The Cattle Drive [The Armstrong Brothers of Cedar Creek] (Siren Publishing Classic) (14 page)

“Come on, baby! Breathe,” he shouted once again, and he blew air into her lungs.

Rachael started coughing, and Michael started to cry. He grabbed her and held her close to him, hugging her tightly. Her limp, wet body began to breathe against him. He thanked god for every breath she took. Laying her back on the ground, Michael walked over to his horse and grabbed the blanket that was rolled up on the back of his saddle and wrapped it around her. He picked her up and carried her over to his horse and sat her on the saddle. Quickly climbing up behind her, she laid her head against his chest and closed her eyes. Michael kissed her head and quickly rode back to the house.

As he approached the compound, he grabbed his walkie-talkie.

“Kenny, meet me at the back of the house,” he quietly said, trying not to wake her.

“Sure thing, boss.”

Rachael woke the next morning feeling like she had been hit by a truck. Her whole body ached, and her chest hurt. Rolling over, she saw Michael sleeping in the chair against the wall.

She smiled.

He stayed with her. It seemed that whenever she needed him, he had always been there. Even from the first, on the horrible night in Montana, he was there. He was there when she desperately needed someone to help her drive the cattle, even though she did have to persuade him to do it. Then as if on cue, he was there to save her once again from water. What was it about him that he felt compelled to be her saving grace?

This whole scene was getting out of hand. When she wanted him around, he was nowhere to be found, and when she couldn’t stand to be within five miles of him, he was everywhere.

He looked so peaceful sitting there in that chair even though she knew he was going to have one major crick in his neck. Of course, he would complain about it until she screamed, but she couldn’t help but marvel at the thought of him, his kindness, and his sincerity. He could evoke emotions within her like no other.

She loved the way he held her when he kissed her, and his playful attitude that day in his bedroom. He was a proud man, an honest man. He was a good father. Fair and smart.

Lying there, she felt the heat rise to her face.

Holy crap! She was falling in love with him.

No!

Lust… yes. Love…oh hell no!

The admission startled her. She must have swallowed too much pond water. “Girl, you have lost your mind,” she whispered to herself. Getting out of bed, she walked over to him. Standing there, she looked down at him. He looked so tired. Softly sitting on his lap, she leaned in and softly kissed his warm lips.

Michael stirred, opening his eyes as she pulled away. The look in her eyes confused him. He had seen her mad, upset, hungry with lust, and ready to kill, but this look was different. He couldn’t make it out, and honestly he really didn’t want to.

“I have things to do,” he said, removing her from his lap. He stood and stretched. His back was killing him.

Walking toward the door, she whispered, “Michael?”

He stopped but didn’t turn to look at her. “Yeah.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

* * * *

It was the day of the festival, and Michael and Kenny headed out to the corral to announce who was staying at the ranch and who was going on the cattle drive. With the decisions made, they headed out to the corral where everyone was assembled, awaiting their decision. As they approached, Michael grabbed the clipboard from Kenny and began to speak.

“If I call your name, you are going on the drive,” he spoke loudly. Kenny stood next to him and waited. As Michael read the names, Rachael came outside and sat on the porch. She watched the group begin to separate themselves. It didn’t take long at all, and before she knew it, Henry was the last one standing. Rachael smiled at the boy. He had worked so hard to get to this point, and she couldn’t wait to have him on the drive.

Michael looked at his son, and he quickly turned away to walk back into the house.

He didn’t say his name.

Rachael stood as Michael passed her. She followed him into the kitchen.

“You want to tell me what just happened out there? I thought it was decided that Henry was going?” she said, facing him with her hands on her hips.

“You decided. I didn’t. Henry stays here,” Michael said firmly and walked over to the coffeepot, pouring a cup.

“Damn it, Michael. That boy has worked his ass off for this. He deserves to go.”

“I said no,” he said after taking a drink.

“Why?”

“I have made my decision, Rachael. Drop it.” And he grabbed his jacket and walked out the door.

Rachael quickly ran after him only to find him mounting Jasper and heading home. Henry walked up to her with questions in his eyes.

“I know. I am just as surprised at you. Let me talk to him. Go help Kenny put the horses away,” she said, walking over to grab Mystic’s reins, and soon she was on top of the horse galloping after Michael.

She found Michael sitting in his living room, staring into space, listening to Debussy with his head in his hands. She slowly walked over to him and sat down next to him, and after a couple of minutes he finally turned to look at her.

“I won’t discuss this with you,” he shouted.

“Why?” she demanded.

“I told you before I don’t want this life for him. He is better than everything around here. He has a good future. I can’t let him give all that up for a life of ranching.”

“Michael, that boy is almost eighteen. Soon you won’t be able to stop him.”

“Watch me.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Michael grunted and cursed as he walked over to the sofa and sat. He did not want to have this discussion with her. He wanted her to leave, but he couldn’t tell her to go. His mouth wouldn’t let the words slip past his lips. He sat there looking at her with her hands on her hips, her eyes shooting hot daggers at him. He couldn’t help but smile.

That damn infuriating woman escapes death not even twenty-four hours ago, and she still looks good enough to eat. He couldn’t help himself to a look. She did look mighty tasty, and boy did that wake-up kiss rev his engines. It took all his willpower to walk away like he did.

“You never did tell me. Where exactly are we headed?”

“We have three stops in Wyoming and the final stop in Silver Lake, Montana,” she told him.

Michael went ashen and stiff in a matter of seconds. “He’s not going. That’s final!” he said, screaming, getting to his feet, walking upstairs, and slamming his bedroom door.

Rachael just stood there… pissed!

* * * *

The town of Cedar Creek was a myriad of booths, dancing, food, and laughter. The townspeople all came out to wish the R & R Ranch a bon voyage and happy trails. With the summer beating down on them, and fall not far away, the town was eager to get into its holiday cheer, and the festival was the start of that.

Booths were adorned with twinkling lights and fall colors. Pies, cakes, jams, cookies, and treats of all kinds were given away for little to nothing. The craft tables were adorned with quilts, cloths, and other items made from hand. The corrals were filled with prizewinning pigs, cows, and steer, all awaiting the coveted blue ribbon. Music filled the air as people laughed, danced, and enjoyed themselves.

Chris was there to pick up Rachael by five in the afternoon, and when she walked out of the house, she took his breath away.

Rachael stood there in a vibrant yellow dress that fell to midthigh, a white shawl draped over her shoulder, and a pair of silk ribbon heels that accentuated her slender legs. Her hair fell around her in a cascade of curls, and there was a white gardenia behind her ear, and when she smiled, her whole face lit up with life. Chris stood there staring at her and smiled.

“Pick your jaw up and let’s go,” she said, getting into his truck.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, jumping in and heading off into town.

* * * *

The festival was in full swing when Michael and Henry arrived. Henry soon found a pretty girl from school and soon was off running around with her, leaving Michael to wander alone through the festival. He soon found the open bar and sat. Nursing his third beer, he recognized the man who sat down next to him.

Ignoring him, Michael drank his beer.

“So you must be the organic farmer I have heard so much about,” the older man said after ordering a whiskey.

“That’s right,” Michael replied.

“So how’s the farming going?” the man asked.

“It’s not.”

“I thought so, since you have been spending all you time out at the R & R ranch.”

Michael looked over at the man, who was just a hair shorter than he was. His silver hair was still thick, and his firm jawline told Michael he did like to beat around the bush, but when Michael looked the man in the eye, he was taken aback. His green eyes smoldered with anger, and it was directed at Michael.

“What do you want?” Michael said, turning his attention back to his beer.

“I am Judge Clark.”

“I know who you are.”

“So…you are the man who is here to steal my daughter’s ranch,” the judge said, looking into his glass of whiskey and slowly taking a drink.

“Excuse me?” Michael said, turning to the man.

“You heard me correctly, Michael Henry Armstrong. I know who you are.”

Michael took another drink of his beer and threw ten dollars on the bar, and he started to walk away, when the judge grabbed his arm. “We have to talk, now,” the judge said firmly, and soon the two men were walking toward the courthouse.

* * * *

In the judge’s chambers, Michael’s attention was quickly drawn to the large painting behind the man’s desk. There, with a light illuminating it, hung a portrait of Rachael and her family. Standing next to her was her husband. Robert was tall man, with sandy blond hair and warm brown eyes. He looked adoringly at his wife, who, in her lap, held two young boys with fat, rosy cheeks. A little girl stood next to her, with long blonde curls draped around her shoulders, and the eyes of her mother. But it was Rachael herself, sitting in the middle, surrounded by her family, with the look of peace upon her face. She was glowing. Her emerald eyes sparkled, and she was smiling.

Michael was staring at the photo. Lost in a trance, he moved closer to it to get a better look.

The judge watched him. He knew from what he had heard from Kenny and some of the boys out at the ranch that there was something going on. He needed to find out for himself, and watching Michael now, the judge knew the boys were right. Clearing his throat, the judge walked toward his chair.

Michael turned and smiled. “So what do you want to talk to me about, Judge?” he said, taking a seat in the man’s office.

“Are you here to steal her ranch?”

“No.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Why should I tell you?” Michael asked suspiciously.

“My daughter is all I have left. That ranch is her life. For some reason, over the last couple of months, there has been a change in Rachael, and I think it’s because of you. So if you’re here to take her ranch, I think you better pack up and leave now,” the judge said firmly.

“I am not trying to take her ranch, Mr. Clark. I am trying to save it,” Michael said, getting up and walking around the room, looking at all the personal photos, the diplomas, and even at some animal heads hanging on the wall.

“Explain,” the judge ordered. Michael turned to look at the man. Taking a deep breath, he began to explain why he was here and what he had learned. He told the judge that he was going to do everything he could to stop this man from taking her ranch. With the whole story out, Michael walked back to the chair and sat, waiting for the judge to respond. But when he spoke, Michael didn’t expect what came out of the man’s mouth.

“So, you are her to help her…just like you did in Montana?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me right,” the judge barked.

Michael sat there stunned.

“I think enough has been said here,” Michael said, getting up.

“Mr. Armstrong, sit down!” he said, motioning to the chair in front of him. He watched Michael take a seat. When he took a deep breath, Michael spoke, “I am just here to help her with the cattle drive this fall. I give you my word.”

“Does she know?” the judge questioned him again.

“About the accident, yes, about the other, no,” Michael said, looking at the man.

“She needs to know,” the judge said with a curious look. “You must understand, Mr. Armstrong. I am just looking after the best interest of my daughter.” Before Michael could respond, there was a knock at the door.

As the door slowly opened, they both heard her. “Dad, I need to talk to…” she said, stopping in mid-sentence. Standing there with her hands on her hips, she glared at her father. “What the hell is going on?” she asked angrily.

“Just having a talk with the town’s new organic farmer,” he responded.