Page 33 of Wrangled Up (Menage a Trouble #2)

A rivulet of sweat ran between Christian’s shoulder blades and all the way to the waist of his jeans.

The sun ground him and Tucker into the Wyoming dust. Indian summer had returned with a vengeance, and Christian was half surprised this morning not to have received a call from the road crew.

On good days, they scrambled the team to eke out another day of work.

He had, however, received a phone call for a side job to be completed over the weekend.

That meant some cash flow, which was always good.

Especially since he’d invested in the shipment of horse feed while Tucker was away.

He’d never accepted the cashier’s check and had no need for it now.

His personal bank account was in the black and he wouldn’t need much to sustain himself .

Christian jammed the point of the shovel he was using into the earth and peeled off his T-shirt. They’d already dug five post holes for new fencing, but they had a sight more to go, by his estimate.

“Gettin’ hot.” The rasp in Tucker’s voice made Christian look up. His lover’s gaze was locked on Christian’s torso. A jolt of awareness ran through him.

“Yeah. Could use more of that teasy wind.” In these parts, it wasn’t unusual for a cold breeze to blow, which dropped the temperature considerably. Unfortunately, today the breeze wasn’t showing its fickle face.

Christian went back to digging holes. The silence between them was companionable. Working together toward a common goal besides making Claire scream in release felt good.

“When are those alpacas showing up?”

Tucker had gone to auction the previous day and bought fifteen new alpacas to keep Boom Boom company.

“Tomorrow at noon. Claire’s inside whipping up booties for them now.” Tucker caught Christian’s eye, and they shared a grin .

“Why’d you buy them again?” Christian swiped a gloved finger over a bead of sweat on his brow.

“I don’t know. Price was right. Felt like it. Claire’s going to take care of them. One of them is for my cousin. I promised her.” Tucker kept his gaze trained on the hole he’d just dug deep enough to fit a post.

“Claire agreed to stay here and be alpaca mistress? That’s surprising.” Christian snorted in a way that punctuated his sarcasm, but Tucker detected a hint of worry.

“She’s thinking about it. I want you to stay too.”

Christian glanced at him. “That so?”

“Yeah, I could use the help, and you’ve more than proved yourself.”

“And you wouldn’t possibly want me to stay for other reasons.”

Tucker grinned, sweat zigzagging down his jaw. “Plenty of other reasons.”

Smiling, Christian hoisted one of the heavy steel posts, carried it to the hole and dropped it in. Tucker immediately started shoveling dirt around it. When it stood upright on its own, Christian employed his shovel to tamp down the soil.

“Six down. Thirty to go.”

“Then we’ve gotta check on that lame horse again.”

Yesterday Tucker had informed him that Dale had appeared to hassle him some more about the papers and had left on a word about an injured horse.

The second injured horse on the ranch since Christian had gotten involved. He didn’t know a lot about the ranching business, but it seemed fishy to him.

“So you think Dale did something to that horse?”

Tucker jerked. From under his hat, he eyed Christian for a long minute. Shock spread over his features.

“What?” Christian asked. “You didn’t think of it?”

“No. Jesus, no . My family is capable of doing a lot, but hurting animals on purpose?” Tucker chopped at the ground, creating deep slices like macabre smiles. Finally, he looked up at Christian again, a muscle jumping in the crease of his jaw. “You think this could be the case?”

“It’s possible. And Claire thinks he’s capable. Your family’s been here before on four-wheelers with shovels on the backs.”

“Shit, you talked to Claire about this?”

“After the first horse was hurt.”

“ What? ” Tucker threw down his shovel and faced him. Wrath played over his rugged features like a tornado eating up the surface of a volcano. Apocalyptic rage. “He hurt my fucking horses?”

“I don’t know that for sure, man. Just a theory. But yeah, a horse in the top pasture was limping. I checked it myself, and when I figured out what was wrong with it, Claire talked to some people and I spoke with Cyril Wells down at the feed store about how to care for it.”

Tucker’s shoulders relaxed minutely, but a vein throbbed violently in his throat. “You did right, Chris. I appreciate it.”

“I didn’t think about telling you. It’s just part of day to day life, right? ”

Tucker considered his words. “Yeah, sometimes a horse comes up lame. But not two—not my horses. C’mon.”

He strode away. Christian grabbed his shirt from the ground and headed after him.

They jumped into Tucker’s truck and sped up the ridge.

The high weeds on either side of the dirt road reminded him of Claire and the moment when he’d spotted her in the middle of the road.

His heart had surged with absolute love.

Quite the same as the sensation he felt when Tucker had returned.

He clamped a hand on Tucker’s firm thigh muscle. His lover looked at him sharply, as if still deep in his anger. Then his expression grew less severe. He covered Christian’s hand with his, warm and gloved.

“If Dale and Leon are fucking with my horses, it’s going to be a bloodbath.”

“I know,” Christian said with mild amusement.

Tucker’s lip quirked up reluctantly, and he squeezed Christian’s hand. “I want you to take a closer look at this horse and tell me if you think the injury is the same.”

“Sure. ”

A minute later, they were inside the fence. Tucker stuck two fingers in his mouth and blasted a shrill whistle that brought several of the horses running toward them. Christian watched with admiration as Tucker controlled his stock with skill.

He picked out the limping mare easily among the group.

“Ease up to her now. Don’t want her to spook and kick.”

Christian shot him another amused look. “I know.” He’d done this a time or two in the weeks Tucker was gone. He was no longer the skittish guy around the animals—tending them was like breathing now.

He walked right up to the mare, patted her nose and let her get acquainted with his scent. Then he circled around to her hind leg, which she held inches off the ground.

He dug the frog he often carried out of his back pocket.

“Lookit you. When the hell did you become a cowboy, Chris?”

He glanced up to see the appreciation in his lover’s stare—a look that made his insides knot and created a dull ache in his groin .

“Guess it was always in me.” Christian ducked his head and caught the mare’s leg. She danced a little and he had to release her. When he tried to look a second time, Tucker soothed her with a few clicks, and she let him bend her leg up to look at her hoof.

It was cleaned out—something Tucker had probably done yesterday after checking on her. But sure enough, there was some swelling in the same place the last horse had shown lame.

“Uh.”

Tucker neared at Christian’s grunt. “What is it?”

“It looks the same. Think they’re stepping in a hole somewhere around here?”

“Dunno. Let’s walk the property and see what we find.” Tucker took off, and Christian let the horse go with a pat and a soothing word of thanks.

They crisscrossed the pasture, gazes to the ground, looking for rodent holes or a rain washout. When Christian spotted the earth churned up near the fence, he gave a shout.

Tucker came at a jog. For a minute, Christian could hardly breathe. The hard roll of muscles reminded him too much of the way Tucker felt moving inside him. His cock twitched to life.

“What’d ya find?” Tucker stopped inches from him. Too close. It was impossible for Christian to stop himself from hooking a hand around Tucker’s nape and hauling his mouth to his.

Their lips met briefly but hard. Desperation rode just below the surface, but they both stifled it. There was work to do.

Christian released him and pointed. “See that?”

Tucker moved closer to the spot where a deep rivet had been cut into the ground. He crouched and plowed his fingers through the patch. “What do you think caused that?”

Christian drew near, and when he spotted the rough cuts, he knew what they were up against.

That bloodbath.

“I’ve been shoveling dirt for many years. I’d say that was made by a man.”

Tucker swore. He launched to his feet so fast, Christian rocked back on his heels. “You sayin’ someone trespassed on my land and dug up this patch? A piece of ground the horses traverse all the time to get to the water trough?”

“Looks like it.” It was cut in such a way that a horse’s leg would twist. Whoever had dug this knew what they were doing.

“Fuck me,” Tucker ground out. He doffed his hat and raked his fingers over his shorter hair. The outline of his skull was more apparent now after his haircut, but Christian wished he’d had a chance to feel those longer strands under his hands before he’d cut it.

He shook himself. “What do we do now?”

“Not you. Me.” Tucker whirled on a heel and headed back to the truck.

“Wait, man. You aren’t cutting me out of this. If there’s a fight, I’m damn well going to stand at your side.”

Tucker slowed. Pivoted to face him. Was he remembering his fistfight at The Hellion? He still bore the cut and Christian’s eye was at its peak of bruised splendor, a myriad of black, blue and green.

“We stand together,” Christian said.

Tucker waited for him to catch up, then he hooked Christian around the nape the same way he’d done minutes before. The fever in his eyes ignited a fire in Christian. Lust surged to the surface, prickling on his skin like the faint sheen of perspiration.

“I hope you’re up for a vigilante watch tonight.” Tucker stared at his mouth until Christian thought he’d lose his fucking mind.