Free Seeds of Summer by Deborah Vogts Page B

from keeping the anguish inside. She raked her fingers through Jackson’s coarse dark mane, yearning relief. Though it was night, she debated climbing onto her faithful gelding and riding bareback through the pastures. She’d give him the rein, with only a crescent moon and stars to guide them over the rocks and hills. He could carry her away with his strong legs and sure feet. With the wind on her face and in her hair, maybe the hurt would stop hurting.
    Her plan evaporated as Tom’s noisy diesel roared up to the barn. Natalie swiped the moisture from her face and tucked her grief to a safer place for when she had more time and energy. Right now, she needed to be strong, present herself like the rancher her father would want her to be. She straightened to her full height, prepared to give her hired hand a piece of her mind.
    â€œHey Nat,” Tom called from the other side of the barn.
    She cringed at the nickname, reserved only for her closestfriends. “Where have you been, Tom? I’ve been trying to call you for hours.”
    â€œReally? Well, you know how it is out here. I must have been in a dead zone.” He lifted the straw hat from his head and tossed it in the cab of his truck, his yellow curls matted. “I went into town to get some supper. I told you that before I left.”
    Natalie picked up a currycomb and commenced to brush her horse’s back. “I don’t remember any such thing, just like I didn’t recall your similar excuse when you were supposed to help us unload the second shipment of summer cattle.”
    He shut the truck door and shuffled forward. “I explained about that too. You can’t blame me for an emergency.”
    Natalie shifted so that Jackson stood between her and the hired hand. “I can and I will. I’ve given this lots of thought, Tom, and I’ve made a decision. Your position on the Double-A is over, effective immediately. You’re never around when I need you, so it makes no sense to waste hard-earned money on a hand who doesn’t work. You can stop at the house to get your final pay. I’ll have it ready before you leave.”
    Tom’s eyes narrowed into disbelieving slants. “You’re making a big mistake, firing the only manpower you’ve got on this ranch.”
    Natalie stifled a laugh and slid the comb over Jackson’s rump. “Men are a dime a dozen in this county. If I need one, I know where to find one.” She hardened her gaze, hoping Tom would see she meant every word. When he stepped backward, she allowed herself freedom to breathe naturally. No way did she want to get in a tussle with this guy, though she was confident she could hold her own.
    â€œOkay, I’ll go. If you’re sure that’s what you want.” He jammed his hands in his front jean pockets. “But since you’re not giving me any advance notice, you better make that last paycheck twice the usual amount. For my trouble.”
    She clenched the currycomb and debated throwing it at him. Or better yet, she could hop on Jackson and chase the yellow-belliedcowboy off their land with a switch. “I have a better idea. You leave without a fuss, or I’ll make sure every rancher in Charris County knows what a loser you are, and you won’t work in this part of Kansas for years. Then we’ll see how far your excuses get you.”
    The man scowled but didn’t offer any more resistance. Once he’d disappeared into the darkness, Natalie put Jackson to pasture, then headed for the house, glad to see Willard and Jared’s vehicles parked in front. Should Tom get a wild hair and decide to cause trouble, there would be strength in numbers—even if those numbers included a broken-down war veteran and a pale-faced preacher.
    The two sat at the kitchen table, coffee mugs in hand. They perked up at her entrance, but Natalie kept walking.
    â€œWhat’s your hurry?’ Willard called to her