Against the Wall

Chapter Five

After a quick ride to the general store, Sophie spent the rest of the day fine-tuning her proposal. She ignored the new note on her Jeep. This time the note had been more explicit: Your development will destroy the land—please rethink your plan.

She placed it with the first one, wondering if she should file a police report. But the last thing she wanted was to appear like a hysterical female—and the notes weren’t exactly threats. They were more like pleas. Nice, polite pleas. She could handle this. The tribe was certainly against the development. But she couldn’t imagine Jake leaving a cowardly note for her. He was more likely to beat down her door to challenge the proposal.

She ate a quiet dinner with Mrs. Shiller, the sole proprietor of the B&B. After helping clear the dishes, she escaped to her room and the purchases she’d been thrilled to find in the general store. She pulled out the sketchpad and new charcoals from the brown bag. They were beautiful, untouched, ready to be used. The charcoal felt warm and solid in her hand as it vibrated with possibilities. The blank sheet before her called for something. With a sigh, she reached out to create.

Her first drawing captured the clearing with its amazing view of Mineral Lake, tall pine trees, and bouncing robins. Flecks in the rocks sparkled light back to the hazy sun as clouds dropped toward the ground. The movement of charcoal against paper calmed her; even the smell of charcoal dust inspired her to continue.

Her second drawing took hours as she lost herself in every line and shadow. About midnight, she stretched her aching neck and scrutinized her work while spraying a light coat of fixative. Her nerves hummed as Jake stared unapologetically back at her from the paper, his eyes warm and serious, his cheekbones sharp angles over dark hollows, and his mouth full and slightly tipped. Black hair cascaded back from a broad forehead—strength and power flowed through every line across his face.

He was perfect.

And he wasn’t hers to draw.

Her cell phone shattered the peace and she jumped, then dropped the sketchpad and checked the number. Preston. She thought about it. With a sigh, she turned the phone on mute and went to bed.

The hours spent drawing had calmed her to the point that she fell asleep easily. She dreamed a dark, dreamless sleep until the early morning hours. Then, it was no surprise to find herself on her rock near the cliff with robins hopping nearby.

“Bob?” She swung her pretty new boots back and forth, feeling warm in faded jeans and a red sweatshirt.

“Nice boots, Sophie.” In a blink, Bob appeared on his rock.

“Thanks. I like yours, too.” Bob wore deep green lizard cowboy boots under dark jeans and a bright purple cowboy shirt. She probably shouldn’t be so blasé, considering she was meeting with some spirit guide in her dreams; perhaps she was going crazy. But she didn’t feel crazy…she felt content. “Your shirt looks like something Roy Rogers would’ve worn.”

“Where do you think I got it?” Black eyes twinkled at her from his perch on the next rock.

“Did you really know Roy Rogers?”

Bob puffed out a laugh. “It’s your dream. You tell me.”

“You’re not part of my imagination. That’s a fact.”

“Maybe.” Bob shrugged “Maybe not.”

“Well, let’s pretend the answer is ‘maybe not.’ Why are you here?”

“Maybe you’re crazy, Sophie.”

“You know, as a spirit guide, you suck.”

Bob laughed out loud. “Your spirit is just fine. It’s your heart that’s aching.”

“What?” She turned incredulous eyes to an empty rock. “That just sucks,” she yelled into the peaceful meadow. “Get back here.” But only the birds remained.

Sophie sat up in bed with a startled gasp. The pressure of saving the company must be driving her over the edge. “Damn it. Maybe I am crazy.”

She pushed snarled curls off her forehead and swung her feet over the bed. The cold wood floor forced a chill up her legs, and she darted to her suitcase for socks and a comfortable cardigan. Her eye caught the soft light filtering through the silk curtains—and the clock. She gasped as she noted the time—she’d better hurry. What did one wear to a branding party?

With a shrug, she donned dark jeans and a light purple blouse and grabbed a sweater in case the weather turned. A quick swipe of mascara and a clip to contain her curls finished her look. After pulling on her new boots, she secured the chief’s directions in one hand and darted out the door.

Once in the Jeep, she sat for a moment. With an irritated sigh, she jumped out of the car and back inside to grab her sketchbook. She was going to be late.

The directions were simple. Sophie drove through town and turned left at Rain’s Crossing. Soon enough, freshly painted white fences lined both sides of the road where horses ranging from light tan to colorful paints frolicked to the right, while steers and cows dotted the field to the left. She’d have to return when she had more time to sketch the placid scene of contrasting colors.

She pulled in behind a green Ford pickup beside a trio of large brown cows chewing grass in their large mouths. Sophie gave the three an uneasy smile before following the line of trucks up a slight hill. She stopped at the rise and surveyed the ranch below. To the left of a large two-story log-planked house, colorful picnic tables perched among the trees near a large bunkhouse. Several barns, paddocks, and fenced areas stood to the right, as did most of the crowd.

Her boots clomped a rhythmic tune down the hill, toward the sounds of hooting and hollering. Several people stood on or by a three-slatted white fence, shouting encouragement. She spotted Dawn standing on the bottom rail of the sturdy fence and made a beeline for her new friend. She had just placed one foot on the bottom rung when a cheer rose from the spectators.

“This way, Colt!” a man called from inside the square corral.

She knew that voice. Awareness fluttered in her stomach at hearing Jake’s deep baritone. She shifted up to see over the top rung.

Good God. The man was in chaps.

Actual chaps.

Jake’s worn cowboy hat perched atop a grimy forehead as sweat ran in rivulets down his dirty face. Mud and dust caked his black shirt, and light jeans poked through the deep brown chaps protecting his legs. He dug scuffed cowboy boots into the earth while twisting two large horns in his leather-gloved hands, rolling a massive steer to the ground. Jake’s face set into hard lines of determination as he battled the beast.

The steer bellowed when Jake shifted to press one firm knee into its neck, his hands pressing the horns to the ground, effectively immobilizing the animal’s body. Colton rushed in with a needle and inoculated the animal just before another man pressed a hot iron to its flank.

The stench of burning fur filled the air in tune with the steer’s protest. Jake released him and jumped back. The steer leaped to its feet and ran out a narrow side exit into another pasture. The beast had to weigh at least a ton, maybe two. Fortunately, the pen safely kept the spectators from danger.

Jake grinned at Colton across the dusty pen, his dimple winking through the grime. “It’s your turn to roll ’em to the ground.” He yanked off his hat and wiped his forehead with one muscled arm.

“But you’re so good at it,” his brother returned, his face caked with mud.

Sophie stood in shock as warmth pooled deep in her belly. She was so completely out of her element. Yet what a display. She had never seen such masculinity before.

Man against beast.

And man won.

He was filthy. Covered in dirt and who knew what else. The urge to kiss Jake again tempted her. Her mother would be shocked.

His dark gaze found her, and she forgot all about her mother. She may have forgotten how to breathe. Then he smiled and she forgot how to think.

“Well hello, Sunshine.” He pounded his cowboy hat on his chaps and dust flew as he stalked toward her. “You look pretty today.” Then his dimple winked again. “I like your boots.” He stopped just on the other side, eye-to-eye with her as she stood, riveted, on the fence rung.

“Me, too.” Warmth flushed her face. “They’re my favorites.”

“You wear them well.” Something unidentifiable flashed through his eyes. For some reason, his look streaked heat through the rest of her. “Are you going to eat lunch with me?” The dimple returned.

“I didn’t bring lunch.” Her eyes fixed on his mouth.

“I brought enough for both of us.” The sound of another steer prodding toward the pen echoed behind him. “I have about ten more to do before lunch.” He turned back just as the beast rushed into view. “Dawnie, tell Sophie the rules for watching,” he called over his shoulder, his attention on the animal.

Dawn tipped back her cream-colored cowboy hat and gave Sophie a big smile.

“Rules?” Sophie muttered.

“Oh yeah, there are always rules, trust me,” Dawn said with a practiced eye roll. “Basically, if a steer comes your way, take three steps back.”

“Why?”

“Well, we haven’t had one bust through the fence in a while, but it has happened.”

Three steps? Man, she’d run for the car. “Okay.”

“So how was your date?”

Now Sophie rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t a date. It was business.”

“Right.” Dawn straightened. “Colton, watch your left,” she yelled just as the steer turned its head.

Sophie gasped as Colton shifted to the left, narrowly missing being gouged. “Good thing you’re here to watch your brothers,” she said quietly.

Dawn nodded toward the third man in the pen. “I’m here to watch Hawk.”

“Hawk?” The name fit. Thick black hair was cut short above a face too sharp to be rugged. Deep green eyes watched the steer as he waited with the branding iron, his chiseled face fierce in concentration. He stood well over six feet and filled out his black shirt hard. “Can’t say I blame you. Though he looks older than you.”

“Yeah. This is actually his spread. He’s been Colton’s best friend since they were in diapers, and they’re only three and a half years older than me. Though it might as well be a million.”

“Oh. Sorry.” In love with her brother’s best friend? That did suck.

Dawn shrugged. “I’m of age. Next time he’s on leave, I will have graduated from college. Finally.”

“On leave?”

“Hawk’s in the navy, a SEAL. He’s on leave for a week and then he goes back. But,” she said, sadness creeping into the young woman’s words, “it seems like every time he comes back, he’s even further away.” She was quiet for a moment before perking up. “Though Jake was like that, too, and then he got over it.”

“Jake was a SEAL?”

Dawn shook her head. “No. Army Ranger. I don’t know what he did, but I think it took a toll.” A wry grin lit her face. “Though he’s all better now.” A thoughtfulness entered her pretty features. “Not so sure about Quinn.”

“Quinn?”

“Yeah. He was Special Forces—and he doesn’t like to talk about it much. He came back and is the sheriff now.”

“Your brother’s the sheriff?”

“Yep. Believe me, if it wasn’t bad enough trying to find a date with three older brothers, having one of them become the law in town really makes it tough.”

Sophie shook her head. “I can imagine.” What would it be like to have family actually care about you, actually be involved in your life? The Lodge-Freeze family intrigued her. “What about Colton? Is he in the service?”

“Nope. He’s on spring break. He’ll graduate next month in finance. He runs all our family businesses now, but we won’t give him the title or salary until he finishes school.” She grinned. “It’s a family joke.”

Probably had to be family to understand it. “The family business is the ranch?”

Dawn shrugged. “The ranches are included in the family holdings. We’ve diversified over the years.”

Sounded impressive. Sophie eyed the cowboys. There was a lot more to the Lodge men than she’d thought. “What about you, Dawn? Are you studying finance as well?”

“No. I’m a photography major.” The woman teetered on her boots. “Well, and a business minor.”

A hush came over the crowd, and several more people moved toward the fence.

“Buttercup’s next,” Dawn whispered.

“Buttercup?” Sophie asked, her eyes riveted on Jake.

“Buttercup,” Dawn confirmed, a grin in her voice. “Jake named him a few years back after he connected with a horn.”

“Was he hurt?”

Dawn shrugged. “He needed stitches, but it didn’t slow him down any.” Her gaze stayed on the opened gate to Hawk’s left as cowboys prodded the steer inside the pen. The gate slammed shut, and the beast sauntered into the pen.

Sophie lost her breath.