“You coming tonight?” I ask him as I ride by.
He looks down at Birdie before adjusting the Stetson on his head. I can already see the indecision in his gaze.
“Come on. Y’all can’t bail on me because you’re all married off now. It’s boys’ night.”
He finally nods. “I’ll be there. But don’t go trying to get me to drive you and a bunch of girls home. Rosie would beat my ass.”
“I wouldn’t do that.”
I would do that. Have done that. Might do it again if I have too many whiskey sours.
“I’m not kidding, Duke. Boys’ night.Justthe boys. And I wanna get home at a decent hour.” He reemphasizes his point.
Every one of my goddamn brothers is married or engaged.
We used to be rowdy. We used to brawl for fun.
Before our beautiful mother was laid to rest after a tragic car accident, she used to say God had blessed her with one precious daughter as an apology for all the gray hairs and splitting migraines us boys gave her.
Holden is the one who suggested we all brand ourselves with the cattle brand after one too many bottles were drained dry, and now he’s over there, doting on his baby girl and telling me he has a strict bedtime.
Cash would bet money on who could ride the biggest, meanest bulls for the longest, resulting in more than one ER visit.
And Sterling—the brother right above me in order, who I thought would for sure stay single until he retired from the military—just upped and married a girl he’d met at a truck stop and known for two whole weeks. He said it was because she was in a crisis pregnancy, but the second I met her and saw the way he looked into her big doe eyes, I knew he was a goner.
Even Sam—not my blood brother, but he might as well be—started sneaking around with my sister and doing only God knew what behind my back after I asked himvery nicelyto keep her safe while I hunted down someone threateningher. He even took her to where some girlie vampire movie had been made in Washington State to propose.
Sam. Vacationing in a vampire movie set townfor fun.
Like I said, pussy-whipped, the whole lot.
I roll my shoulders back as we approach the pens Sam is successfully herding the cattle into.
One with a copper-red hide tries to escape, darting around Sam’s horse and making a beeline for the open field behind us. I grab the rope looped around the horn of my saddle. I wind it up, twisting it above my head, and throw it toward the small, protruding horns of the animal.
It hits its mark, looping around the horns, and instantly tightens when I wrap the other end across the horn of the saddle.
Lady Liberty knows exactly what to do, digging her hooves into the dirt and straightening her legs. Once the rope goes taut, the bull calf’s body is jerked behind him. He fights against it at first, but my buckskin mare starts slowly backing up, pulling him toward the chute where the rest of the cattle are.
When we get him all the way there, I swing my leg over and jump down. The bull sees me coming and finally runs where he’s supposed to go. When the rope loosens, I unhook it.
“All right, boys, good work,” Holden says. “Thanks for the help, Sam.”
“You bet,” Sam says, climbing down off his horse.
I use the hem of my white T-shirt to dry the sweat off my brow.
“Hey, ladies,” a familiar voice calls from the fence.
I turn to see Cash and Sterling leaning against the steel fence, both grinning widely. All of us have the same dark hair and deep tanned skin, courtesy of our late mother’s Native American heritage.
Cash flew in from Los Angeles with his country-music-star fiancée, and Sterling took off work for just this weekend to celebrate Dolly’s upcoming nuptials.
I walk up to them, shaking each of their hands. “Glad you made it, finally.”
Cash looks more like a city slicker than ever before. He’s completely clean-shaven, and even though he’s dressed in our usual uniform—Wrangler jeans, a Stetson, cowboy boots, and a button-down shirt—his is brand-spanking-new.
He smells like the private jet he rode here on.