Page 28 of Wild Rose (Blue River Springs #1)

Rose

It’s Friday night. The night of the heist the guys and I have been planning, and I’m a nervous wreck.

It helps that I’ve only seen Wilder a total of three times all week.

He’s distracted. It can’t just be me anymore. Maybe it’s Dallas? Maybe the rodeo? I’m anxious to know. I’m anxious to help.

And this whole thing Randy and the others are planning with Tuscan is starting to feel less and less like a good idea.

Oddly enough, the anxiety over it all week helped me fall asleep at a reasonable enough hour. Well, reasonable for me.

The locks on my door have helped too. I do feel safer.

Wes has been coming over for dinner the last few nights and apologized for last weekend. I want to be mad at him for being the reason Wilder’s set a wall between us, but truthfully, it doesn’t matter anymore. Not now. Not when I can feel the man hurting.

As planned, I leave my lights on in the cottage and sneak out. I don’t want to draw attention to myself so I don’t take the golf cart. I start on foot, keeping my eyes and ears on alert.

Nelson spots me and waves me down just outside his cabin, and I catch a ride with him in his Jeep.

“That what you’re wearin’?”

I’m wearing a long, black, off-shoulder sweater and denim shorts.

“Oh, I’m not going to the rodeo,” I say. “I’m just helping with .?.?.”

“The heist?” Nelson finishes.

I shake my head. “Let’s get this over with. Just be careful with him.”

“Who you talkin’ to? Randy’s a helluva rider. He’ll win.”

“Technically, the horse wins, right? And it’ll help get Blue River Ranch more recognition?”

“Absolutely. Come on.” He parks in a dark spot on the side of the stables. And I notice the lights are dim around the building. Some even turned off.

“Who shut off the lights?” I say, approaching Randy and Barry, who are already here.

“I did,” Randy says.

“That was a bad idea. Someone will notice. Better to keep them the way they always are.”

Randy chuckles as he preps Tuscan.

Something tugs in my chest. I start to wonder if he really has Wilder’s best interests at heart.

“She might be right,” Nelson says. “Should we turn them back on?”

“Well, you can’t now. Forget it, how much time do you need to get him ready?” I ask.

Barry and Randy exchange glances and nod in agreement. “Think he’s ready.”

Nelson glances around the dark open field. “Randy, you sure about this?” he asks.

Randy sighs. “You want to watch Dallas suffer another season because of this? For Blue River to become second rate because of lost business?”

“You know we don’t,” Barry answers.

Randy turns to me. “You?”

“Of course not.”

He scans me. “You comin’ tonight? Watch us make a name for this place?”

I swallow, my heart pounding.

Nelson touches my shoulder. “He’d never do it,” he says softly, and I know he’s referring to Wilder. “But we can do it for him.”

“No.” I glance back. “I’m not coming. But I can stand guard.”

Randy smiles, but there’s nothing pleasant about it. “Atta girl.”

I run a hand gently down Tuscan’s mane. He’s Wilder’s horse. And Nelson’s right. Wilder will never compete. Not at Callahan’s anyway. So we will.

I turn on my heel and scurry toward the metal gate. It’s dark except for the faint glow of a lantern near the stalls, just enough light for the guys to work without drawing attention. My pulse pounds as I stand by the wide-open gate, arms practically shaking.

With excitement? Anticipation?

Fear?

I listen carefully for any sound beyond the rustle behind me. I wish I could see what they’re doing. And why do they need to be so loud?

“Keep it down,” I hiss over my shoulder.

“Relax, we’ll be in and out,” Randy whispers back. A saddle creaks. Hoofbeats shuffle.

My stomach tightens.

I hear another set of boots. Not coming from the stables. But from just around the side.

Dear God let this be someone else Randy enlisted to help tonight.

A tall, shadowed figure steps into the dim light.

My breath catches. Not at the proximity of the massive body in front of me.

But the face glaring back at me. “Wilder,” I breathe.

He’s ridged, all sharp edges and contained fury.

“What are you doing here so late?” I ask in one breath.

The very last I have left.

He lifts a brow, his expression not an ounce softer. That gaze cutting right through me.

It’s now that I realize we never decided on a warning word or sound.

Not that I can find the voice to shout back to them now.

Wilder flicks his eyes past me, where the guys are prepping Tuscan. “Move, Rose.”

I don’t move. I block him using what little I have compared to him.

He huffs before firmly but carefully shoving me aside and striding forward.

I race up in front of him, pressing my palms to his steel body. “Wait.”

He ignores me and stares ahead. “What the hell do you think you’re doing with my horse?” he seethes at the guys.

They all turn in shock. Then, like I led Wilder here all by myself, they each shoot me a hard glare.

I grip his arms to shift his focus back to me. “Hold on, it’s not what it looks like, let me explain—” I don’t know why I’m volunteering. Maybe because I feel like a terrible lookout? It was literally my only job.

Or maybe because I need him to know we were doing this for him—not working against him.

A muscle ticks in his jaw, eyes locking with mine. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.” Then he strides past me to the men. “If you boneheads tell me that you’re taking him to the Callahan rodeo, you’re all fired.”

Randy steps in front of the other two, protectively. “Boss, come on. We were going to represent you. That’s why we chose Tuscan. This would be—”

Wilder’s nostrils flare. “I catch you sneaking an animal off my ranch and you start with ‘Boss, come on’?”

Nelson and Barry glance at each other, then Barry speaks up. “We were trying to help—”

Wilder steps toward Randy—somehow knowing he’s the ringleader here. “You were gonna ride him?”

He stares back without a response.

“Course you were. You didn’t just take any horse, you took the one that could win. Tell me, you plan on cutting me in on your winnings?”

“Sure did. But the ranch name, that’s—”

“That’s a load of crock and you know it.”

“Boss—” Nelson starts.

“Step away from my horse,” he barks. “You all want to go to the rodeo?” Wilder turns his hard glare back on me. “Be my guest. But not with anything that belongs to me.”

I keep my eyes locked with his while the men scramble to get the other mares quiet from the commotion. Tuscan stays stationed in the middle, dipping his muzzle into a stack of hay.

I flip back to the sound of crunching gravel as others from nearby cabins appear, alarmed and confused.

Wilder briefly scans over the newcomers but doesn’t call the show to an end.

No. His attention shifts back to me, thick with something I can’t read.

“You were the lookout?” His voice is low and sharp.

Refusing to shrink under his scowl, I tilt my chin. “I think you’re overreacting. We were just trying to help.”

“This isn’t helping, Rose,” he shouts. “This is aiding in a robbery. What if my best horse got hurt tonight? What if he lost? How the fuck would that help anybody?”

I did consider the risks. But I also considered the reward if he won.

It sounds foolish now.

“But I shouldn’t be surprised, now, should I?” he continues. “You go out looking for trouble.”

My eyes sting, but I fight the urge to let tears loose. Something inside me twists at the heat in his eyes—it’s not just anger.

There’s something else.

Finally, he lowers his voice. But I prefer yelling over what he says next. “You trying to get my attention, Blue? Well, you’ve got it.” Leaving me with that steely gaze, he turns back to the men.

“Nelson, Barry, you’re shoveling stalls tomorrow. Randy, you too. Then on Sunday”—he turns back to me—“I want you to pick up Rose first thing. You can show her how to lift stones from the pastures.”

Randy scoffs. “All of them? Sounds good to me.” He winks at me.

Jackass.

“Whatever she doesn’t finish, you three will,” he barks.

“What? Boss, it’s supposed to rain tomorrow, the conditions might be—”

“Then I suggest you all dress appropriately. And yes, all of them,” he shouts, and it makes me feel sick.

I can’t breathe.

Is this .?.?. punishment?

Is that a thing around here?

My chest is tight with something I can’t place. Anger? Betrayal? I have no idea what lifting stones means or how long that might take, but it can’t be any worse than the way I feel right now.

My face burns hot and I roll my lips together, barely noticing his eyes drawn to them when I do.

I don’t utter another word. I can’t. I turn on the toes of my boots and run.