Page 2 of The Wrong Ride Home

I thought he’d send us away when Duke discovered who my mother was—what she meant to his father, who was then still, for all legal purposes, married to Duke’smother. But Gloria hadn’t been at Wilder Ranch or with her husband for years. She refused to divorce Nash. She’d never allow him to legitimize his relationship with my mother. Did it hurt Mama? Yes, it did. Did Nash care? No, I don’t think he did. He wanted to keep Duke happy—and he knew that if he ever divorced Gloria and married my mother, he’d lose his son for good. Even though we all understood he already had, and it had nothing to do with me but with Duke, Nash, Gloria, and Mama.

I never asked Mama to leave Wilder Ranch, even though I desperately wanted to run away. I didn’t because I knew she wouldn’t. Mama loved Nash something fierce. She loved him more than she loved me. I knew that. I loved her more than she loved me. I accepted that.

They say love is war, and I had just been a casualty.

I couldn’t leave her, so I stayed.

When she passed, I thought I was finally free—except for the promise she made me give her. But now, all my debts had been paid. Nash was gone, and I knew he’d be buried next to Mama—just as he’d instructed Hunt and me. An empty coffin would be placed in the Wilder family plot at the cemetery, his final and only way of telling Mama that, in the end, he had loved her more than anything or anyone in this world.

Duke walked up to Hunt, and they shook hands.

“This is Fiona Turner, my girlfriend,” he introduced Hunt to her, ignoring that I stood next to him. “Darlin’, this is Hunt Blackwood. He’s the ranch foreman.”

Fiona extended her perfectly manicured hand and shook Hunt’s.

“Ma’am.” Hunt tipped his head politely.

“And who is this? An honest-to-God cowgirl?” Fiona tittered.

“I’m Elena Rivera.”

She didn’t extend her hand to me, and I didn’t mind. My hands were dirty. I’d been in the stable when Hunt dragged me out.

“Elena.” Duke nodded at me without looking at me, withoutseeingme.

“Duke.” I was saying his name to him, and I felt everything inside me glow. What a pathetic fool I was that just this tinyreprieve he’d given me in a decade, to stand in front of him and say his name made me feel good.

It was like Mama used to say, ‘Beggars, mija, can’t be choosers.’

“I’m surprised you’re still here,” he said casually.

I didn’t respond.

“Elena is our horse trainer,” Hunt explained, falling in step with Duke and Fiona, leading them away from me. I waited, stood without moving until he met everyone, and went into the ranch house.

Whew! Well, that went as well as it could!

“The boss doesn’t like you,” Sawyer, a kid, who thought he was God’s gift because he was six foot two and couldn’t understand why wrinkled and old me at the age of twenty-eight didn’t give him the time of day. He’d asked me more than once if I’d like to ride his cockinstead of a horse. I didn’t dignify his bullshit with a response.

He wasn’t the only one who tried to get with me.

I was a woman in a man’s world—and not just a man, butthesemen who were rough and raw and believed a woman’s place was under them or in the kitchen, preferably barefoot and pregnant.

But most of the cowboys I worked with now had come to terms with my presence on the ranch and respected me. I was good with horses. I wasdamngood with horses. Everyone knew I stayed because of Nash, to take care of him, and not because I had to. I had job offers from all the big ranches from Colorado to California.

Like always, I didn’t respond to Sawyer and began to walk back toward the stable.

“Come on, Elena, what did you do? Try to fuck him?”

He must’ve seen something flash in my eyes because he snickered. “You thought you could compete with that hot stuff he’s got on his arm?”

I smiled easily at Sawyer, covering everything I felt. Hiding had become second nature—I was an expert at it. The only time I ever felt like myself was with my horses. Even Hunt didn’t see the whole me. He got a version more honest than what I showed most people, but still carefully guarded.

I was like a skittish filly, always keeping my distance, never trusting anyone to stand by me when it really mattered—not even Hunt, not if push came to shove. My own mother hadn’t been on my side—so why wouldanyone else? That wasn’t cynicism. That was just plain practicality.

"Sawyer, you need to ride to the south end of the pasture and check the fence line—Hunt told you that this morning. If there’s a break, fix it. If not, move the cattle back toward the creek before the heat sets in. And quit wastin’ time."

Sawyer didn’t like getting orders from me, but he did just like everyone else. I was the horse trainer, and that meant I brought a shit ton of money into Wilder Ranch. I was also Hunt’s right hand, which meant I managed a lot of the work done on the ranch, which included telling the cowboys what to do.

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