Steal Her Heart (Kaid Ranch Shifters Book 1) Page 2

  “What kind of predators?” he asked, his voice gritty and low.

  For some reason, the gravel in his tone lifted chills on her arms. “Wolves.”

  “Ain’t no wolves in these parts anymore. And we haven’t seen a single one on the Kaid Brother’s Ranch. You must be mistaken.”

  “Well, if they’re coyotes, they’re mutants. They look two hundred pounds when I see them at night, they hunt as a pack, and they’re faster than any animal I’ve ever seen. Too fast for me to pull a trigger on them when I get close enough, and lord knows I’ve tried to put them down. I’m not a bad shot either, but these are something I’ve never seen.”

  Just before the man ducked his gaze to the mud and blocked his face with his cowboy hat, his eyes flashed gold.

  Maris gasped and took a few steps forward. “Your eyes.”

  But when he lifted his face and locked his attention on her, they were regular brown. Maybe she’d imagined it, or the early morning sunlight was playing tricks on her.

  “What about my eyes?” he asked, his dark eyebrows lowering under his hat.

  Maris shook her head. “I thought I saw…” She didn’t even know what she thought. Gold eyes? On a man? “Never mind.”

  She turned, shaking her head at how thoroughly she’d lost her damn mind and began to walk away.

  “You didn’t finish our game,” he called from behind her.

  She turned again. “What game?”

  “A truth for a truth. I’m not Ranch Manager over at the Kaid Brother’s Ranch.”

  “Okay.” Maris shrugged, walking backward. “So what are you?”

  She could see the devil in that man’s slow smile. “I keep the predators away.”

  Chapter Two

  Maris took her seat on a set of old wooden risers, right in the center of the auction room. It was dim in here, the lights concentrated at the front of the room where Dawson Kelley was herding a pair of Angus bulls into the viewing pen. They were huge, mature animals. A pang of envy took her when the cowboy next to her lifted his paddle to bid on them. Gah, if she could afford even one of those bulls, it would’ve taken her breeding program up to the next level. What would’ve it mattered, though? Wolves would get it eventually, just like they’d been taking her cows.

  Next up was a dozen beef cows, a couple of goats in between, and then onto the bigger groups. When hers came out, Marshmallow Face was leading the way, as always, mooing her little heart out.

  Maris pursed her lips and pulled her brown Carhartt trucker hat lower over her eyes.

  “This is an intact breeding herd and solid producers, being sold by Willow Switch Ranch. This is the biggest group we have on the docket today, mostly Angus cross, none are bred right now, but ten have calves on them. Dawson, go ahead and usher those on out and bring in the rest of them.”

  Dawson could barely move in the pen because it was so full, but with some yelling and whistling and slapping on their flanks with a stick, the cows moved on out of the open gate on the other side and made room for the rest of her herd.

  Maris tried to pop her knuckles, but it was just habit. Her knuckles never actually cracked. Her leg shook in quick succession, and the old cowboy next to her leaned in. “Your herd?”

  She didn’t look at him because she didn’t want him to see how upset she was. Ranchers were bred tough. Poker faces were everything in this community.

  He sighed. “I’m sorry, honey. It’s real rough what you’re having to do.”

  Her voice would crack or shake if she spoke, so she nodded once for his kindness and rested her boots on the empty bench in front of her, rested her elbows on her knees, and clenched her hands together in front of her mouth.

  Please let a rancher take them, not a feed lot wanting to fatten them up for butchering. They have good breeding years left. Let a rancher pick them up, please please please…

  The bidding started. God, her heart was pounding so hard. Paddles raised quick all around the room.

  She didn’t know why, but she glanced up to the back right corner of the auction room. Bryson Locke was standing up there, his massive shoulder leaned against the wall and his cowboy hat pulled low. He wasn’t looking at the chaos of the paddles going up as the auctioneer spoke almost too fast to understand. Instead, he was staring directly at her.

  His arms were crossed over his chest, making him look even broader and more intimidating through his shoulders. A paddle with the number 1010 hung from his hand. The men standing near him were shorter by a head, at least. He didn’t blink, and he didn’t break their eye contact, just held her trapped in his gaze here in the dim lighting.

  And then Bryson did something that shocked her.

  He dragged his attention to the auctioneer, nodded, and lifted his paddle.

  What.

  The.

  Fuck.

  Wide-eyed, Maris scanned the room. The bids were slowing down.

  “Going once…going twice…”

  “Thirty,” Grant Faraday called out, lifting his paddle.

  Thirty thousand for her entire herd. Shit, he was bidding high. He was a buyer for one of the biggest feed lots in the area. He would buy them, fatten them up immediately, and take them to slaughter. She didn’t want that.

  She looked back up at Bryson, but he was glaring at Grant. He flicked up his paddle again. Then Grant, then him, as the auctioneer picked up energy and spoke even faster. Flick. Flick. Someone in the crowd hollered, “Get ’em boys!” and people started whistling and cheering. Flick. Flick.

  Bryson’s face twisted into something monstrous. He said something to Grant, standing just a few rows ahead of him, but she couldn’t make out his words over the chatter of the auctioneer and the building volume of the room. Whatever he said though…well, it made Grant Faraday visibly swallow hard and look back at the auctioneer, shake his head slightly, and bow out of bidding.

  “Too rich for me,” he called.

  The auctioneer crowed, “Sold to number ten-ten, Mr. Locke of the Kaid Brother’s Ranch, for forty-one thousand dollars! Holy Lord, folks, that’s what’s goin’ down today. Well this auction just got exciting!”

  Maris released a huff of breath and looked around, ears ringing from the mutterings and whistles, and applause. Someone clapped Bryson on the back as he made his way down from the top row. His boots made hollow thuds against the wooden stairs, but he didn’t look at her at all. She tracked him all the way to the hallway that led to the auction office, up until the second he disappeared completely.

  The old cowboy beside her leaned in and gave her a grin. “If you gotta lose ’em, you could do worse than losing ’em to the Kaid brothers.”

  “Right,” she murmured. “You have a good auction, mister.”

  The cowboy gave her a wink and a smile, then flicked his paddle up on a trio of Hereford calves. In a rush, she stood and made her way down the rows, clomping down the stairs much less gracefully than Bryson had.

  He was at the payment office in the hall, talking to Meredith behind the counter. He had put his wallet back in his pocket and had folded up a receipt by the time she caught up to him.

  “Why did you do that?” she blurted out.

  Bryson ignored her and did an about-face, made his way toward the glowing orange exit sign. He had to turn sideways—sideways!—to get through the door. He was that big. Lord, his daddy musta been a T-rex. She jogged after him until she could walk right next to him. This close, his bulk blocked out the whole sky when she looked up at him.

  “Hey, why did you do that?” she asked again. “You overpaid. You and I both know it.”

  “Are you complaining?” he asked without turning around.

  “A little. I want to know what your intentions are.”

  “Lady, I don’t owe any explanations. I was nice. Just say thank you.”

  “But why? Men don’t do nice things without a hidden agenda.”

  “Is that right? You have a mighty low opinion about men,” he said. His tone was dark with
irritation now.

  Gads, he walked fast. Big, powerful strides, and she was having trouble keeping up with him, the mud as thick as it was. She was gonna lose a boot, and she wasn’t Cinderella. And this fella sure wasn’t prince charming, made very clear when he slapped the back of his neck and rounded on her. “Buzz off, Duck,” he growled.

  “W-what?” she stammered, locking her legs. The mud made slurping sounds against her boots as she skidded to a stop.

  “That’s what you are, right? Follow a man around like that, and it’s a dangerous game. Like a little baby duck after its mom. I don’t like people at my back. Ease up. Go on back inside, get your money, and go celebrate. Buy yourself a nice steak dinner and a glass of wine. I have shit to do, and I ain’t inclined to answer your questions.” He twitched his chin toward the sale barn, and there it was again, a strange glow in his eyes. Just a flash, and then they looked regular again. “Shoo, Duck.”

  She’d never been so offended to be called a name. And, oh, she got insulted a lot, because she was a woman with her own herd trying to make a name for herself in a man’s world. But being called a baby duck by this man on one of the worst days of her life was too much.

  She slapped him. Right across the face, she slapped him. Now, she’d never lost her temper enough to slap a person before, but she was pretty sure they were at least supposed to flinch. That’s not what happened. Bryson didn’t even blink, and she hadn’t fuckin’ tickled him either. She’d landed a good, loud slap, but his stony jaw didn’t even move. Her hand, though, hurt like the dickens. “Don’t shoo me and don’t call me that.” Because ground rules. She knew better than to let a man treat her like that and get away with it. Hand throbbing, she clenched it and turned around. “Take care of my cows,” she muttered, squishing her way back toward the auction barn.

  She dared one glance back, but it only pissed her off more.

  The brute was smiling.

  Chapter Three

  Errands were done. Maris had made a big payment at the bank to keep the collectors off her back, got groceries and, yeah, she’d gone out and got herself a steak dinner and a glass of wine, though she’d never tell that oaf Bryson Locke if she ever saw him again. He didn’t control her. He’d just given her a craving when he’d mentioned it, that’s all.

  She pulled her old beater Ford pickup down the long lane that led to her house. Her tires crunched on the gravel as she took a sharp turn onto the long driveway of Willow Switch Ranch. She passed by Marshmallow Face, chewing her cud by the fence and staring at her as she drove past. Maris waved to her, like the cow knew what that meant. They were her only friends, though, and she was feeling a tiny bit buzzed from that glass of wine. Waving seemed appropriate.

  There were the other cows grouped together. Two of them were butting heads, and a few of the calves were lying right by the fence. Cuties.

  Look at all her cows, having a happy moment in the pasture…

  Wait, the cows were in her pasture.

  Eeeeerk. Maris slammed on the brakes.

  She did a quick head count. She was pretty sure all of her cows were back in their pasture. But…she’d sold them. To the Kaid Brother’s Ranch. And now they were back here. Eating her grass. And mooing. And pooping, and chewing, and staring at her.

  This was like calculus for Maris right now. “I don’t understaaaaand,” she murmured, easing her truck forward again.

  There were deep tire tracks from a trailer all up and down her little one-lane road, but when she pulled up to the unloading corral, no one was there.

  The man she’d slapped across the face had come straight here and unloaded her cows back into her pasture while she was paying debts and eating dinner.

  What.

  The.

  Fuck.

  Okay, what had he solved? He’d paid her for what? For nothing? She wasn’t some sad charity case who needed a man to give her money. And not just a man, but a stranger. A tall, mysterious, dark, tattooed, handsome, intimidating, sexy cowboy stranger. But none of that mattered! He’d dumped her cows back onto bloodstained ground. Had he not heard her when she’d said she was selling because of predators? The wolves were still here. There were bones all over this damn pasture. Bones of a herd that were being devoured one by one.

  And again, she wasn’t a charity case!

  Emboldened with the last remnants of the wine buzz, she yanked her truck in reverse and sprayed mud behind her as she peeled out toward the main road.

  She didn’t need anything from a man. She’d made that mistake before, and all he left her with was a broken heart. If she was going to continue ranching, she was going to do it on her own terms, not take a massive check from some nosey, abrasive, pushy do-gooder.

  She’d never been on the Kaid Brother’s Ranch before, but she was about to say an official hello to the neighbors.

  She hoped that interferin’ jackass was ready for the hell that was headed his way.

  Chapter Four

  “Aww, shiiiit,” Bryson murmured as he backed the trailer into the space beside the unloading arena. In his side mirror, he could see Wesley Kaid riding up on his favorite horse, Rango. Even with his hat pulled low, his narrowed eyes were easy to make out as he studied the empty trailer.

  “Here we go,” Bryson huffed out as he threw the truck in park and got out. He didn’t look up at Wesley or speak until he was unhitching the trailer from his black diesel F350. “What?” he ground out without turning around. Asshole would hear him. He had the ears of a dog.

  The leather of the saddle creaked as Wes drew up behind him. With a soft growl in his throat, Bryson turned and leaned against the front of the trailer. “I told you a million times I don’t like people behind me.”

  Wes cast his attention to his brother, Hunter, sauntering their way from the house. The Kaids might be brothers, but they looked nothing alike. Wes had blue slanted cat-like eyes that missed nothing, chiseled cheekbones, a lean build, and shoulder-length brown hair, while his younger brother, Hunter, kept his blond hair cut short, and was built like a semi. Wes might look like the smaller of the two, but a man would be wiser to mess with the big one. Wes didn’t give a single fuck about a fair fight. He would have a man gutted before his brother even moved to throw a punch.

  “We got a call said you bought us a big haul. Bought a whole herd from the ranch next door to add to our numbers, and I must say,” Wes said, dragging his attention back to Bryson, “we sure were pleased. But low and behold, you show up dragging an empty trailer, so I guess I’m just confused on where the beef went.”

  “Ain’t your beef,” Bryson drawled before he spat on the ground.

  “Yeah?” Hunter asked, frowning as he pushed his cowboy hat back and came to a stop by Rango. “Then whose beef did Dixie Johnson see you hauling out of the auction?”

  “Mine.” Bryson cocked his head and dared Wes to jump off his horse and start a fight with him. Again.

  Wes stayed put though, smart cowboy, and arched his eyebrows. “Yours?”

  “I bought them with my money, so yeah, mine.” Sometimes he wanted to throttle Wes just for lookin’ at him wrong. He hated that asshole. “You ask a lot of questions like you’re accusing me of something.” Bryson rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. “You accusing me of something, Wesley?” Wes hated being called his full name. Bryson was probably, definitely gonna get in a fight today, but bring it on. He’d been itching for one since he saw the tears in Maris’s eyes. The quit in that woman had made him feel angry and protective for reasons he didn’t understand.

  “It just seems like you went to that auction to get us some more cattle, and you came back with zero fuckin’ cattle. You gotta job to do—”

  “And I do that job—”

  “But you’re out on the clock buying cattle out from under us with money you earned from working our ranch!”

  Hunter grabbed Rango’s reins as the horse pranced, disturbed by his rider’s anger. “Wes—”

  “Shut the fuck up, Hunter. You
wanna run this ranch like a pussy? You wanna have another bad year like the last? Like the one before that? Then go on then, go lenient on him, let the bruin run this place.” He twitched his head toward Bryson. “Let him do what the fuck he wants. Let him steal from us—”

  “What do you have that I need to steal?” Bryson yelled, stepping forward. “What do you have that I can’t get for my damn self?”

  “A ranch!” Wes yelled, face turning crimson. When Hunter backed off, Wes yanked back the reins and pulled his horse in a tight circle. “That’s why you came sniffing here for a job, right?”

  “You put an ad in the paper, you dipshit.”

  Hunter tried to quiet the fight. “He’s right, Wes, we hired him.”

  “Shut the fuck up!” Wes and Bryson yelled at the same time. Peacemakers, man. He was interrupting a good argument.

  “Y’all go on and kill each other then,” Hunter muttered, throwing his hands up and walking away. “I ain’t stitching you up again, though! Y’all can bleed out for all I care.”

  Bryson rounded on Wes. “You hired me to do a job. I do the job. I don’t make trouble.”

  “You’ve killed three cows and our good bull this year, you sack of shit. That ain’t your job. That’s the opposite of your job.”

  “And how many have I saved? Huh?” Bryson yelled.

  “Where’s our cows?” Wes screamed, trying to control his spooked horse.

  “My cows are at my new ranch,” Bryson snarled, pushing away from the trailer and toward the cattleman’s cabin he lived in.