Come Home, Cowboy. Cathy Mcdavid

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Come Home, Cowboy - Cathy Mcdavid


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hay, looking at her audience every few minutes. Nearly half of the sanctuary’s two hundred mustangs surrounded the cattle barn, milling impatiently. The remainder had stayed in the hills. Eventually, however, they’d come down. If not today, then tomorrow or the next day, driven by hunger and the slim pickings.

      Rubbing the palm of her right hand through the leather gloves she wore, Cara rolled her head from side to side. Aches and pains were a constant.

      No wonder. Feeding and caring for two hundred horses was hard work. Thank God. Most nights, she fell into an exhaustion-induced slumber in which she could escape the guilt and grief that filled her days.

      On those rare nights when sleep evaded her, she sat alone in the rocking chair by her window, revisiting her worst memories and blaming herself for something no amount of counseling had convinced her wasn’t her fault.

      “I’m not sure why, but I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

      Cara rounded and bit back a retort. The last person she wanted to see stood before her. When had he arrived and how had he gotten into the feeding station without her hearing? Catching sight of his horse tethered to the railing behind him explained it. No roaring engine to alert her.

      “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She resumed cutting open hay bales.

      Josh grabbed a thick stack of flakes before she could and added them to the feeder. “Two months I’ve been here, and you still try to avoid me.”

      “You actually have to ask why?”

      “I’m not the enemy, Cara.”

      “You’re not my friend, either.” She moved in front of him. “And I don’t need your help.”

      He ignored her and lifted the remaining flakes as if they weighed nothing. “We’re going to be living together for the next year, at least. It would serve us both to get along.”

      “We’re not living together.” Apparently, he didn’t carry a pocketknife, for he waited for her to cut open the next bale. “You’re staying in the guest suite.”

      “Living at the ranch, then.”

      “I get along with you.” As best she could. He didn’t make it easy.

      “You tolerate me.”

      “August promised the ranch to Gabe.” She stood back, hands on her hips. “He’s the one who worked alongside August. The one August trained to take over.”

      Josh took advantage of her irritation and lifted half the bale into the next feeder. “So I’m told. By you and Gabe and Raquel. Repeatedly. Yet he left the ranch to all three of his sons.” The remaining hay followed.

      The man was persistent, and she didn’t like persistent people. Too reminiscent of her ex-husband. Though in all fairness to Josh and anyone else, her ex went above and beyond. If not for him demanding she stay and continue their argument, Javier might not have—

      “I’m sorry,” Josh said between armfuls. “I know you don’t like the situation.”

      “None of us do.”

      “You have your sanctuary.”

      She crossed her arms and eyed him. “Which you want.”

      He stopped. “The cattle operation is barely getting by. The sanctuary pastureland is some of the best on the ranch.”

      “Grass wouldn’t be in such sort supply if you hadn’t bought four hundred steer last month.”

      “That wasn’t my decision alone. Gabe is the one who suggested we buy the steer.”

      “And it’s his fault they were sick with red nose?”

      Josh’s expression hardened. “I didn’t say that. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

      She had. Mostly because she understood why Gabe had pushed for the purchase of the steer. He wanted his half brothers gone more than Cara did.

      With the help of their neighbor, Theo McGraw, and the money Cole had received from selling his championship horses, the steer were now healthy and thriving, recovered from the virus. They were also eating. A lot.

      “Cattle are what put the roof over our heads and the food on our table,” Josh said.

      “I’ll pay rent,” Cara answered stiffly. Donations were down, but she’d find the money somehow.

      “We don’t want your money.”

      She resisted lashing out. The fact was, she did depend on Dos Estrellas for her room and board. The arrangement hadn’t felt one-sided when August was alive. Cara had contributed to the household by running errands, cooking and cleaning so that Raquel could devote herself entirely to August’s care.

      Since his death, Cara had poured herself even more into the sanctuary, her contributions at home not needed as much. She supposed it was possible for others, like Josh, to view her as a freeloader. He didn’t see her as part of the family like Raquel and Gabe did. The way August had. They’d taken in her and Javier without a single qualm or hesitation after she and her ex separated. She loved them for it.

      “What do you want?” she asked testily.

      “If this ranch goes under, you’ll lose the sanctuary.”

      “Hmm. Either I lose the sanctuary by giving the land back to you and your brother, or I lose it because the ranch goes under.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “Let see, which option do I pick?”

      Josh’s expression remained hard. “You’d be giving the land to Gabe, too.”

      “He doesn’t want it.”

      She had Josh there. Gabe was her staunchest supporter. He’d fought his half brothers tooth and nail, insisting she be allowed to continue using the five hundred acres August had granted to her in his will.

      “Not yet.” Josh arched one brow. “He may change his mind when we go broke.”

      “He’ll sell off some of the cattle first. He’s done it before.”

      “Cole and I weren’t here then.”

      She tensed. “Are you threatening me?”

      “I’m asking you to see reason.”

      “Ah.” She nodded. “Your version of reason.”

      “Let’s not argue. That’s not why I came here.”

      “Why did you?”

      “First we finish feeding.” He hoisted a bale from the flatbed trailer.

      She started to protest, again, that she didn’t need help. The pain shooting up her arm from her sore hand changed her mind.

      They labored side by side for several minutes and were almost done when he asked, in a far more amiable tone, “What got you started rescuing mustangs?”

      She considered making an excuse about why she didn’t feel like talking. Instead she said, “The Powells.”

      “The family who owns the horse stables up the road?”

      She nodded. “We’re friends with them. They rescued Prince a few years ago. He was the last wild mustang in the valley. Up until the 1950s, wild herds continued to roam the mountains. After Prince, the Powells began rescuing other mustangs from all over the state. Ones that were starving or in overpopulated herds or sometimes abused and neglected.”

      “But how did you become involved?”

      “The Powells needed help, and I had time.”

      That was true. It was also true she’d started volunteering after things between her and Manuel had turned bad. Javier was a baby. The Powells hadn’t minded that she brought him along, as they were simply happy for another set of hands. But Josh didn’t need to know that part, and she wasn’t


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