"He kept asking me why I couldn't be more like Hannah," she said after a long pause.
"Oh, Rachael. You're never going to be like your sister … "
"I know that!" Rae cut in, "I know that! She knows that! Everyone knows that but him. She's super smart, polite, never does anything wrong. Perfect! And I'm … well, I'm definitely not perfect, am I?"
Elsie winced at the bitter cynicism in her friend's voice. "Well, I think you're perfect just the way you are."
"You have to say that, El, you're my best friend."
"And as your best friend, I'm ordering you to stay out of trouble. At least for one night, alright?" Elsie pleaded. "Can you promise me just one night?"
"Oh, don't worry about me. I'm under lock-down here. Next thing you know I'll be locked up in a jail cell at the sheriff's office."
Elsie rolled her eyes. "Please! You know you can talk your dad around on anything."
"I hope you're right," Rachael sighed. "Well, I gotta go. I'm not even supposed to make any calls. I just needed to talk to another real live human being besides my perfect twin sister."
"Goodnight, Rae. Be nice to Hannah."
"You know I love her, it just … it's hard, you know? Always being the screw up. Always being compared to her."
"I know. You got this, though. You are amazing, Rae. That's why you're my best friend."
"You're pretty amazing yourself. Bye!"
Before Elsie could get anything else out, Rachael had already hung up the phone. She tried to put her friend's problems out of her head. Knowing Rachael, she would wriggle her way out of it and be back in her dad's good graces before sundown tomorrow. She had a way of charming people into forgetting what sort of trouble she'd gotten into.
With a sigh, Elsie pulled up the program that mapped where all the trackers were for the cattle, still thinking about the three that had gone missing earlier in the day. A frown wrinkled her otherwise smooth forehead when she finally located them. There they sat, in a cluster near the southernmost point of the ranch's property. And they weren't moving.
Elsie watched the flashing dots for a long while, waiting for any sign of movement, but after a half hour she knew something was wrong. Maybe they were sick. Maybe they'd gotten into some plant that they shouldn't have while out grazing and needed help. She glanced down at her watch. It was almost midnight. She could make it out there in about under an hour and be back before her daddy realized that she was gone. Besides, anything was better than replaying his words over and over again in her head.
She hastily threw on the same dirt-stained shirt that she'd worn all day. Out of habit, she grabbed the straw hat that she always wore when she was out in the field, taking the time to tuck her long, golden blonde hair up inside it so it wouldn't get in her way. She looked at the revolver on her table for a second but decided against it. It'd be a quick trip out anyways. A moment later, she was sneaking out the back door. Her father was still enclosed in his office, oblivious as he ran through what Elsie knew would be an inexhaustible list of numbers and figures.
It took fifteen minutes to get Goat saddled once more and another five before she was trotting out over the rolling expanse of the ranch towards the spot where she'd spotted the unmoving trackers. Elsie had a feeling that they would still be there and just hoped that she had whatever she needed to help them. She had some antibiotics and some natural painkillers in the rucksack she had slung over her shoulder. She just hoped she'd get there in time to save them.
There was a moment of doubt as she drew near the spot, and Elsie wondered if she shouldn't have just given in and called Dr. Compton, but then she stopped herself. She cared more about the animals than that old grouch. She knew each one by name, had been there for nearly all of their births. He did not.
Minutes later she pulled Goat to a stop on the top of the rise where the GPS had shown the cows to be, but as she scanned the empty area a feeling of unease settled over her. There were no cows.
In fact, there wasn't anything at all.
A coyote's sharp howl broke through the darkness that settled around her and Elsie flinched, jerking on the reins in startled reaction. Goat turned instantly, following her unconscious command, snorting his displeasure at the sharp tug. She patted him on the neck and had just opened her mouth to apologize to the offended horse when, suddenly, something big came barreling towards her. All she could get out before it reached her was a strangled shriek of panic. Her hand flew instinctively to her hip where her revolver would be, and her heart stopped in her throat when she grabbed nothing but the empty night air.
Elsie pulled hard on the reins once more and Goat, in his typical disagreeable way, whinnied loudly before launching his two front hooves into the air. She lost her grip on the reins as Goat bucked wildly. Her world tilted and the last thing she saw before flying off Goat's back was a broad shouldered, tattoo-covered man with piercing dark eyes rushing towards her on the back of a massive horse.
Chapter 3
"Fuck!" Hatchet bit off the curse as he saw the startled gelding pawing at the air, its eyes rolling so wildly that he could see the whites around the edges. That was when he saw the rider-the same farmhand he'd tracked earlier-fly off the saddle. Hatchet didn't realize he was moving until he was already off his own horse and leaping forwards, his arms outstretched in front of him.
He reached the young man just in time, catching the farm hand a bare handful of inches from the ground. Hatchet released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
This is the last fucking thing I needed, he thought to himself as he glanced around the otherwise empty field. He'd just gotten the cattle tied up and ready to go after removing the trackers when he'd heard a sound coming from this direction. Thinking it might be another stray cow, he'd ridden back in a hurry. He hadn't planned on running into another person all the way out here. Not at this time of night.
He glanced down and all the breath that had just left his lungs came right back in again on a sharp intake. What the hell?
The big brimmed straw hat had gotten knocked loose in the fall and wave after silken wave of golden blonde hair fell over his arm. Hatchet had to blink his eyes in the dark several times to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating. But no. He wasn't. The soft honey-colored waves were definitely real, and as he leaned closer he could just make out the outline of wide cheekbones, a pert nose, and a pair of way-too-kissable lips pouting up at him.
"What the fuck!" he cursed again and realized instantly that the body he held pressed against him could never, ever have belonged to a man. There were way too many soft curves and entrancing peaks and valleys to be anything other than a woman's. His own body reacted instantly, and inconveniently, and Hatchet nearly cursed again. But a soft voice stopped him. Her voice.
"Th – thank you," her breath whispered against his face.
"Don't thank me yet, sweetheart," he replied with a thick drawl. His twang always grew heavier when he was aroused and there was no doubt in his mind that holding her fine form in his arms was wreaking havoc on his own body, not to mention stalling his mental faculties altogether.
Hatchet stared down at her for another long moment, still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that the scrawny farm hand he'd seen earlier had actually been this gorgeous woman the whole time. He couldn't believe that he'd been so god-damned wrong.
Shake it off man. You've got a job to do and it sure as hell isn't ogling this beautiful stranger in the dark. The warning rattled through his brain and it took Hatchet a few more seconds than normal to finally heed it. Reluctantly, he pulled back just enough so that he could look down at her fully, examining her for any injuries he might have been too slow to prevent.
"You okay, baby?" The endearment slipped out too easily at the end of the question and shock froze him for a moment.
"I-I'm fine, I think." The woman narrowed her eyes at him, "You may have saved my life, mister, and I'm grateful for that. I truly am. But that does not make me your baby."
"So, you're someone else's baby then?" Hatchet asked, and then nearly punched himself in the forehead. Where the hell had that question come from. What the fuck is wrong with me?
"Not that it's any of your damn business," the spitfire said, still glaring up at him before letting out a sigh and rubbing her temple with one hand. "But no.
Hatchet chose not to look too deeply at the sense of relief he felt at her answer and instead focused on the woman, who was now grimacing slightly, still laid out with his arms around her.
"Hey, you sure you're alright?" he asked worriedly. Part of his worry was for her health, but the other part was all selfish. He still had the cattle waiting and he couldn't afford to take her to a hospital. The nearest one was clear out in Chester's Point. Not to mention the fact that he couldn't have her opening her sweet mouth about him.