Saddled and Spurred: A Blacktop Cowboys Novel (2 page)

Buckeye Joe’s, the only bar in town.

The Horseshoe Diner, the lone restaurant in town.

Dunlap’s, the only feed store and gas station in town.

C-Mart, the sole convenience/grocery store in town.

Danke Law Office.

The Tumbleweed Motel, the only motel in town.

Bernice’s Beauty Barn, the lone hair salon, which also housed Get Nailed, the only nail salon in town.

McMasters Farmers Union Insurance, the only insurance agency in town.

Wyoming First Credit Union, the only bank in town.

The Methodist Church.

The Lutheran Church.

The Baptist Church.

The Catholic Church.

Yeah, Harper’s options were limited. Severely limited.

Susan Williams, owner of Buckeye Joe’s, would never hire her, since Harper’s mother, Dawn, the former cocktail waitress at Buckeye Joe’s, had run off to Mexico with Susan’s husband, Mac, eighteen months ago.

Genie Lewdonsky, owner of the Horseshoe Diner, would never hire her, since Harper beat out Genie’s only daughter, Mariah, for the title of Miss Carbon County. And homecoming queen. And prom queen. Harper’s last-minute entry in the Miss Sweet Grass contest irked Mariah—and her mother—especially after Harper won the crown.

Bruce Dunlap, owner of Dunlap’s Feed, would never hire her, since Harper’s mother snuck off with Mac when she was supposedly “in love” and involved with Bruce.

Ralph Doughtery, manager of the C-Mart, would hire her only if she dated him—aka bedded him. Since the man covered his bald head with a cheap toupee and his teeth resembled those fake “Billy Bob” kind found around Halloween, that wasn’t happening. Oh, and he’d run around with her skanky ho of a mother too.

Danke Law Office was open only one day a week.

McMasters Farmers Union Insurance was a family-run operation. Unless she married Jimbo McMasters, the fortysomething only son everyone in town suspected was gay, she couldn’t even fetch coffee for them.

According to local gossip, Wyoming First Credit Union hadn’t hired a single new employee in the last twenty years.

The Tumbleweed wouldn’t reopen until June.

And she already worked for Bernice.

Harper doubted any of the churches in town would let her heathen hands even scrub their toilets.

Her head fell back onto the couch cushions. She stared at the dingy, rust-stained ceiling tiles. No doubt she’d have to drive to Rawlins to find work. Which could be problematic, with Bailey’s school schedule and the fact that they had only one car. Luckily Bailey was staying overnight with her friend Amy—Harper was glad Bailey wasn’t around to see her panic and distress.

Sad that her life had always run parallel to one of those downon-her-luck country songs.

Her cell phone jangled, startling her out of her morose musings, and she dug in her purse until she found it. “Hello?”

“Do you have any idea how fucking boring it is driving across Texas? My God. And people think there’s nothin’ to see in Wyoming? Dude. This stretch of road is like the highway to hell. Seriously.”

Her friend Celia Lawson seemed to have a sixth sense, knowing when Harper needed to talk. “Texas, huh? Isn’t that out of your circuit?”

“Yep. I’m heading to Tanna Barker’s for a few days. Her vet is gonna look at Mickey’s leg before we hit the next event.”

After sneaking around for a few years on the local rodeo circuit, Celia finally had her brothers’ blessing to chase her dream of becoming a world champion barrel racer. The new rodeo season commenced in January, and Celia was determined that this year she’d make it to the American Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas. “It’s still giving him problems?”

“Some. It hasn’t affected my performance yet, but I wanna make sure it’s nothin’ serious. And it’ll be a while before I get back up there so Eli can take a look at it.”

“How long is a while?”

“At least a month. Why? Do ya miss me?”

“No.”

Celia laughed. “Liar. So what’s up with you?”

That’s when Harper completely broke down. Her words were an incoherent jumble as she sobbed. Through a bout of hiccups, she mumbled, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to unload.”

“Now you’ve really got me worried because you never cry.”

“It’s different this time, Cele. I’ve used up every bit of grant money I had left over. I wasn’t making much at the tanning salon, but some was better than none. And we both know why no one in town will hire me.”

Celia was quiet on the other end of the line—a rarity for her.

“So because our rent is so cheap here and we’re close to Bailey’s school, I’ll have to find a job in Rawlins. Probably in a bar or supper club so the nighttime hours won’t interfere with Bailey’s schedule.”

Again Celia didn’t respond.

“Celia? You still there?”

“Yeah. Just thinkin’. Tossing a couple of things around.” Another pause. “You ain’t opposed to workin’ outside, are you?”

Harper bit her lip to keep from bawling. Good-hearted Celia would call her brothers and line up work on their ranch. While that was above and beyond, Harper had enough problems holding her head up in this town. “Look, Celia—”

“Can that tone, Harper. Jeez. I’m not gonna ask Abe and Hank to hire you, but there might be another option. So do you have a problem with ranch work?”

Should she admit she had no idea what “ranch work” entailed? No. She’d hear Celia’s proposal first. “No problem with it. Why?”

“Sit tight. I’ve got a call to make and then I’ll call you right back.”

The line went dead, and Harper wondered what Celia was up to. It wasn’t like she had anything else to do but wait and find out.

Bran Turner ignored his cell phone the first time it rang. And the second. At the third attempt, he just picked the fucking thing up and snarled, “What?”

“Jesus, Bran. You always this grumpy first thing in the morning?”

“I am when I just fell into bed two hours ago.”

“Up late partyin’, were you?”

“Fuck off. I was up late calving.”

She laughed. “Oh, I see. That’s why you’re in such a pissy mood. You fell into bed all by your lonesome.”

“Like that’s news. Is there a point to this call, little girl? Or you just bored and needin’ someone to harass?”

“‘Little girl,’ ” Celia snorted. “For the record, I’m twenty-three. And the raunchy things I’ve seen against the pickups, in the horse trailers, and behind the chutes, traveling the circuit? Dude. They’d even make
you
blush.”

“Doubtful.” Bran rolled flat on his back. His buddy Hank’s little sister, Celia, suffered from loneliness on the road to rodeo glory and phoned him from time to time just to shoot the shit. But this didn’t feel like one of those calls. “Is this your way of asking me for advice on how to spice up your sex life? Or do you want a personal demonstration?” He grinned. That oughta get the hellcat’s back up.

“No. Like I’d ask you for advice, you fuckin’ pervert,” she retorted. “Hank’d castrate you if you laid a hand on me.”

“True. It’d feel incestuous, bein’s I’ve known you since you were toddling around in diapers.”

“Story of my life. I’m trying to make up for lost booty time, since all the hot, hunky cowboys I grew up around refuse to see me as a woman. But I’m changin’ that. Just you watch.”

Bran frowned. Sounded like Celia had a specific cowboy in mind.

Before he could demand names or remind her to be careful, she said, “Look, here’s the deal. I know you’re busting ass, doin’ everything yourself since Les’s accident.”

“And?”

“And I know from talking to Hank that no one’s applied for the job as your temporary hired hand.”

A freak accident with an ornery bull had left Bran’s hired man, Les, with a busted hip and out of commission during the busiest part of the year in the cattle business. It sucked on a number of levels. Not only did he feel guilty about Les’s injury, but he couldn’t permanently replace the guy while he was healing up. Which meant whoever Bran hired would have the job only until Les was back on his feet.

Muddy Gap wasn’t exactly a hotbed of job prospects—even when the job paid well. Word of mouth among his friends and other ranchers hadn’t yielded any applicants. Putting an ad in the
Muddy Gap Gazette
, which reached four other communities? That was pointless too. Not a single man had applied. Bran had resigned himself to doing everything alone and just dealing with the exhaustion.

“Bran? Did you fall asleep?” Celia demanded.

“No. Just trying to figure out what you’re up to.”

“Why are you so suspicious when I’m just bein’ a good neighbor?”

He snorted. “Because I know you, Celia. You lie.”

“I do not! Name one time.”

“How about all those times you kept the fact you were competitively barrel racing a secret from your brothers? For over three years?”

“Which only means I’m good at keeping secrets from people I love for their own good,” she replied sweetly.

“You are very manipulative, especially if you get something out of it.”

“I am not! Name one time I’ve manipulated you.”

“How about right now?”

She sighed dramatically. “Fine. I totally understand that you don’t trust me. I’m a little hurt that you think I’d take advantage of you to somehow benefit myself.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt you’ll get over that sting of hurt,” he drawled. “I’ve no doubt whatever scheme you’re up to will have some added benefit for you. So why don’t you quit playing the part of the insulted maiden and tell me what’s what.”

“You know . . . I don’t think I
will
tell you that I found you a hired hand, Mr. Smart-ass.”

That made him sit up and take notice. “No joke?”

“No joke. I swear. That’s why I called you.”

“Where’d you find him?”

“Don’t you worry about that. Drop your cock and grab your socks, Bran. Your new hired hand will be on your front stoop within the hour.” The phone went dead.

Bran glared at his cell phone. “Son of a bitch. When I get my hands on that girl, I’ll . . .”

Still cursing, Bran threw back the covers and stumbled down the hallway to his bathroom.

Harper pounced on the phone the second it rang. “Celia?”

“Good news! I found you a job, right outside of Muddy Gap. It might have funky hours the first few weeks, but after that it should level off. It pays well.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. You’ll be workin’ on a ranch.”

“What will I be doing?”

“Whatever Bran tells you to do.”

Harper froze. Her mouth went bone-dry. “Bran. As in Bran Turner?”

“Yep. He’s a longtime family friend, his hired hand got injured, and he’s needing temporary help.”

Skeptically, Harper asked, “How’d the guy get injured?”

“I dunno. Between us, Les is not that bright. I think he tripped over his own two feet. Anyway, he’s out of commission until the end of May, which fits into your time frame perfectly.”

“Too perfectly. You sure this isn’t some kind of romantic fix-up?”

Celia laughed. “You and Bran? Please. You are
so
not his type. And vice versa. This is just me helping out two friends who need something from each other.”

Harper stopped pacing. “Bran’s okay with this?” She couldn’t bring herself to ask the real question:
Does Bran know I have zero experience with livestock and anything else related to ranching?

“I just got off the phone with him. He’s expecting you in about forty-five minutes.” Pause. “You know where he lives?”

“No clue.”

“Three miles past the turnoff to my house, there’s a fish-shaped mailbox. Turn right at the cattle guard and go a quarter mile until you see his trailer. He keeps the road plowed. That’s how you’ll know you’re in the right place.”