Rough Stock(40)

Emma’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve got a bruise on your neck. Or maybe it’s a hickey.”

Rowan had all but forgotten her showdown with the wolf. Quickly she grabbed at the fabric of her shirt and tugged at it.

Emma’s shrewd eyes bored into her. “Wait,” she said. “Is that a hickey? Or…?” She came forward, and Rowan tried to back away. Emma was too fast, though, and the room was too small. She pulled the collar of Rowan’s T-shirt down so hard the fabric nearly ripped. “What the hell is that?!” she cried.

“Nothing,” Rowan insisted. “I had an accident.”

“An accident? What happened? Did you fall in the barn? Why didn’t you call me?”

Rowan sighed. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

“What happened?” Emma demanded.

“I…after you left the other day…there was a wolf.”

“A wolf?!”

“Some wolves,” Rowan corrected, because Willow might tell Emma the truth.

“And you didn’t call me?!”

“You were working, and I didn’t want to upset you. It’s been enough, with Dad. I didn’t want to add to it.”

“Damn it,” Emma huffed. “I should take more time off.”

“If you take any more days off, they’ll fire you. It wasn’t a big deal. We didn’t lose any head. Everything’s fine.”

“Still, you should’ve called me. Troy could’ve come out. He should anyway. How many were there? Did they come back last night? Are there tracks? Are they—?”

“Don’t get worked up, Emma. They’re gone. They’re not coming back.”

Emma’s eyes narrowed again. “What does that mean?”

“Their alpha’s dead.”

“You buried it?”

Rowan didn’t reply.

“So you shot a wolf and didn’t call me. But you called someone. Who? Do I even have to ask? Seth Barlow, is that who you called?”

Rowan bit her lower lip. “I didn’t call him,” she said lamely. “He just showed up.”

“Yeah, and then what?”

Emma stood in the kitchen, hand on her hip, waiting for an answer.

Rowan knew she wasn’t getting out of it.

“He stayed,” she confessed.

“He stayed.”

“He was worried about me! He was there when I got knocked down.”

Emma stared at her. “When you got knocked down? By a wolf?!”

“It’s not a big deal!”

“Well, it was a big enough deal that Seth Barlow apparently spent the night. He was worried about you! I guess I don’t have to ask where he slept.”

“I don’t want to argue, Em.”

Emma sighed. “I’m just scared for you, Rowan. You’re just barely out of all that shit now, and you had to get here by yourself, get your degree, raise your daughter. You’re finally back on your feet, and I just don’t want to see you get knocked down again. Not by a wolf. Not by Court. Not by Seth.”

“Seth wouldn’t do that. He’s not like Court. Not at all. This is different. He’s different.”

There was a thump on the stairs, and Willow appeared, carrying Wooliam. Rowan gave Emma a sharp look to silence her as she poured cereal into a bowl.

“Can we see Daddy again? And Caramel?” the girl asked, sliding onto one of the kitchen chairs.

“Who’s Caramel?” Emma asked.

Willow beamed. “My daddy got me a pony! Just like I said he would.” She turned to Rowan. “Can we go see her again? Please?”

“We…might have to wait a few days, honey,” Rowan replied.

Emma didn’t say anything, but she raised an eyebrow.

Rowan led her sister outside, out of earshot. “Court found out about us,” she said quietly after the front door closed.

“How well did that go?”

Rowan frowned. “About as well as you’d expect. Seth took a swing at him after Court said some nasty things.”

Emma snorted. “Glad someone finally did.”

“We should give it some time,” Rowan mused. “For him to get used to the idea.”

“The idea that what, Rowan? That you and Seth are in love? Together forever? Soulmates?” Emma pressed. “I don’t think Court’s the only one who has to get used to this. If you were anyone else, I’d say Seth’s last name is blinding you right now. You wanted a Barlow so badly, for so long, you’ll take any of them.”

“Emma, I’m not blind! And I’m not stupid. And you know what? Court didn’t even get Willow that pony. Seth did. And he didn’t take any credit for it, either. Willow wants to believe her daddy got her a pony, and so Seth let her believe it, because he cares about her.”

“I didn’t say he was a bad guy, Rowan.”

“Well, he’s not a bad guy! He’s a great guy! He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to us.”

Emma raised a hand, though, and her face softened. “I’m not going to argue with you. I know you well enough to know it won’t do any good. And I can’t say I blame you, not entirely anyway. It’s been a long time since you’ve had anything good in your life except Willow. I can see why you’d be desperate to grab it and hang onto it.”

Rowan bristled. “I’m not desperate, Emma.”

But Emma shook her head. “You’re playing with fire, Rowan. And I have a bad feeling you’re the only one who’s going to end up getting burned.”





Chapter Twenty-Seven




‡


Seth stood alone in the barn, paralyzed by indecision over who needed help most. Walker’s self-imposed isolation made so much more sense now. The idea, true or not, that Dad had killed himself in a last desperate bid to save Snake River was one hell of a secret. And Walker shouldn’t have to carry that burden alone. The fact that he’d tried to at all was a testament to how committed he was to taking care of his younger siblings.

Gabe, though not related by blood, had always felt like a brother, to all of them, simply by virtue of having grown up together. Now that he’d discovered that Rafe was more or less responsible for Manny’s death, who knew what the man was feeling right now?

And Court had inadvertently wandered onto the scene of a head-on collision. Given what he was already dealing with, a second piece of devastating news could capsize the boat he was working so hard to keep afloat.

Seth could feel himself being pulled in every possible direction and felt his family precariously on the verge of being torn apart, as well. Part of him was raging at Walker for not telling them what he suspected, however much or little proof there was. They deserved to know. It was probably best to leave him on his own for now. Out of all of them, Seth was certain Walker could deal with the situation on his own, for now at least.

Seth had no idea what to say to Gabe. Such a huge betrayal, coming from the Barlows, he wasn’t certain there was anything anyone could say to make it right, or apologize enough. Sofia and Dakota would know soon enough, as well. Seth could only pray that the rift that was certain to form between the two families could someday be healed.

It seemed like too much to try and take on, so that only left Court and their unfinished business. Seth made his way slowly to the bunkhouse, trying to rehearse what he’d say in his head, that Court wasn’t necessarily a bad man and that even though there was no hope for him and Rowan, that didn’t mean that hope didn’t exist at all.

He slipped inside to keep the wind out and looked around the main room but didn’t see Court or even Sawyer anywhere. Court’s room was off the kitchen, and Seth stood in front of it, willing himself to knock and get it over with. He lifted his hand, knuckles at the ready, when he heard a familiar, sharp click from the other side of the door.

Panic seized him. He reached down and grasped the knob. When it didn’t turn, Seth stepped back and slammed his body into the flimsy wooden door, splintering the frame as it burst open into Court’s bedroom. There, on the edge of the bed, sat Court…with a revolver in his hands.

Seth snatched at the cocked pistol, closing his hand around it while pushing it away from them both, so no one would get hurt if it went off. Court struggled, just a bit, and Seth, in a moment of desperation, clocked him in the jaw with his left hand, causing Court to finally let go of the gun. Seth backed up across the room, getting himself and the revolver far out of Court’s reach. His back slammed into the far wall, and he had to brace himself against the dresser to catch his breath. When he finally did, he shouted, “What the hell are you thinking?!” His voice echoed off the thin walls.

Court looked up at him plaintively, suddenly looking for all the world like the little boy Seth remembered as they were growing up. “I…” he said quietly and wiped his mouth with a shaking hand. “I have an insurance policy.”

Seth stared at him, wide eyed, unable to comprehend the words.

“It’s not much.” He shrugged. “I figured with the rodeo, I might get hurt. Maybe worse. Might break my neck.”

“Court…”

For the first time since barging into the room, Seth noticed a rag on the bed, and a bottle of stock oil.

Court followed his gaze. “They wouldn’t know, either,” he declared. “It’d just be an accident. Gun went off while I was cleaning it.”