A Cowboy Returns. Kelli Ireland
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he was grateful for the mundane tasks. They kept his mind busy, kept him from thinking too much. He made the appropriate inquiries at the courthouse and filed the required documents as the estate’s representative. Then he’d gone to the newspaper to arrange for the mandatory ads to run in the classifieds. That done, he started for the ranch.
Less than ten miles from the courthouse, he was the only car on the highway. No surprise. The locals would consider traffic heavy if they passed a dozen cars. He was as far from Austin’s bumper-to-bumper lifestyle as he could get. Considering the clown car and his surreal surroundings, it was as if he’d been fired from civilization’s cannon into the wilds of wide-open space. Every instinct he had screamed the landing was going to suck. Bad.
The memory of Reagan—her summertime smell, her cinnamon taste, her feminine strength, her lean body—had haunted him all morning.
She’d always been at the heart of the community. It made sense, then, that she’d married the community’s son.
Everyone loved Luke. He was the kind who stopped to help a stranded motorist and not only fixed their car but topped off their gas and gave them food and a fresh set of directions before sending them on their way. Always neighborly, he’d be the first to volunteer for day work during shipping season. He’d be the last to leave. As a kid, every son had been compared to Luke—his dad had told him several times he would have preferred Luke as a son over him any day. Even Reagan’s mother had expressed her opinion, pushing her daughter toward Saint Luke—and away from Eli. She must have been overjoyed when Reagan married the right man.
Eli would put money on it the guy had evolved to the ultimate cowboy, the type of man every boy wanted to grow up to be. He and Eli had always been casual friends, but at the moment? Eli hated every damn cell in the man’s body.
Rolling the car window down, he breathed in the dry air. New Mexico’s unpopulated roads and wide-open spaces never failed to press their beauty on him without apology—right before they reminded him how insignificant he was.
He’d never been able to accomplish enough to stand out as his own man, always living in his father’s shadow. Never Elijah Covington, but always Max Covington’s boy. And even in that, the only thing that set him apart was that he was the eldest of the three. His greatest distinction was that he’d been his dad’s biggest disappointment. Never quite country enough, never quite smart enough, never quite proud enough of his name, just...never quite enough.
The only one who’d ever made him feel he was more, could be more, had been Reagan.
Seeing her today had shaken him. Hard. She’d been more beautiful than he remembered, those moss green eyes set in a deceptively feminine face. Most people just saw a pretty girl who’d make a good rancher’s wife. He’d always known there was far more to her than that. It had terrified him they’d both end up doing exactly what the community expected of them—him taking over his father’s ranching operation, and her staying on in the little town because she loved her man.
She had stayed, but not for reasons he’d ever understood.
Emotions whipped through him as unchecked as spring winds, tearing up certain pieces of his life and battering others until he was a mess of overlapping memories. When he finally reached the right road, Eli pointed the little car across the first of eleven cattle guard and started through the sand hills. It was a different world out here, yet nothing had changed. He could find his way through this alien landscape with his eyes closed.
Rounding a corner, he rolled to a stop. Cows blocked the road, completely unconcerned with either him or his cartoon car. Waving his arm out the window and shouting, pair after pair of huge brown eyes lifted to blink at him. He honked and snorted at the almost comical beep that made him think of circus cars that dumped out twenty clowns in the ring.
“I am not getting out of this car,” he shouted at them. Laying on the horn, he whistled and eased into the mass of bodies. Slowly, the herd began to move off.
Eli tunneled his fingers through his hair and fought the urge to turn the car around. He could get to Amarillo and catch a flight back to Austin tonight, be in his own bed by midnight and back in the office first thing tomorrow morning. And if it weren’t for the fact Tyson had asked for help, he would have done just that.
Damn it.
His youngest brother had never asked him for anything. Ever. The realization yoked him with heavy guilt. He’d do this for Ty and leave.
And what about Cade? his conscience whispered.
Oh, Cade had asked him for something once, had asked for the one thing he couldn’t give. He’d never forgiven Eli for saying no, either.
Eli whispered dire threats to the little car as it struggled up the final hill. It peaked and the world opened up. From the Sangre de Cristo mountain range to the west, the uninterrupted northern horizon and the plains to the east, open range spread before him with regal silence. His breath caught and his chest ached.
This would always be his place, his heritage and his home. But it seemed as foreign to him as another country, as if a passport should be required to visit his past. He was nothing more than a visitor and an unwelcome one, at that. Trying to ignore the undeniable beauty of the land and the way it called to him, soft and familiar, he put the car in gear, starting forward again. The car rattled over the washboard road. A bolt fell out from under the dash and clunked against the passenger floorboard as Eli’s teeth clattered together.
A dust trail caught his eye. Somebody was tearing through the sand hills. If Eli’d had a four-wheel drive, he would’ve ducked down a side road to avoid being seen. In this thing? He’d be dooming himself to walking, and it was way too far to the ranch to run the risk. Instead, he eased forward at the same time he rolled his window up. It would be easy enough to stay focused on the road and ignore whoever passed him. Might be the smartest thing to do, too.
He gained momentum heading down the hill, the little car bucking over the rutted road. A pickup truck roared by. Eli didn’t look up. Instead, he leaned on the accelerator, jaw tight, wheel strangled in a death grip. Habit had him flipping a hand up in absent greeting. Brake lights lit up the rearview mirror as the truck fishtailed to a stop.
Curiosity got the better of Eli. He slowed as he watched the driver’s side door swing open. The driver jumped down, boots stirring up small puffs of dust as he stormed toward the slowing car. Tall and clearly furious, the man yanked his hat off and tossed it aside without a care. Long legs ate up the distance between them. Lips thinned and eyes hardened the closer the guy came.
Eli let the car drift to a stop even as his stomach went into free fall. His mouth was so dry he couldn’t have share-cropped the space without subsidized water rights. Slipping the car into Park, he couldn’t make himself stop staring until the man was so close Eli could only see his torso in the little mirror.
Eli reached for the door handle.
The man beat him to it, yanking the door open. “Get out.”
Eli’s jaw set. “Out of the car or out of town?”
“Car first, town second.” The low voice was so raw it sounded like it had been dragged over sharp gravel.
His hands ached with the urge to clench into tight fists. “That’s not your call.”
Work-roughened hands reached into the car.
Shoving the man away, Eli lunged to stand. “What’s your—” A meaty fist connected with his jaw, whipping his head to the side. Stars exploded in his vision. Shaking his head, he rounded on the man, considering him through narrowed eyes. “What the he—” A short jab split his lip. “That’s. It.”
Eli threw himself into the fight. Grunting as the other man’s fist connected with his ribs, he spun and kicked out. He connected with a hip, forcing the bastard off him.
The man regained his balance and, chest heaving, charged Eli.
They went down in a heap, arms