with you and Shelby?”

“I already told you. It’s all over.”

Owen raised an eyebrow and chugged some coffee. “You two almost got blown up, and you’re not worried about her?”

“She’s not my problem, and she can take care of herself.”

“Uh-huh. Locked in a trunk and almost blown up in the same day. Clearly she can take care of herself.”

Barrett grabbed his jacket, unwilling to talk anymore about Shelby. “Mama wants mistletoe.”

Owen laughed. “Of course she does. I’ll give that job to Keegan. He climbs trees like a monkey.”

Barrett and Jack met up in the stable. Jack had already saddled both Lady and Titan, who seemed to be suffering no ill effects from their frightening episode the evening before.

For a second, Barrett wondered if Shelby had any nightmares about what happened. Bree had periodic nightmares that would leave her trembling and crying. He would roll over and embrace her, kiss her hair and rub circles on her back until she fell asleep again. Funny, she could never recall the bad dreams upon waking.

“You make them go away,” she would say, “so I can’t remember.”

Oh, how he’d loved her. Sometimes he wished he could forget the pain just as easily as she forgot the nightmares. But the pain was a part of the blessing God had given him in Bree, and he would not reject a single moment of it, anguish and all. Bree was with God and she knew no pain, that was his comfort.

He pulled himself back to the present. Jack was already leading Lady out, so he scrambled to catch up, wondering why his thoughts of Shelby and Bree were getting tangled together.

The fences were in better shape than he anticipated and by lunchtime they were heading back after a few minor fixes. The clouds promised more rain, but for now the sky was holding. He admired the wet gold of the grass which would not regain its brilliant emerald until the spring. The glistening oaks dripped down on them as they picked their way back to the house at just after eleven. His stomach rumbled and the horses were hungry, too, judging by the way they picked up their pace as they neared the barn.

Barrett handed Titan over to Ella Cahill, who beamed a bright smile from under her tangle of red hair. Though she was in her late twenties, she barely came up to the horses’ withers. Ella was tiny but ferociously devoted to her disabled sister and to the Thorns, whom she treated as family. She and Owen had been inseparable as young children. She’d got into some trouble after Owen deployed, but Barrett didn’t know the particulars.

“Hey, Barrett. You’re late. Did you forget Titan is due for his pedicure?”

In spite of her young age, Ella was the best farrier that had ever worked at Gold Bar Ranch. She had a gift, a connection with the horses that defied description. “No way. Didn’t forget.”

“I’ll get Titan some breakfast. He likes to munch while I work on him,” she said.

Barrett caught sight of an older horse that gleamed almost white gold, narrow chested with a bright silky mane, delicate and powerful at the same time. He did a double take. “Isn’t that Arroyo’s Akhal Teke? Is Ken here?”

Ella shook her head, smile dimming. “No, his niece is, and I already got the third degree from Ms. Arroyo so it’s your turn. She’s in the house,” she said, turning away to lead Titan into the barn.

“The third degree about what?” Barrett called to her, but she didn’t answer.

He stared from the high-spirited horse, which was eyeing him suspiciously, to the house. What was Shelby Arroyo doing back at the Gold Bar? And what was she doing riding a hot-blooded horse like the Akhal Teke?

Jack fisted his hands on his hips. “You coming?”