Page 10 of Cowboy Heat

Twice.

After the second time, I cursed at the lack of lights on the ranch and had to get Kissy’s photocopied map out.

My stamina gives out once the bathroom is cleaned, and I take a sleeping bag to the floor in one of the bedrooms. It has a small bed, but I find comfort in how uncomfortable the wooden floor is under my pillow. Or maybe I’m just exhausted. I fall asleep before I can recap my day and get tangled in my thoughts.

The morning comes, and I find that I’ve slept in past dawn. A feat, considering sleep is hard to come by for someone like me.

My leg’s stiff, but I manage.

I eat, take a cold shower with a mental note to check the water heater, and then set to cleaning.

Maximus calls me around nine; he’s been up for hours and was hoping I hadn’t been. He’s checking up on me when Kilpatrick starts calling.

“Tell Killer that he needs to call Lee back,” Maximus tells me before I hang up. “They’re in some kind of disagreement over something, and neither one of them is getting over it.”

I tell him okay, but I don’t bring it up when I talk to Kilpatrick. Maximus might be the leader of the family, but that doesn’t mean I’ll always follow. Plus, Kilpatrick is an adult, just like Lee. They can figure it out themselves.

Kilpatrick is more talkative than my other brothers and keeps me company on speaker phone while I’m working. Unlike the rest of us, Killer’s skills and focus split a hundred different ways. So does his resume. Right now, he’s rambling on about working at a bar in North Carolina and seeing a girl named Mary. Before I can ask more on either, he’s complaining about the weather and discussing the merits of a popular TV show that I haven’t watched but should.

Killer’s always a good break from my own head, so I’m almost a little sad to put him down when nine-thirty rolls around.

“I’ve got to go see a woman about a ranch,” I tell him.

We haven’t talked about when he’s coming to Robin’s Tree, and neither of us starts now.

“I’ve gotta call Jesse anyway,” he says instead. “I heard Dawn was kicking up trouble or getting close to it.”

I haven’t heard that, but Killer has always been closer to our older brother, Jesse. “Let me know if it’s something we all need to talk about,” I say.

I can picture him nodding, bright red hair shaking at the movement. “Will do. See ya.”

The call ends, and I wonder if anyone has talked to the last of our brothers, Macy, since I made Louisiana landfall. He’s the youngest of us but only by a few months. He’s also the hardest Montgomery brother to pin down. I send a text off to Maximus to ask about him and change into something not covered in dust and cobwebs.

I grab my keys, thinking Kissy might want to meet out at the gate, but then hear the sound of gravel crunching under tires out front. I rub my knee and set out. I want to see how the Jeep situation is going and if she feels better today.

Yet it’s not Kissy who’s getting out of a truck that’s jacked up high and covered partially in mud.

The man is on the younger side of forty, maybe the older side of thirty. He has dark brown hair to his shoulders and a goatee that’s shaved short. He’s wearing a beige buttoned-up work shirt, dark jeans, and dark red boots that, just by guessing, might be genuine alligator. He’s about my height and solid. I can’t tell if some of that is muscle based on how his clothes fit, but I get the impression that he’s the kind of man who’d tell me how strong he thinks he is if I asked.

If there’s someone in the passenger’s seat of the truck, I can’t see them. The vehicle’s windows are wrapped in tent I doubt is legal.

I don’t know the man from Adam, but I made a career of dissecting first impressions. This guy has me itching for my service weapon only seconds before I remember I no longer have a service weapon.

Instead, I give the man a nod and stop myself at the top of the stairs on the porch. It’s only a two-step difference from the gravel, but it gets him to slow to a stop himself.

He’s smiling wide. “I almost didn’t believe Blue got her a new resident, but lookatcha here,” he says in greeting. “At least, I’m assumin’ you’re the new one taking up the space.”

He has an accent that’s a touch Cajun, a touch Deep South, and something else I can’t quite place. He’s still smiling but his words feel heavy enough.

He’s prying.

He came to figure me out.

Then again, I am in a small town. I know how those work too. The new guy always gets some kind of welcome crew.

“That would be me,” I confirm. “Beau Montgomery.” I level the playing field and step on the ground to outstretch my hand. He takes it, still all smiles.

“Beau. That’s a good name there. Beau.” He’s mulling over the sound. His hand is calloused, his grip firm. “Knew a guy with the same name. Good fella. Don’t know if it’s a cowboy name, though. Never mind not knowing many cowboys, I’ll give you that.”