Page 1 of Wilder Heart

CHAPTER 1

CASH

It wasn’t often that Cash was called into the boss’s office in the middle of the day, but he would soon learn that today was a day for new experiences. His cell phone didn’t have much reception out in the fields of Blackwood Ranch, but as he rode his horse, Hexie, back toward civilization, it eventually picked up a signal, vibrating in his breast pocket as he came down the hill toward the big white horse barn. He took his time, taking one last breath of the fresh air.

The blue sky seemed to carry on for eternity, and the rolling Montana hills looked like a stretching cat, rising to meet it. The summer season was half over, which meant it was time to start looking toward winter. The other ranch hands would be running the combines in the corn and legume fields soon to harvest the winter feed. Toward the end of the summer, they would move the cattle to a closer field. It was better to keep them closer to home when the unpredictable winter weather hit.

He left Hexie in the hands of a capable groom and dug his phone from his pocket, lifting his straw hat off his head to wipe away the sweat that had gathered under the brim on his forehead.

Lain

Come to my office when you get back. Need to discuss something.

Cash hummed. It was unusual, but it could be any number of things. He pocketed his phone and headed for the farmhouse. The house itself wasn’t that big, with two stories and a front porch that the boss’s wife, Mary-Beth, kept immaculately clean. The boss’s office was in a smaller, older barn beside the house. It was the very first barn built on the property, according to Lain. Bit by bit, as the ranch found success, Lain and Mary-Beth added on. Now there were barns dotted all over the ten thousand acre ranch. Barns for the livestock, the horses, the tractors, the equipment. A bunkhouse for the ranch hands, which they’d been steadily hiring for the last eight years since Lain incidentally became the sole owner of Blackwood Ranch. He’d been incredibly young when he inherited everything.

Apparently it was a huge scandal when it happened. Cash tried not to pay much attention to gossip, but small towns like Roselake thrived on it. Lain had a brother, and their dad had been some kind of worthless drunk. They got into it one night, and the next thing anyone knew, Alan Blackwood was dead, and Lain’s brother was being carted off to prison for murder. Curiosity had damn near killed Cash after he heard about it, but he’d never had the heart to bring it up to Lain, who was fairly drowning in responsibility when they met almost a year later. And it never felt right to pry about something that was obviously a sore subject. Cash was there to do a job, and if Lain didn’t want to share, that was fine by him.

Cash had been his first hire, in fact. Seven years ago, Cash was a twenty-five-year-old nomad, traveling from ranch to ranch and living out of a camper—which was parked behind thebunkhouse now, gathering dust. He’d seen the ad online for help at Blackwood Ranch, and something about the wording of it had made him reach out. The owner sounded desperate. As it turned out, the owner was an eighteen-year-old kid who was in over his head and about to lose the place if he didn’t find a way to turn a profit. Cash had agreed to help for one year in exchange for a permanent spot to park his camper. That first year was rough, but at the end of the season, Blackwood Ranch was in the black for the very first time—barely. The second year was a little easier, and now, six years later, Lain was in talks with some local property owners to expand yet again.

When he reached the old barn, which was mostly bare on the inside but for some old ranch memorabilia hanging on the walls, he knocked on Lain’s office door.

“Cash, yeah, come in,” Lain said. He was seated at his desk, his chestnut brown hair mussed as though he’d been running his fingers through it. He sat back in his seat, which squeaked, and passed a hand over his face. “I’ve got a, uh… thing to talk to you about.”

“A thing,” Cash repeated.

“Yeah.” He gestured to one of the leather chairs across from him. “Sit, please. This’ll take some explaining.”

Cash sat, nonplussed, taking his hat off and resting it on his knee. “What’s up?”

Stormy, blue-gray eyes met his. Lain pursed his lips for a long moment, and then said, “You know I have a brother, right?”

Yes, that definitely rang a bell, but he didn’t want to outright admit the people of Roselake still gossiped about the Blackwoods’ history. “I think I recall something about that, yeah.”

“He’s… He’s coming here.”

Cash had a feeling that wasn’t a good thing. Lain looked like he’d rather piss glass than be having this conversation. “Okay,” he said slowly. “I take it that’s bad.”

“Have you ever heard about what happened to him—us?”

Moment of truth. Cash grimaced. “I try not to pay attention to gossip, boss, you know that, but yeah. I’ve heard a little. I’d be interested to hear the truth from you, if that’s where this is headed.”

Lain smiled, mirth competing with the tension lining his face. “Okay, fine. The reason I inherited this place at eighteen was because my dad died, right?”

“Yes, I do remember that.”

“My brother—mytwinbrother, Wilder—killed him.” He winced.

Cash’s thoughts ground to a halt at that. For once, the rumors were true. They’d always failed to include that Lain and his brother weretwins, though. That was new information. He blinked, silently absorbing it all, and to Lain’s credit, he sat back, steepling his hands in front of his mouth and giving Cash time to process.

“I take it he’s been in prison, then,” Cash guessed.

Lain chuckled, another bitter sound that lacked humor. “Yes. He’s getting out for good behavior.”

“Why in the hell is he coming here? What…” Cash stopped, shaking his head. He didn’t know how to finish that last one. What the hell was Lain thinking, letting him? What the hell were they supposed to do with amurdereron the ranch? What could they do to keep him away, if anything? “Why is he coming here? Why are you letting him? Does he want to split ownership of the ranch?”

“No. He wants to work. He’s on parole for two years, the last of his original ten year sentence. He needed a job for when he gets out, so he called me and asked if he could work as a hand.Apparently he’s looked the ranch up over the years and kept an eye on… things. Me, I don’t know.”

“Why? What? I…” Cash stopped again. “I’m sorry.” He laughed. “This has really thrown me for a loop, boss.” He probably should have considered the possibility that the brother would one day return home, but Lain never mentioned him over the last seven years. Cash had always considered the mysterious, estranged brother a nonentity.

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