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The long row of cabins at Three Rivers Ranch had never looked more glorious than they did to Taryn Tucker. She stood at the end of them on a Monday morning, her gaze stretching across all twelve of them, the same way she had last week after she’d been offered the job of cleaning them.
Playing maid was a long way from having a professional makeup artist paint her face and a stylist make sure every strand of hair fell the right way. But Taryn much preferred this life to the one she used to have.
Or at least she hoped she would. With eleven small towns behind her, she desperately wanted to find one to live in for a while. She tucked her newly dyed black hair into a ponytail and then stuffed the ends into a messy bun before stooping for her cleaning supplies. Might as well get started.
She thought about the apartment she’d been able to find in Three Rivers, a town she’d stumbled upon quite by accident the week before. She’d never seen quite such an enthusiastic Halloween celebration before. Not even in New Orleans, where she’d been assigned one October a few years ago—and they knew how to celebrate death in Louisiana.
She’d used the last of her meager paycheck from town number eleven, where she’d worked bagging groceries until she got too nervous to stay, to pay for a hotel for a couple of nights until she found the one-bedroom unit above the barber shop on Main Street.
They won’t follow you this far, Taryn told herself as she mounted the steps to the first cabin, the one closest to the homestead where she’d been instructed to replenish her cleaning supplies.
At least Taryn hoped they wouldn’t. She wasn’t even sure who “they” were, only that someone from her former employer wanted to know where she’d disappeared to. As if the public humiliation she’d caused as well as endured couldn’t be viewed twenty-four hours a day via the Internet.
Six months had passed. Surely the news station would find another story to focus on, especially in a city the size of Corpus Christi. Taryn had been praying for a hurricane, and though they sat in the thick of the season, God had not granted her requests for such a storm. It was just as well. She didn’t want to be responsible for tragedy and death just to get the attention off her messed up personal life.
She mourned the loss of such a life as she fitted the master key into the lock. Still, the owner of the ranch, Squire Ackerman, hadn’t seemed to recognize her—and why would he? she asked herself.
Corpus Christi television stations didn’t broadcast to dinky Three Rivers. But somehow, Taryn carried the weight of who she’d been and it cumbered her shoulders, weighed her down.
She entered the cabin and set her bucket of supplies on the floor so she could return to retrieve the vacuum cleaner. Apparently cleaning the cowboy cabins was a brand-new job; Squire had never hired someone to do it before. According to him, his cowboys right now were of the messy variety.
Taryn lugged the vacuum up the steps and into the cabin, pausing to wipe the first inklings of sweat from her forehead. She clutched the bucket with one hand and towed the vacuum behind her with the other as she headed for the bedroom in the back of the quiet cabin. She’d mapped out a plan of attack to get three of the twelve cabins done each day, and that started with working from the back to the front. Each cabin would be done in two hours, with fifteen-minute breaks in between.
Squire had agreed to her plan during the second interview, and given her the requested four-day work week. Taryn was really looking forward to a three-day weekend each week, and her spirits lifted as she barged through the bedroom door.
“Hey!” A man stood there, barely wearing a pair of jeans. He fumbled with the zipper while Taryn stared. With his pants securely in place, he folded his arms across his bare chest. His impressively wide bare chest.
“Who might you be?” He grinned at her, an action which made her mortification fall down a notch. He reached for a white undershirt lying on the unmade bed and pulled it over his sandy-haired head. He obviously hadn’t shaved that morning—or any morning in the past month. Red and lighter brown salted his beard, which he’d trimmed neatly along his jawline.
Taryn swallowed, unable to find her voice. His blue-gray eyes sucked at her. They seemed filled with lightning, with laughter, with life. She envied him immediately.
“It’s no big deal,” he said. “I just don’t normally have pretty women back here.” He pulled a blue and black plaid shirt from his closet and put it on. “My name’s Kenny Stockton.” He stepped toward her and offered his hand.
She dropped her cleaning bucket and put her hand inside his, and it looked child-sized comparatively. She swallowed and took a calming breath. He didn’t seem upset she’d walked in on him. “Taryn Tucker.” She cringed at her near-perfect delivery, as if she was signing off one of her newscasts. I’m Taryn Tucker. Good-night, Corpus Christi.
“Pleased to meet you, Taryn Tucker.” He looked at her curiously, but he didn’t seem to recognize her. She glanced around for a television in his bedroom and didn’t find one. Her muscles softened, and she allowed herself to smile at the handsome cowboy who still held her hand.
“Sorry I barged on in,” she said. “I didn’t think anyone would be home. Squire said the cowhands are up early to do their jobs.”
Kenny slid his hand away from hers. “Yeah, I got real dirty during the haul this mornin’. Came back to shower before heading over to the admin trailer for my next assignment.” He glanced around, as if just now noticing that beds could be made. “Sorry about the mess.”
She forced herself to give a light giggle. “That’s my job. If you go doin’ it, I won’t get paid.” And she needed the money. Her salary had long dried up, and the hourly-wage jobs she’d been getting by with never seemed to pay enough.
At least you’re not sleeping in your car, she thought as she searched for an outlet to plug in the vacuum. That night—though it had only been a single night—had been one of the worst of her life. Worse than the night she’d said no to her boyfriend’s proposal on live TV.
A chill ran down her back, and she lifted her hand in acknowledgement when Kenny said he was heading out. Relief spread through her when the front door banged closed behind him, and Taryn sank onto his bed. No tears came—she’d cried them all out in the first three months.
Just pure exhaustion. She needed to get out of Texas if she had any hope of living a normal life. But as it always did, the thought of returning home to South Dakota brought on a wave of nausea Taryn had learned to swallow down and breathe through. Her parents hadn’t seen the debacle—she doubted they had any idea that she’d left Corpus Christi six months ago—but she didn’t want to return to Bottle Hollow and explain why. After all, she’d vowed never to return when she’d left a decade ago.
She spoke to her mother from time to time, but her father still hadn’t opened the lines of communication. Some words took longer to fade to whispers, Taryn supposed. Or perhaps her father was as stubborn as her mother always said he was.
She inhaled deeply to inflate her chest and focused on the closet in front of her. A gray camouflage hint of fabric caught her eye, and she sprang to her feet and shoved the clothes which concealed the uniform to the left.
U.S. Marines.
Her chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. Stockton sat above the right breast pocket, and Taryn wondered where he’d been stationed, how he’d gotten out of the Marines, and why he’d chosen ranching instead of something like law enforcement the way her brother had.
She took a deep drag of air, expecting to find the woodsy, spicy scent of Collin. She didn’t. She hadn’t since his death three years ago. Still, something about this desert cammie called to her.
Another breath revealed a new scent, one that wrapped through her soul and wound around her toes. This one smelled like fresh cotton, and outdoorsy dryer sheets, and something deeply masculine.
Kenny’s scent.
Taryn closed her eyes and reveled in it, a fistful of his uniform clutched in her fingers. Something beyond the house snapped, and her eyes snapped open. She stumbled away from his personal belongings. Embarrassment flooded her.
“Get a grip,” she muttered to herself as she started the vacuum. She attacked the clutter and dust in Kenny’s cabin with vigor. After all, she wasn’t in town to get involved with another marine, even if he smelled as wonderful as she imagined heaven to be. Even if his eyes carried a twinkle and his deep voice sang to her soul and his muscles testified of his impressive physique.
No, she’d had enough of cops and servicemen. Enough of watching them die, the way her brother had. Enough of dating them and then humiliating them when they proposed to her.
Familiar remorse combined with an inexplicable rage hit her right behind the breastbone. Chris should’ve known not to surprise her like that. Nothing about their year-long relationship had suggested she’d enjoy an on-air proposal.
Her refusal was his fault, and yet she’d lost everything because of it. Taryn left Kenny’s cabin in tip-top shape, determined not to let her ex-boyfriend into her thoughts, her decision-making, her life. Not anymore.
As she entered the next cabin, she looked up into the rafters of the porch as if gazing toward heaven. Help me find what I need here, she prayed. If only she knew what that was and how to get it.
* * *
“What’s your deal today?”
Kenny looked up at Lawrence’s question, his mind still trying to focus on organizing the words into a sentence that made sense. He blinked and looked at the horse he’d been brushing. “No deal.”
“I’ve been talking to you, and you don’t respond.” Lawrence led his horse into the stall and latched it. “It’s like you’ve got a lot on your mind.” He leaned against the fence and grinned. “But you’re Kenny, so that can’t be true.”
Kenny chuckled with his friend. “I suppose I’ve been distracted today.” Distracted by a gorgeous pair of brown eyes and hair he’d been speculating on its true color for most of the day. The black on Taryn obviously came from a bottle.
“You been lookin’ at a new horse?”
A twinge of disdain pinched behind Kenny’s eyes. But Lawrence wouldn’t automatically assume Kenny had been distracted by a woman. He rarely made it past the third date, and the last woman he’d been out with declined his dinner invitation, claiming he was “too happy.”
Well, Kenny didn’t know how to be unhappy. Didn’t really seem to be in his nature, and he certainly wasn’t going to apologize about his glass-half-full attitude. His time in the Marines had taught him to see the darkness, the evil, the horrors of this world. He didn’t want to exist there all the time.
He thanked God everyday that he’d been able to serve his country without losing his life. So many others didn’t. He’d served two four-year terms of active service before leaving the Marines, before wandering the country in search of what to do next, before he’d found Three Rivers Ranch. His father had known Garth Ahlstrom in Montana, and Kenny had come to Texas a few years ago looking for a job. Garth hired him the same day. Another blessing.
“Hello?” Lawrence waved his hand in front of Kenny’s eyes. “Must be a beautiful horse.”
“Hm.” Kenny didn’t correct him. So he’d thought Taryn was pretty. Every man who looked at her surely thought that too. She was petite and polite, which led Kenny to believe she’d been raised in the South.
The heat from her hand still burned in his, and he fisted his fingers as he finished his last chore before heading back to his cabin. For one small moment, he fantasized about walking in on Taryn. But the idea was ridiculous. Squire had hired her to clean all the cabins, as well as the administration building. It wouldn’t take her all day to clean his cabin, though it was a bit of a pig sty.
Sure enough, when he tried to enter his cabin, the door was locked. He fished his keys from his pocket and entered the quiet cabin. His roommate, Charlie, would be home in a few minutes, and Kenny took the opportunity while he was alone to admire the freshly vacuumed rugs, the straight pillows on the couch, and his crisply made bed.
Kenny wondered where Taryn had come from. He hadn’t seen her at church previously, but that was his only interaction with anyone off the ranch. Maybe she didn’t go to church. And it wasn’t like he went every single week either.
“Wow, this place looks great.” Charlie entered the cabin and kicked his dirty boots onto the clean rug. “What’re you thinkin’ for dinner?”
Kenny hadn’t thought of anything but Taryn for hours. He hadn’t discovered how to get her number, or what her schedule at the ranch would be, or anything. He didn’t want to ask. Didn’t want anyone to know of his interest.
The wind shook the windows as Kenny said, “Pizza or spaghetti.”
“You cooking?”
“Sure.” He stepped into the kitchen and pulled out a stock pot.
“This place smells like lilacs,” Charlie commented, and Kenny smiled as he salted the pasta water.
* * *
The next morning, Kenny didn’t see Taryn on his way to the administration building. Garth had messaged all the cowhands about a mandatory meeting that morning, instead of just heading out to their usual chores.
“Maybe we’ll get our new assignments,” Charlie commented.
“Nah.” Kenny grinned at him as they climbed the steps to the building. “We just got new ones last month.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” Charlie lowered his head against the wind, his tone resigned. Kenny didn’t much care what his chore was, though there were definitely less desirable jobs around the ranch. Kenny was just glad to be out of a uniform, working the hours of the day away, and living a carefree life.
A flash of black hair caught his attention, but he didn’t truly have a chance to see if it was Taryn or not before Charlie opened the door and ushered Kenny into the admin building. They took seats and waited for Garth to appear. By the time he finally did, Kenny had listened to Lawrence and Charlie bicker good-naturedly about whose dog was smarter and why.
“Storm comin’ in,” Garth said as a way to call the cowboys to order. It worked. “I reckon we have today to get the animals secure, get the barns all closed up, and the rest of the week, we’ll be working on indoor improvements.”
Some of the cowboys shuffled their feet, but not Kenny. He didn’t mind working inside any more than he did outside. Someone asked what kind of indoor improvements, and Garth mentioned painting and appliance repair in some of the cabins, maybe laying new flooring in a couple of them, and other home improvement items Kenny had never done. But he could wipe a brush up and down and follow written directions.
The meeting ended with assignments to get the livestock on the ranch secured, and Kenny got assigned along with a half-dozen cowhands to ride out and check on the herd. They’d hunker down next to the tree line for some security, and Kenny labored with the other men to make the field smaller. Keeping the cattle in a group would help them stay calm, and it was only supposed to rain. Buckets, but just rain.
Kenny drove another nail into the plywood back Garth had instructed they build on the existing roof structure that protected the feeding troughs. The cattle wouldn’t be able to access the hay from both sides, but the chances of their feed lasting through the storm increased with the additional wall.
“Roof’s secure,” Lawrence said from the other side of the structure. “This is almost done.”
“Great work,” Garth said. “The hay’ll be here in a few minutes. We’ll get that out, and we’ll head home.”
Kenny nailed faster, swinging the hammer with near lightning speed. He’d had enough of the wind pulling at his hat and whipping through his ears. He wasn’t sure Texas ever got truly cold, but with this wind and the threatening gray sky, a chill skated over his arms.
The trucks arrived and the men set to work filling the troughs. Grass still grew in this field too, but no one would be out to check the herd for three days, and Garth wasn’t the kind of foreman who took chances. Kenny knew he’d come out in a hailstorm to check on the cattle if he was concerned about them.
He finished up his job and helped get the last of the hay out. With fresh water in the lower trough, Garth called, “Let’s get outta here, boys!” He flattened his hand against his head as the wind kicked up, and Kenny started toward his horse. He led two along behind him as a couple of the boys got a ride in the back of the truck.
“You okay there, Kenny?” Garth asked as he leaned out the window of the truck.
“Just fine, boss.”
“It’s just you and Aaron. Keep an eye on each other.”
“Sure thing, boss.” But Kenny didn’t look up. The weather threw dust and dirt and debris into his face, and he used his cowboy hat to keep himself protected. At one point, he spotted Aaron ahead of him on the horizon, also leading two horses. Kenny whistled a tune he’d learned in the Marines as Orion, his faithful black-and-white horse, plodded on home.
He’d just passed the cabin in section twelve when something floated to him on the wind. He jerked his head up, searching for the source of the cry. Maybe it was an animal—the prairie played home to more than just cattle, he knew.
His pulse pounding and his blood beating through his veins, he scanned the horizon. Nothing.
The cry came again, a high-pitched noise without shape or meaning. He whipped his head left, and there, so far out where the land met the angry sky, he spotted a dark figure.
A human figure.
