Page 19 of Keeping His Brat

He really just wanted to go home and have a big bowl of soup, a hot shower, and then to fall face down in the bed. But the feed order had to go in that day, or it would be delayed a week. He also needed to send in the payroll numbers so the men got their money on time.

Headache and fever weren’t really conducive to either of those jobs. It didn’t help that several times he was interrupted by a knock at the door. Hands with one question or another always seemed to appear just when he needed to concentrate. He started sending them off to find Mike or Ben for orders, but it still took time for his foggy brain to remember what he was doing each time.

He finally got the order in, though he was pretty sure he’d gotten the numbers wrong. He thought about going back through again but decided to just leave it. He’d ordered more than they needed, not less, so it would even out eventually.

Payroll was another matter. His eyes hurt. Well, everything hurt, but his eyes and head were the worst which meant staring at the laptop screen was painful. He decided to put his head down on his desk and close his eyes for a few minutes before he started.

A few minutes turned out to be longer than he’d planned. He didn’t realize it at first. Time was blurring and he thought it had only been a short while. He felt slightly better and went ahead with getting the numbers in. It probably took a lot longer than the usual hour because he had to keep checking things, but eventually he was done.

It wasn’t until he headed out into the barn that he realized he’d been in there significantly longer than he’d realized. The overheads were off, leaving only the nightlight runners on, and everyone was gone.

Far from leaving early, he had managed to end up staying even later than usual. He didn’t know exactly how late it was. When he went to check his phone for the time he remembered, of course, that it was waterlogged and dead. That set off a round of loud cursing. The horses stirred uneasily in their stalls, and he cut the volume down to a snarl.

Unfortunately, the low grumbling irritated his lungs and he ended up leaning against a gate as his body was wracked with an intense coughing fit that seemed to go on and on. When he managed to catch his breath, he was too weak to bother with anymore swearing.

Or so he thought.

Devil had been relocated until his own stall could be fixed. No one wanted to risk damaging valuable horse flesh with a splintered wall. In the midst of hacking up a lung Sam hadn’t really paid attention to where he was leaning. He hadn’t noticed that he was positioning himself in front of Devil’s new home. The horse noticed though, and with a malicious sparkle in his eye he’d sidled over until Sam was within range.

The cowboy straightened, drew in a careful breath and prepared to drag his tired ass home, but as he went to move away from the gate … Devil struck. The horse snatched up a mouthful of hair and gave it a good hard yank. Unprepared, Sam’s feet almost left the ground from the strength of the pull. He lost his footing and landed on his ass.

The horse wasn’t stupid and quickly moved back, a large black shadow in the dim stall. He whinnied with amusement as Sam glared from the floor. “Keep it up, horse. Just keep it up and see where you end up. I’ll send your ass to the glue factory.”

It was an idle threat but, in that moment, Sam would have gleefully signed the papers. He reached up to feel his head, wincing. His hair seemed to be more or less intact though it felt like he’d lost a chunk of his scalp. He added it to the list of other things that were paining him, and that included his ass where he’d landed on it.

“You’re more trouble than you’re worth,” he grumbled as he slowly got to his feet. He made sure to keep his distance while he did it.

The damned stallion had caused more trouble than any other horse he’d ever brought onto the spread, and he was about sick of it. At this point he was tempted to take a big loss and just sell him off as is, but he had to admit that was mostly his anger. Progress had been made, slowly, but spirit and intelligence weren’t bad things if they could be tempered. He could be a champion if he’d just behave.

Devil needed taming and unlike Charlie it wasn’t a simple matter of filling some needs. He needed to be retrained. It had been one more thing Sam hadn’t had time to do, but at least the hand he’d passed the chore onto seemed to be making some strides. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to deal with you.”

The horse whickered, sounding no less amused than before. He knew a bluff when he heard one and Sam scowled. It was then that he realized he was about to start an argument … with a horse. He sighed and rubbed at the sore spot on his head and then he left feeling like an idiot.

The short walk to the cabin seemed to take forever, and even with the row of lights that lit the way, he kept stumbling over things. He was too tired to lift his feet up high enough to avoid even the smallest rocks. Finally seeing the homey glow shining out from the kitchen window in the distance was a welcome relief.

And the tempting aroma of the soup Charlie had been simmering all day was enough to make his stomach growl before he even opened the door. He didn’t even remember to clean off his boots, he was in too much of a hurry to get inside.

Shortly he was settled on the couch with a mug of hot soup that somehow made everything feel better. He was having trouble staying awake and he kept blurring in and out until eventually Charlie took a bossy tone and sent him to bed. He wanted to give her a look that would remind her who was in charge, but frankly bed sounded like an amazing idea, and he just staggered off without complaint.

He sprawled face down, sideways across the bed with a groan. It did occur to him that he should get up and get undressed, or at least kick off his boots. There was just no energy to even make the attempt. Sleep came so fast he wasn’t aware when it happened. One moment he was thinking about how much he hurt, and the next he was out.

At some point he remembered Charlie struggling to get his boots off, and he tried to help her, but he was too out of it to do much. He appreciated her loving care as she nudged and pushed until he moved enough that she could pull the blankets out from underneath and cover him up. He must have been shivering because he remembered her grabbing the blanket from the living room to add on top.

Next thing he knew it was hours later and the sheets were soaked from sweat. He flailed around, shoving the blankets off and vaguely remembered Charlie trying to help him.

“The fever broke, I think.” She sounded worried.

“I’m not a witch,” he assured her.

“What?”

“Not melting.” It made sense in his head, but she didn’t seem to get the connection.

She sighed. “You’re a wreck. Poor sick Daddy.”

He felt a cool hand caress his forehead. It felt nice, soothing. “I feel like I’ve been walked over and stomped flat by that damn demon horse.”

She laughed softly. “Sounds like he tried anyway. I should change the sheets, so you don’t get a chill. How do you feel about a hot bath?”

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