Page 78 of Wrangled Up

The silver in the stable was doing the trick.

Chapter Eleven

A rivulet of sweat ran between Christian’s shoulder blades and all the way to the waist of his jeans. The sun ground him and Tucker into the Wyoming dust. Indian summer had returned with a vengeance, and Christian was half surprised this morning not to have received a call from the road crew. On good days, they scrambled the team to eke out another day of work.

He had, however, received a phone call for a side job to be completed over the weekend. That meant some cash flow, which was always good. Especially since he’d invested in the shipment of horse feed while Tucker was away. He’d never accepted the cashier’s check and had no need for it now. His personal bank account was in the black and he wouldn’t need much to sustain himself.

Christian jammed the point of the shovel he was using into the earth and peeled off his T-shirt. They’d already dug five post holes for new fencing, but they had a sight more to go, by his estimate.

“Gettin’ hot.” The rasp in Tucker’s voice made Christian look up. His lover’s gaze was locked on Christian’s torso. A jolt of awareness ran through him.

“Yeah. Could use more of that teasy wind.” In these parts, it wasn’t unusual for a cold breeze to blow, which dropped the temperature considerably. Unfortunately, today the breeze wasn’t showing its fickle face.

Christian went back to digging holes. The silence between them was companionable. Working together toward a common goal besides making Claire scream in release felt good.

“When are those alpacas showing up?”

Tucker had gone to auction the previous day and bought fifteen new alpacas to keep Boom Boom company.

“Tomorrow at noon. Claire’s inside whipping up booties for them now.” Tucker caught Christian’s eye, and they shared a grin.

“Why’d you buy them again?” Christian swiped a gloved finger over a bead of sweat on his brow.

“I don’t know. Price was right. Felt like it. Claire’s going to take care of them. One of them is for my cousin. I promised her.” Tucker kept his gaze trained on the hole he’d just dug deep enough to fit a post.

“Claire agreed to stay here and be alpaca mistress? That’s surprising.” Christian snorted in a way that punctuated his sarcasm, but Tucker detected a hint of worry.

“She’s thinking about it. I want you to stay too.”

Christian glanced at him. “That so?”

“Yeah, I could use the help, and you’ve more than proved yourself.”

“And you wouldn’t possibly want me to stay for other reasons.”

Tucker grinned, sweat zigzagging down his jaw. “Plenty of other reasons.”

Smiling, Christian hoisted one of the heavy steel posts, carried it to the hole and dropped it in. Tucker immediately started shoveling dirt around it. When it stood upright on its own,Christian employed his shovel to tamp down the soil.

“Six down. Thirty to go.”

“Then we’ve gotta check on that lame horse again.”

Yesterday Tucker had informed him that Dale had appeared to hassle him some more about the papers and had left on a word about an injured horse.

The second injured horse on the ranch since Christian had gotten involved. He didn’t know a lot about the ranching business, but it seemed fishy to him.

“So you think Dale did something to that horse?”

Tucker jerked. From under his hat, he eyed Christian for a long minute. Shock spread over his features.

“What?” Christian asked. “You didn’t think of it?”

“No. Jesus,no. My family is capable of doing a lot, but hurting animals on purpose?” Tucker chopped at the ground, creating deep slices like macabre smiles. Finally, he looked up at Christian again, a muscle jumping in thecrease of his jaw. “You think this could be the case?”

“It’s possible. And Claire thinks he’s capable. Your family’s been here before on four-wheelers with shovels on the backs.”

“Shit, you talked to Claire about this?”

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