Rough Stock (35 page)

He sighed. “Rowan, you could be happy.”

“
I am happy, Dad!
” She flinched at the pitch of her own voice, worried he’d be upset.

He smirked at her instead, for a moment, before his features softened again. “You’re afraid. And I can understand that, but—”

“I am not
afraid
, Daddy. I’m
angry
. And I’m
tired
, tired of being chewed up and spit out by the Barlows. I’m tired of being
used
and then tossed to the side of the road like so much
trash
.” When she lifted her head, her father wasn’t looking at her but past her.

Rowan turned to see Seth standing in the doorway, hat in hand.

She slammed down Willow’s half-empty glass, sloshing milk onto the kitchen table. “I’ll finish this later,” she grumbled. She stood up straight, squared her shoulders, and didn’t give Seth another look as she strode past him and up the stairs. She was grateful that she managed to hold back fresh tears every single step of the way until she was safely locked in her bedroom.

She was not afraid, damn it.

She was tired.

And she was angry.

And she’d been hurt too many times.

But she was
not
afraid.

‡

S
eth pulled into
the Archer driveway again the next day, just after sunrise, and killed his truck’s engine. As he got out, Mac waved to him from the porch, coffee in hand. “Mornin’!” the old man called.

Seth returned the greeting as he sauntered toward the house. He searched for Rowan as he moved, steeling himself for her onslaught once she spotted him on the property.

From behind Rowan’s father, Rowan herself appeared in the window, holding back the curtain and frowning intensely.

Seth blew out a harsh breath that fogged in the chilly air.

As his boot hit the top of the steps, the front door opened, and Rowan slipped out. She was clad in a brand-new jacket, similar to his own but not the same. Seth’s jaw twitched as he looked at it. He didn’t like it. And apparently Rowan still didn’t like
him
, not judging by the way she was eyeing him warily.

“Why are you—?” she demanded.

“I called him,” Mac declared, making his daughter hesitate.

Rowan turned to him, lips in a perfect O. “You? Why? Why would you call him?”

Mac took a long, slow sip of his coffee, infuriating Rowan even more, apparently, because she crossed her arms in front of her chest. Or maybe she was cold. Maybe Seth should rip that jacket off her and give her his own.

“Well, now,” said Mac, “we’re three days behind on shearing. And I can’t lift ’em, or even get down in the dirt with ’em, and you can’t strip ’em all on your own.”

Rowan glared at him. “Emma’s off work at five today.”

Mac snorted. “You’ll be up to your eye teeth in wool by noon,” he predicted. “Back breakin’, legs achin’. I’ve been doing this job for more years than I can fit candles on a birthday cake, Rowan. Not that I can have birthday cake anymore,” he grumbled. “But I know how it goes. And
you’ll
be in the hospital by the end of the week if you don’t get some help out here.”

Rowan turned to Seth and huffed loudly. “Do you even know how to shear a sheep?” she asked.

Seth shook his head. “No, I don’t. But I take down calves for vaccinations and tagging every spring. I can wrangle them for you, do all the heavy lifting.”

She glared at him. “You can’t toss them around like calves. They’re pregnant. You have to be careful with them.”

Seth watched as her hands flexed in irritation. Her knuckles were raw, and the skin was near to cracking. Seth guessed it was impossible to wear gloves while shearing. He wanted to press them between his own, warm them and soothe them—
and her
—but he kept a polite distance. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised quietly. “I’d never hurt them.”

She frowned like she didn’t believe him at all. “Where’s Court?” she asked, though it looked as if she were chewing glass just to say his name.

“He’s on the range with the others, bringing in the herd for calving. We agreed I should come help.”

She snorted. “So, you’re passing me back and forth between you?”

Seth’s jaw twitched, and even her father made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat.

Rowan must have regretted her words, because she lowered her head and fiddled with the sleeve of her new jacket rather than look either of them in the eye. “I…I guess I could use some help. While Emma’s at her job in town,” she added quickly.

“Well then, that’s that,” said Mac, clapping his hands lightly. “I’m going back inside to watch Spongeboob with my granddaughter.”

“Bob,” Seth and Rowan corrected at the same time.

Mac shrugged. “Seems like a damn
boob
to me.”

Together, Rowan and Seth cordoned off the herd, using the dogs to gather them in the paddock next to the barn. Rowan set up a swinging gate, plugged in a frightening-looking pair of clippers (that he hoped she wouldn’t use on him), and gestured to the dogs to single the first ewe from the flock and herd her into the barn.

Seth held her around the neck and the hocks, gently, as promised, while Rowan sheared off the wool that had been the source of the Archer family income for the last one hundred years.

“Should you do this before lambing?” he asked.

Rowan smirked at him with her hands on her hips. “Yes,” she insisted. “We already have the heaters. And the lambs will be better off. It’ll be cleaner in here.” She said it while looking at Seth as though he were something she’d discovered on the bottom of her boot.

“Sorry,” he replied. “I guess I don’t know much about sheep operations.”

Rowan’s lips pressed together as she looked over her herd. “And I guess I don’t
need
to know. Not anymore.”

She said it with a wisp of sadness in her voice. Seth understood it and didn’t blame her. The deal was a good one, and everyone would benefit, but he didn’t like change, either. He wanted Snake River to go on forever, unchanged since the time of his ancestors. Certainly Rowan had every right to want that for her own family’s spread. Under the circumstances, she seemed to be accepting the shift better than he might have, if their roles had been reversed.

“Your dad looks good,” Seth told her. “Do you think he’ll be okay, though? With less work?”

Rowan sighed and looked up at the house, shielding her eyes with her hand. “It’ll be a tough adjustment. He’s worked a full day every day since he was a little boy. There’ll still be plenty for him to do, I suppose. Fences that need walking, painting the house. And we still have the chickens.” She gave him a tiny smile, and Seth’s heart warmed to see it. “Expect him to worry your cattle, though. Checking on them, sending the dogs out with them.”

Seth nodded. “Well, our cattle don’t see dogs much, but I suspect they’ll all learn to live together,” he mused. “The dogs need someone to look after, and the cows need someone to protect them. They need each other.”

Rowan looked away, and he thought maybe he’d pushed too hard on that one, but he wasn’t sure he cared. He wasn’t going to hide his feelings. He wanted her. She knew it. And he could wait as long as it took for her to realize that he wasn’t going anywhere this time. The sun was setting, though, and it was time to head home for the day. They’d finished before Emma had even gotten off work at her job in town. Seth was a hard worker, even if he didn’t know anything about sheep.

Rowan locked up the flock in the barn and ushered the dogs into their run. Seth stood by, watching her feed them, noting how happy and exuberant they were. He’d be forever grateful to Kinka, who’d saved Rowan all those nights ago.

“Thanks,” said Rowan, echoing his sentiments at that moment and startling him with her clarity. He looked up see she was gazing at
him
. “Thanks for helping.”

She said it a little grudgingly—okay, more than a little grudgingly—but it was better than nothing, he figured. He was certain they were both remembering her claim that she’d never ask him for help, under any circumstances. Technically, she hadn’t. Seth had been forced onto her, outvoted and outvoiced. He’d obviously prefer she welcome him with open arms, but he wasn’t a stupid man.

Lovesick maybe.

But not stupid.

He simply nodded to her, not wanting to push her any more today. He tipped his hat and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Rowan.”

She glared at him but didn’t argue, at least.

He thought maybe that was a good sign.

‡

R
owan watched Seth
walk to his truck. She’d thanked him for his help because even though Willow wasn’t around to see it, Rowan had to set an example. Dad was right. They couldn’t keep asking for the Barlows’ help—or in this case allowing it, since Rowan definitely
had not
asked—while at the same time being ungrateful for the extra set of hands.

She didn’t want the man around, for a whole host of reasons. Not the least of which was that it was hard as hell to see something you’d lost every day (Seth), not to mention having someone working right next to you when you were in the midst of losing something else (the flock). Every minute of every day Rowan wanted to break down, wanted to cry, to weep for the loss of her family’s heritage.

This would be her last shearing season, her last lambing season, her last everything.

Well, that was a way to put it, she thought as she watched Seth climb into his truck.

This was her last everything.

Willow waved from the porch, blissfully unaware of the hardship around her. She had her daddy, her dog, her Pop-Pop, and a whole host of new uncles, all for her very own. The little girl was happy now, but Rowan didn’t even try to fool herself into thinking things would always be that way. Eventually Willow would ask hard questions about why she’d never met Court before, about why the people in town gave her the side eye whenever they stopped for milk or to drop off a check at the bank. She’d ask, too, how Rowan had managed to lose the family business, how she couldn’t keep it going on her own.

Rowan had answers, of course, but they all made her look bad, put her in the worst possible light.

It was entirely possible that when Willow grew up, Rowan would lose her daughter, too. Not in the way Rowan had always feared, in a courtroom, with a judge looking down on her, but in more damaging and hurtful ways.

More permanent ways.

Perhaps if Rowan hadn’t been so focused on nursing, she’d have paid more attention about how to run a successful ranching operation. Hell, perhaps if she’d kept her legs together…

But then Willow wouldn’t be here, and that was unthinkable.

Rowan pressed her lips together and headed back up to the front porch. She still needed to make dinner, probably just bologna and cheese since she was so exhausted. But it was the little girl’s favorite. It was important to Rowan to do the best she could, make the best possible home and life for her daughter until Willow, like everything else, disappeared from Rowan’s life.

Maybe Rowan wasn’t a person worth loving, she mused as she climbed the wooden steps. Certainly not a person worth sticking around for, not the first time anyway. Court had tried to come back, because he wanted a Just-Add-Water Family. And Seth had tried to come back, but he just wanted more land.

No one, it seemed, wanted Rowan for Rowan.

Inside, she made hot chocolate and set it down next to a sandwich with the crusts cut off. Then Rowan turned and started washing last night’s dishes.

“Mama?”

The way Willow had said it told Rowan it hadn’t been the first time the little girl had tried to get her attention. “Sorry, honey. What?”

“I’m done,” Willow declared, holding up her plate.

“Bring it over,” said Rowan, nodding at the sink.

Willow frowned as she slid off the chair. “Are you okay, Mama?”

Rowan looked down into her daughter’s Barlow-brown eyes and forced a smile across her lips. “Yeah,” she replied. “I’m fine. I’m just fine, baby.”

From his seat in the living room, Dad grunted and shot her a dark look.