Cowboy Outcasts Page 2

  Carrie set her drink down, the moisture on the cup reminding Hailey that today was supposed to reach record highs.

  “What do you need?”

  “I need the address to the O’Shea Ranch. Not for anything bad,” she assured. “I just wanted to talk with the owner about work.”

  The woman shook her head, a concerned frown on her face. “You don’t want to do that. Haven’t you ever heard of the O’Sheas? They’re nothing but trouble, I tell you. Those boys are a menace, only looking to pick a fight.”

  “They posted about a hog problem.”

  “Well, be smart and let them worry about it. Arden hasn’t even been into town in ages. Rumor has it he’s a no-good, drunken drifter now. And Callum…Good Lord, you want nothing to do with that animal.”

  After listening to more of her complaints, Carrie mentioned they lived just past the bridge off the east side of town. Hailey stored the information to memory, finished her iced tea, and then made her way to the O’Shea Ranch without a second thought.

  Her truck droned loudly, scaring away flocks of blackbirds in the fields as she past. Although she’d taken her bachelor’s degree in the city, she’d spent the past four years at the university—two studying and two working for less than minimum wage. In all that time, she rarely ventured off the grounds. There was mostly farmland beyond the campus, nothing to see, and everything worthwhile too far to drive to.

  The O’Shea Ranch was the only house within miles, so she knew she had the right one. The house itself looked unkempt. If it weren’t for the clothes on the line, she’d assume it was abandoned. Grass grew tall around the house, weeds reclaiming the walkway. A measure of foreboding entered her heart as she stepped out of her truck. The waitress’s words played in her head, making her wonder if it was a mistake coming here at all.

  “Hello?” She walked around the side of the house, carefully watching her step. The screen door was slapping against the frame, the main door open. She bent down and peered inside before knocking. Beyond the entrance was a country-sized kitchen with a heavy oak table. She expected a disaster after viewing the property, but there were only a few dirty dishes on the counter. It was all very basic, lacking a woman’s touch.

  The sound of a rifle being cocked made her gasp. She nearly toppled over but found her balance at the last second. “Trespassing?”

  “I–I called…yesterday…about the hogs. Are you Mr. O’Shea?”

  The cowboy was not what she expected. He towered over her 5’3” frame, all sinewy golden muscle. His Wranglers were too low on his hips to be holy, his chest bare and sweat-glistened. After resting the barrel of the rifle on his shoulder, he tilted his black Stetson back. “You’re the student?”

  “Scientist.” She felt completely intimidated.

  “You’re lucky you weren’t shot. We don’t take kindly to intruders around these parts. There hasn’t been anyone brave enough to cross my property line in too many years to count.” His voice was deep and gravely, his eyes narrowed in distrust.

  “I just wanted to talk. I meant nothing disrespectful.” Surely he had some decency. She couldn’t imagine any man being as callous and crude as Cassie had described.

  He started to walk away from her, towards the large century barn. He spoke without turning around. “I thought I made myself clear on the phone. I haven’t the time or money to have you underfoot. I’ll kill the hogs with my traps and be done with it.”

  “You can’t do that!” She ran up ahead of him and walked backwards so he’d have to face her. “Killing isn’t the answer, Mr. O’Shea. There are better, more humane ways of handling the problem.”

  “Your ways take too long, little girl.” He brushed past her. His accent was slight but undeniable. She’d always been a sucker for an Irishman.

  “There’s no harm in trying. I won’t be a bother,” she said, trying to keep up with his long strides.

  He reached the bay doors of the barn and disappeared into the first stall. As he backed out a chestnut quarter horse, he continued to talk. “And I suppose I’ll be expected to feed you as well?”

  The cowboy stroked the horse’s neck lovingly, a look of concern on his face.

  “I promise, I don’t eat much.”

  He continued to examine the horse. “I knew there’d be a catch,” he said, moving to the other side of the animal. “There always is.”

  “Is there a problem with him?”

  He glanced over at her briefly. “He’s recovering from Choke. Third time it’s happened.”

  “Have you tried putting oversized rocks in his food trough? It’ll force him to eat slower.”

  He smacked the horse on the rump, sending it through the open gate towards the grazing pasture. “How you know so much? You don’t look like any cowgirl I’ve ever seen.”

  “I’m not. But I’ve learned a thing or two along the way. I did a year on equine studies,” she said. “And by the way, I’m not a little girl. I’m twenty-sex.”

  “Are you now?” His interest suddenly piqued. He cocked an eyebrow and ran a hand along the stubble on his jawline.

  Hailey blushed, realizing her Freudian slip. “Twenty-six. I meant, twenty-six.”

  “I suppose you could stay in my brother’s room. I doubt he’ll be back.”

  “Do you live alone here?”

  “I do.”

  She glanced around the landscape, wondering how one man could maintain so much acreage. Why was he alone? He certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes—or any of the senses. The man even smelled good, a mix of leather, horses, and clean sweat. As she discreetly took in every hard ridge of muscle, she realized that eight years had passed since she started her first year of secondary education. In all that time she’d never dated, never thought about a future beyond her career. It took only a few minutes alone with Mr. O’Shea for her body to respond, reminding her she was a woman, not just a scientist.

  She realized they hadn’t introduced each other properly. Calling him Mr. O’Shea her entire stay would be a bit much. “My name’s Hailey Watson, by the way.” She held out her hand.

  “Callum.” After a brief shake of the hands, he closed the gate and walked back in the direction of the house. “You should get a new muffler for your truck.”

  “I would if I could afford one.”

  “Aren’t scientists supposed to be rich?”

  “Apparently not my branch. If I were in this for the money, I would have called it quits years ago.”

  “Makes no sense to me,” he muttered as he entered the side door to the kitchen. She wasn’t sure if she was expected to follow him in or wait outside, so she stopped at the threshold.

  “Ms. Watson, you gonna stand there all day?”

  She quickly opened the screen and entered, feeling out of her depth. “Please call me Hailey. My professors all call me Ms. Watson, and it makes me cringe when I hear it.”

  “It’s your name, no?”

  “We may as well be on first name basis. I won’t be able to solve the hog problem overnight.”

  “Hailey.” He said the word slowly, enunciating every syllable with his Irish tongue. The sound traveled through her body like a charge of electricity. The way he made her feel staggered her. “We have this name back home, too. It means hay meadow, just like the one to the west of the house.”

  “That’s not very romantic,” she said.

  “You haven’t seen the field as the sun rises or sets. You’ll change your mind after that.” After he spoke, he set his cowboy hat on a hook and then ran a hand through his thick, dark hair. He rarely made eye contact, which she found odd. His eyes were as dark as onyx and she wondered what was hidden in their depths. There must be more to this man than rumors and an empty house.

  She tentatively walked around the kitchen and then entered the living room. There was a massive stone fireplace, an oak grandfather clock, and a few pieces of mismatched furniture. The old recliner was positioned right in front of the hearth, and she couldn’t help but pictur
e Callum spending long, lonely nights in that chair. It wasn’t natural for humans to live alone, just as it wasn’t natural for most animals.

  He certainly didn’t sit around and mope too much because his body carried no extra fat, just solid, lean muscle. When she glanced behind her, he was standing still in the entryway of the room, his arms crossed over his bare chest. He watched her in silence, like a predator studying its prey before the takedown. Was she in danger being alone here with him? Carrie had warned her. Would she regret not taking the advice she assumed was gossip? Hailey commended herself for having an open mind. It was the only way to tackle science or life in general. She liked to make decisions based on facts and personal experience, not hearsay and gossip.

  So far she didn’t know what to make of the dark-haired Adonis. He was rough around the edges, curt, and antisocial. But he’d agreed to give her the opportunity to work his ranch knowing he’d have to provide food and shelter. That was a big bonus point in her books, so they were off to a decent start.

  “It’s a big house for one person,” she said after walking the perimeter of the room. There was a staircase heading to the upper level and a hallway leading to another area of the main floor.

  “My brother only left last year, but I still wouldn’t sell it for all the money in the world.” There was an inflection of defensiveness in his tone. He continually blinked his eyes and she wondered what it meant.

  “I think that’s admirable.”

  He cocked his head to the side. After studying her for a moment, he waved for her to follow him. “Come. I’ll show you your room.”

  The stairs were creaky, testimony to the house’s age. She had no fairy tale memories of childhood—creaky steps, nights by the fire…love. Callum, however quiet, seemed to be holding onto a great legacy, memories worth cherishing. She envied him for that. Her family was sterile and materialistic, both qualities she loathed.

  He had to kick the bottom of the warped door for it to open. “I haven’t been in here in months,” he said. “No need.”

  She walked past him and looked around. The bed was made in a patchwork quilt. Everything was preserved as if he either expected his brother to return or didn’t have the time to pack everything up. There were photos on the wall, cologne bottles on the dresser, and trophies lining a tall wooden shelf.

  “What are these for?” She ran a finger along the thick dust covering one of the trophies.

  “Rodeo riding. I suspect that’s what he’s doing now, but I wouldn’t know.”

  “Is he older than you?” she asked.

  When he didn’t answer after a few moments, she turned around to gauge his reaction. He looked tense, his facial muscles twitching and jaw clenched. Had she said something wrong? His brother must be a sensitive topic.

  “Three years older,” he finally said. He turned his back to her. “Washroom is at the end of the hall. My room is next to it if you need anything.” Then he took off without another word. At least there wouldn’t be any funny business going on. The man appeared to be repulsed by her. She was a problem he barely tolerated. Once the hog invasion was remedied, she was sure she’d get a swift kick in the ass off the property.

  It shouldn’t matter one way or another. She was at the O’Shea Ranch for a purpose—to continue her research and make it through another day. But there was something dark and alluring about the Irish cowboy that pulled her in. She wanted to get into his head, like her animal subjects, and learn everything there was to know about him besides the fact he had a nice ass.

  It felt like butterflies fluttered in her stomach, awakening her dormant sexuality. Now the challenge would be ignoring her human nature, which suddenly reared its ugly head. Science was so much easier without unexpected variables.

  Chapter Three

  Callum managed to avoid the girl the rest of the day and evening. As the sun set he returned from the fields, exhausted and hungry. He wasn’t used to having another person to care for. He’d have to get used to the responsibility while she was there. With little daylight left, he’d have to settle for barbequing up some of his frozen chickens as fresh would take too long to prepare.

  He hoped he’d be able to control himself around her this round. His Tourette’s seemed to run rampant when he was in close proximity to the little blonde. Why? He had nothing to prove and certainly wasn’t attracted to her. She’d likely turn out like all the others—disgusted by him given enough time. But she offered a free service which he wasn’t in a position to refuse. He blamed his nerves on his solitary lifestyle. He just wasn’t used to having someone else around.

  When he entered the kitchen, the lights were off. He needed to start a fire inside to stave off the evening chill, and one out back to prepare the food.

  “Hailey?” Had she gone to sleep already? Guilt began to well inside him. The girl was already too thin in his opinion, and now he was starving her.

  After no response, he ran up the stairs and checked all the rooms. Where the fuck was she? Her truck was still parked in the lot, an unpleasant eyesore. He knew he’d end up playing babysitter.

  “Hailey?”

  He grabbed his padded jacket from the coat tree and headed to the barn. There were acres of wheat and hay fields around the house, so he’d be sure to find her if he patrolled the area on horseback. The forests were a distant line on the horizon, too far for her to venture, and the breeding ground for those damn hogs.

  Callum cantered around the area for nearly half an hour with no sign of the girl. He was about to turn back when he heard a remote scream. It came from the forest, now shrouded in night.

  He jabbed the heels of his boots against the horse’s sides and galloped through the blackness. The sense of urgency made his heart race, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Wind rushed through his hair, burning his eyes. He strained to see with only the gentle cast of moonlight. The soft glow highlighted the waves of wheat that surrounded him like a golden ocean.

  As soon as he reached the treeline, he dismounted before bringing the horse to a full stop. “Hailey!”

  “Callum!”

  He pulled his rifle off the side of his saddle and ran blind towards her voice. Her whimpers spurred him on, helping him find her with increased ease. She was bunkered down behind some unruly briars. The yellow, glowing eyes of an oversized hog were the source of her distress. It was an unruly beast, choosing to attack rather than retreat. Its feral growl warned Callum to stay back.

  It was too dark to aim his rifle with certainty. He dropped it to the ground, pulled a blade from his boot and charged forward with a roar of his own. The hog was powerful with lethal tusks attempting to rip him to shreds. Unfortunately for the hog, this wasn’t his first wrestling match. They struggled, rolling about on the forest floor. The roots and briars scraped his exposed face and jabbed him in the ribs. They danced until Callum found the moment to strike, driving the sharpened blade into the animal’s throat, slicing wide. It took a few moments for the wild boar to finally settle, its life ebbing away.

  He lay there on his back with the moonlight filtering down through the forest canopy, his breathing rapid and heavy. As soon as his wits returned, he shoved the dead weight off him, stood, and went to collect the girl. He snagged her wrist, yanking her out of the brushwood and pulling her along behind him. Without a word, he hoisted her up onto his horse, grabbed his gun, and mounted behind her.

  The ride back across the fields was uneasily quiet. Only the rhythmic beat of the horse’s hooves and Hailey’s occasional sob could be heard.

  Once back home, he helped her dismount and immediately brought the gelding to the barn for unsaddling. He hated pushing his horses this late at night, and he blamed Ms. Watson and her foolhardy expedition.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. He didn’t realize she was behind him in the barn.

  “You should get inside before you catch a chill.” If he dealt with her now, he’d regret it…or at least she would. His mother had always told him to take a walk o
r go for a ride before addressing the object of his irritation. Speaking from a right mind didn’t land a man in boiling water nearly as often as acting out of passion. His father and brother never understood that concept, giving the O’Shea men a bad reputation.

  “It’s just that you were gone, so I thought I’d start my research. I didn’t expect the sun to set so fast. Then—”

  “You’re lucky you weren’t killed! Those hogs could have gored you to death. And I could barely find you in the darkness. Foolish all around.”

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “And thank you for saving me.”

  After reluctantly putting his horse away wet, he closed the bay doors and marched back to the house. Little Ms. Watson could be sorry all she wanted, but the woman was already proving to be more trouble than she was worth.

  “I’ll cook some chicken for you,” he said as he walked.

  “That’s okay. It’s late, don’t bother.”

  “I said I’d feed you. Regardless of your little stunt, I won’t have you go hungry.”

  “I don’t eat meat…or chicken.”

  He stopped dead in his tracks, only a few feet from the door. “How do you expect to live? All I cook is meat. This ain’t some fancy vegetarian buffet.”

  “I’m not trying to be difficult.”

  Callum flicked on the lights after they entered the house. The first thing he noted, when he could see with perfect clarity, were the scrapes on Hailey’s knees. Any cowgirl in her right mind would have worn Wranglers out on the fields, not little cotton shorts. He didn’t know what to make of her. She lived in the tiny town but knew little about country living—besides her book learning.

  “Sit down,” he said, leaving no room for argument.

  She complied, lowering into one of the wooden chairs. There used to be a family member occupying each of the hardwood seats. Now it was just him.

  “I’m okay,” she said, wincing when he attempted to touch the bloody scrapes.

  He shook his head and went to collect the medical kit from above the fridge.