Shared By the Cowboys by Cassie Cole

25

Rebecca

Blake was definitely throwing a wrench into our fun. Just when I thought I had some alone time with both Cody and Mason, he jumped in the middle like a chaperone at prom.

Which was too bad, because the glances his brothers were giving me suggested they had something very fun in mind for me.

Have they ever had a threesome?

The thought had occurred to me ever since they mentioned their former marriage. Did they take turns with her every night, patiently respecting each other’s boundaries? Or did they take her into the bedroom at the same time, two pairs of hands exploring her body, two lips kissing up and down her chest…

I shivered at the erotic thought. I had never had a threesome before. I had never even fantasized about it—whenever I pictured another man in bed with me, he was alone. But the way Cody and Mason had devoured me with their eyes, shooting glances at each other like they were planning something…

I was too distracted by the thought to get any writing done that night.

By the next morning, the rain had stopped. The chickens were happy to be let out of their coop, and they eagerly wandered around their yard to gobble up the earthworms that had surfaced from all the rain. When I collected their eggs and walked back toward the house, I found Mason and Cody climbing into the truck.

“Need to head into town and file some property tax info for the solar panels,” Mason explained. “Need anything from the store while we’re there?”

“I could go for some ice cream,” I replied. “As long as you don’t let it melt in the truck.”

Mason’s face went taut as he glared at me. “As long as Wildfire’s not running loose when we get back.”

“I promise he won’t be!”

He grinned. “We’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Wait,” I said. “I was wondering, is it okay if I go for a ride today? On one of the other horses, not Wildfire.”

“Be my guest. Check on the herd while you’re out there—I didn’t get a chance to make the rounds this morning. Watch for wolves—they come down out of the mountains to hunt after storms.”

I hesitated. “Should I be worried?”

Mason tucked his thumbs into his belt. “Nah. They know to stay clear of humans. If they see you on horseback, they’ll flee.”

Cody stuck his head out the passenger window. “Take Beans! He’s always itching for a ride after a storm.”

I changed clothes and then went into the stable to saddle Beans. I heard a thumping sound on the roof of the stable as I did so, and when I led him out into the yard I saw a ladder propped up against the stable. Blake was on the roof, hammering away at something.

“Making a lot of noise up there,” I said.

He peered over the edge, saw it was me, and then shook his head. “Stable’s still leaky.”

Blake didn’t say anything else, so I mounted up and rode off the property. I guided Beans toward the river, then we followed it south. The water was rushing wildly, full of rainwater draining down from the surrounding hills and mountains. I even saw a few rapids where the river narrowed, with white foam rushing over huge stones.

Not the calm, swimmable river I saw when I arrived.

The ground was soft after the rain, and Beans dug into it eagerly as we trotted along. Once he was warmed up I let loose, allowing him to speed up into a gallop. It was a warm day and I savored the feeling of the wind on my face as we shot over one hill and down another, with nothing around us but open land.

What my agent said on the phone was true: I hated growing up on a ranch. From the moment I was thirteen I counted down the days until I could go off to college in a real city, which was what I thought Missoula was at the time. Since then I had seen everything America had to offer, from the towering skyscrapers of Manhattan to the endless sprawling suburbs of Los Angeles. What I thought was the real world.

But now that I was back on a ranch, I couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. There were parts of this lifestyle that I missed. The calm quiet of the plains. The wonderfully-clean air. The night sky that contained more twinkling stars than grains of sand on a beach, unblocked by light pollution. Being back on a ranch felt good in a way that I had never appreciated as a child.

That was the curse of becoming an adult. You didn’t know how good you had it until it was too late.

Three months, I thought as Beans surged across the valley. I’ll get my fill in the next three months, and by then I’ll want to leave.

I expected to have to cut away from the river at some point to search for the herd, but then I crested a hill and saw them spread out before me. They were clustered against the river, moving toward me. Even above Beans’ thundering hooves I could hear the cattle’s distraught moos.

That’s when I saw it. A large object in the river, black against the whitecaps of the rushing water…

A calf.

“Shit,” I cursed while slowing Beans to a canter, then a trot. By then the calf was clearly visible as it floated down the river toward me, struggling to keep its head above the frigid water and screaming fearfully.

I pulled the walkie-talkie off my hip and squeezed the transmit button. “Help! We’ve got a calf in the river, about a mile past the end of the fence. It’s still swimming, but I don’t know for how much longer…”

I trailed off as I remembered that Mason and Cody weren’t at the ranch. They were in town. Blake was the only one here, and Mason claimed he rarely carried his radio…

“I’m on my way,” came Blake’s response a moment later. I slumped in my saddle, relieved.

“What should I do?”

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing?”

“If you try to help, you’ll drown.”

I watched the calf helplessly. “What if you don’t get here in time?”

His reply was as sharp as a whip-crack: “Don’t fucking do it. Seen more than one dumbass drown trying to save a calf.”

“Okay, but hurry!” I replied.

I followed the calf as it was swept downstream. The rest of the herd was all around me now, following the calf and filling the air with panicked moos. The poor calf was screaming, then it cut off as it was pulled under the surface. Seconds later it reappeared and cried some more. Everything was chaos and fear.

“Help’s coming,” I said. “Just hold on!”

The calf was getting weaker, I could tell. It wasn’t going to make it. Despite what Blake said, I considered dismounting and jumping in. Calves weighed hundreds of pounds, but they were lighter in the water. All I had to do was tug him toward the bank.

I was paralyzed with indecision as I followed it further downstream.

Suddenly a horse appeared on the horizon. Blake rode low over the horse’s neck while galloping toward us at break-neck speed. The herd mooed louder as if they could sense that help was on the way.

Blake slowed to a stop in front of me and immediately leaped from the saddle, landing in the mud next to the river and shouting, “Take Bucket.”

It took me a second to remember that was the horse’s name. I grabbed the reins and asked, “What are you doing?”

“What’s it look like?”

I stared at him in confusion. “But you told me not to! You said I would drown!”

He tossed aside his black cowboy hat. “Yep.”

Then he got a running start and leaped into the river.

I winced as he did so—I didn’t know how shallow it was, or if there were any rocks just beneath the surface. But he seemed fine as he waded out to the middle of the river. He was five yards downstream of the calf, but the current was carrying the animal just outside of his reach. Blake swam and reached as the calf drew close, stretching in the water…

The calf jerked and changed directions as Blake grabbed hold, pulling the animal toward him. For a brief instant I saw his fist clutching the calf’s leg, pulling it, trying to gain control.

But the calf panicked and slapped at the water with his hooves, clawing into Blake’s watery form. All I saw were the white’s of the calf’s eyes as it covered Blake in the water, pushing him under.

The calf continued screaming as it floated downstream, but Blake was nowhere to be seen.

I waited for three long seconds.

“Blake?” I shouted. “BLAKE!”