Shared By the Cowboys by Cassie Cole

36

Rebecca

The cold front swept into the valley and over Cassidy Ranch. For the next week the temperature continued to drop, and every day was colder than the last. Winter had arrived.

The lentils and field peas had finished drying, so we harvested the pods and stored them in mason jars. We had hundreds of jars when we were done, stored in crates in the barn. We could eat lentils for every meal and still not run out until next summer.

Not bad for a few squares of crops, I thought.

Cody showed me how to use an old fashioned screw press to squeeze the juice out of the apples. It was slow work: adding apples to the press, turning the mechanical lever until all the juice was squeezed out, and then removing the mashed remains and adding new apples.

The job took longer because Cody and I took two breaks to fool around in the barn.

When we were done, we had a dozen five-gallon glass jugs full of cider, and hundreds of pounds of mashed remains that we could feed to the horses, chickens, and cattle. Cody added some yeast and sugar to each of the jugs, and then all we had to do was wait for the cider to ferment.

Yet as much fun as we were having, I knew my agent was going to call within a week. And I had no idea what I was going to tell her.

The worst part was that I modified my story to include the part Terry had insisted about: three cowboys sharing one woman.

And damnit, she was right. It was a good story. The words flowed effortlessly from my brain to my fingers on the keyboard. I wrote forty more pages in just three days. If I kept at it, I could finish it before my contract was up.

What am I going to do?

The first snowflakes fell the Saturday before Thanksgiving, while all four of us were riding around the perimeter of the property together. I grinned happily as the heavy flakes drifted down around us and landed on Wildfire’s mane.

The horses reacted enthusiastically to the snow, galloping harder over the rolling hills of the ranch. Blake led the way on Bucket, turning left while the rest of us gave chase, then darting to the right. When the horses had been properly worked, Blake slowed to a walk and let the rest of us catch up to him.

“Wildfire would be faster if I really allowed him to let loose,” I said. “I can feel it in him, the urge to lead rather than follow.”

“Next time you can be the one we chase,” Blake replied.

I hopped off the horse and watched the snow. It had immediately stuck to the ground and was rapidly collecting on the prairie grass. The grey clouds hung low in the sky, obscuring my view of the distant mountains.

Suddenly something hard and cold and wet SMACKED me in the cheek. I whirled and saw Cody leaning forward, the ending motion of a baseball throw.

“Nailed her!” he said.

Mason, who was standing next to him holding the reins of both horses, grimaced. “You were right. I owe you five bucks.”

“You don’t know what you’ve started,” I warned.

Cody spread his arms wide and gave me his best smile. “I’ll start anything with you, Becca.”

I bent down and scooped up a snowball in my gloved hands, packing it tight until it was the size of a Valencia orange. Then I pulled back my arm and hurled it across the short distance.

Cody casually leaned to the side, dodging the snowball.

Blake barked a laugh behind me.

“Fine, be that way,” I said.

“Better mount up and head back,” Mason said. “Horses are well-lathered. Don’t want them to catch cold.”

They mounted up, but I had other ideas. I removed my cowboy hat and filled it with hastily-made snowballs. Then I mounted Wildfire and kicked him into a trot.

“Try to dodge this,” I shouted.

On the horse, it was tougher for Cody to avoid the snowball. He tried to lean backward but he was too late, and the snowball caught him across the jaw.

“Ow!”

Blake barked another laugh. I spun Wildfire around in his direction and retrieved another snowball from the cowboy hat in front of the pommel.

“Shit,” he cursed when he realized what I was doing. He flicked his reins and shouted at his horse, urging him into a trot, then a cantor.

The men shouted and laughed and hurled playful insults at me while I chased them back to the ranch, pelting them with snowballs along the way.

I’m happy, I thought as we got home. I’m happier than I ever thought I could be.

I thought about it that night while I was in bed with Cody. He was spooning me, surrounding me with his warmth as we drifted off to sleep. For a while I just listened to his breathing. A soft wheeze that came at the same time as his warm breath in my hair.

I wouldn’t trade this for anything in the world, I realized.

I talked myself into it while I was cuddling with him. I had written a dozen books in my career, but I had never met three men like them. The choice was an easy one. I wouldn’t throw away what we had for some stupid fiction novel.

The best thing to do would be to stand up to Terry and insist that I didn’t want to write a book that resembled the Cassidy brothers. Then I would sit the three of them down and come clean. Tell them why I originally came to the ranch. Explain that I wasn’t just Becca the ranch hand, I was Rebecca Winters, the suspense author. I could make them understand that things had changed since I arrived, and that all I wanted now was to be with them. To be shared by them, just like they had offered to me.

And then wait to see if they forgave me.

The last part was what gave me pause. Would they forgive me? I told stories for a living, so I believed I could make them understand why I had done it. But even still…

Another idea came to me. One which was easier.

That was my big mistake.

I checked my watch, then carefully slipped out of bed. Cody grumbled something, but remained asleep. Then I got dressed and went out to the barn.

“You’ve been overhearing a lot of conversations lately,” I told Bessie. “Promise to keep my secrets?”

The milk cow stared back at me with her bulging eyes.

“What’s this?” Terry said when she answered the phone. “You’re actually calling me, rather than me trying to chase you down for once?”

“Hey, Terry. Do you have time to talk?”

“I always have time for my favorite client. And when I say favorite, I mean most popular and profitable. What’s up? Did you get permission from the cowboys to write the story?”

“That’s the thing,” I said, cringing at the lie. “I told them everything today. They didn’t react well.”

Terry paused before responding. “What did they say, exactly?”

“They said no. They refused to give their consent for any story that resembles them or the events on this ranch.”

She uttered a curse under her breath that was so vile it would make a cowboy blush.

“They were offended by the idea,” I went on, elaborating on the lie. “Their lifestyle, wanting to share a woman between them, is a private matter. Even if it never came out that the story was inspired by them, they don’t want such a book floating around.”

“This is a nightmare, Rebecca,” she said. “I’ve already reached out to a few publishers. The big five were going to get into a bidding war over the publishing rights. What am I supposed to tell them now?”

“Tell them I’m going to pivot,” I replied. “I’m going back to the original story I was going to write. Just one cowboy love interest, and a mystery on the ranch. It’s going to be a great book, Terry.”

A sigh. “I’ll go back to the publishers and let them know.”

“I’ll probably stay on the ranch longer than my original contract,” I said. “I’ll write this book, and then maybe another one. It has series potential, and publishers like series, right? I have so much inspiration here, Terry. My mind is less cluttered being away from a city. I feel creative again.”

“That’s great, Rebecca,” she replied. “That’s really great. I’d better get started making phone calls to these publishers. Maybe we can still create a bidding war on your next novel.”

I said goodbye and then did a little dance in the barn, kicking straw in all directions.

“I did it!” I told Bessie. “I found a way out. I fixed my problem!”

If only I knew how wrong I was.