A Texas Bond by Shannon Taylor Vannatter

Author:Shannon Taylor Vannatter
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2020-11-26T16:03:10+00:00

* * *

The sound of Stacia’s sander reached Ross before he ever stepped through the open back door of the workshop the next morning.

“The pregnant jersey didn’t come to feed this morning, so I’m off to go hunt her up,” he hollered.

“I hope she’s okay.” Stacia didn’t turn off her tool or look up from her claw-foot tub project.

“Is this her first calf?”

“Yes. She might be protective. Take some range cubes to distract her with and call if you need help.”

“I’ve got this. But thanks.” No way would he let her think he couldn’t handle a cow. Not with her just beginning to count on him. He hurried toward the barn.

He grabbed a blanket and tack from a stall, and tucked two handfuls of cubes in his pocket.

With a rope on his arm and the saddle against his hip, he opened the gate and clicked his tongue as he approached the buckskin filly assigned to him. She followed him out of the barnyard and stood still, flicking her black tail, as he fastened the gate, then approached her.

“Hey girl.” He ran his hand down her golden face. “You’re ready for another ride, aren’t you?” He set the blanket and saddle on her back, tightened it in place and slipped the bridle over her head. The horse had trusted him like this the very first time he’d ridden her.

Unlike Stacia. But over the last several days, they’d jumped a few hurdles.

He slid his foot into the stirrup and the horse stood stock still as he mounted.

“Yah.” He urged her into a canter, searching the edge of the woods as he rode. The jersey cow would blend in with the yellowed grass. Hard to find. He hoped if she’d had the calf or was in the process, coyotes hadn’t found her.

Nothing. He followed the trail into the woods, crossed the river at a shallow point and searched the next field. Over by a cluster of large, round hay bales, he saw something move. Small. Either the calf or a coyote. He squeezed his heels into the buckskin’s sides urging her into a full gallop.

As he neared, he was able to make out the calf with its mother close by, totally blending in with the bales. Still. Wary. He might have to call Maverick to distract her, so he could get to the calf. But no way would he call Stacia. He couldn’t take the chance of shaking her burgeoning faith in him.

He led the horse to the farthest hay bale, dismounted and made his way around the maze of bales to the cow’s other side, then gingerly headed in her direction.

She made a gruff, growling sound—universally known to ranchers as mad mama moo. Oh boy. “Come on, little mama. I’m just trying to help. If y’all stay out here tonight, the coyotes will come and neither of us want that.”

She took a few trotting steps toward him and he ducked behind a bale. The calf was no help; it stayed right under her.

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