Page 52 of Some Cowgirls are Worth Protecting

“True.” He tilted his head and stared at her with a gaze that could have burned a hole into the side of a barn. “With this project, we’d need your full attention. We’d like it if you were not only the brains behind it but also the face in front of it. Of course, we’re looking for someone who can put their whole heart into the project—along with some capital. That property you’re currently trying to dump?—”

“I’m not trying to dump it.” She said it too quickly and too sharply for the manners she’d grown up learning. Embarrassment seared her cheeks, and she offered an apologetic smile. “What I mean to say is that it’s still a special project. I want the right buyer.”

“Of course. That’s perfectly understandable. What if I were to tell you that I might have just the person for your little passion?”

Her brows lifted.

“Ah, see? There’s that spark I was told about. They would even be willing to pay you one hundred thousand over asking price if you’re willing to part with it on their terms.”

Red flags shot up all around her. This sounded like someone was trying to manipulate their way into getting something she had worked hard to keep out of the wrong hands.

“Don’t worry. I’ve heard all about your feud with that developer,” he said.

Again, she couldn’t hide the shock from her face. If he’d heard about a feud, did that mean the developers were the ones behind this mess? A clatter near the reception desk drew their attention away. Someone had dropped a clipboard and a cup of pens.

“Where was I? Oh, yes. The folks I have in mind are more interested in building a community center. That’s something you can get behind, right?”

She swung her gaze back to Mr. Grant. A community center would be a great addition to the area. Hudson’s family would have benefited from something like that when they were younger. “What kind of community center?”

“Imagine a place where children of all ages would be able to have access to riding lessons and learning how to care for animals, despite their income or lack thereof. It would be like a recreational center but geared more toward ranching families.”

It actually sounded perfect. How could she possibly say no to something like that?

25

Hudson

Hudson hunched over at a bar, a seltzer water with lime in his hand. He needed to blend in if he wanted to be here and ask the sort of questions he needed to ask. The cowboys in this smaller town didn’t seem nearly as chatty as the ones closer to home.

So far, Hudson had gone to three different towns asking about odd jobs—doing anything if the price was right. He even made it clear that he was willing to do the questionable just so long as everything was laid out right in the beginning.

Dead end after dead end. He was running out of towns to hit. Soon, he’d have to start asking around in Colorado Springs. Something told him that he wouldn’t have any luck there, either. From everything he’d put together, the people targeting Rachel didn’t have much to lose. City folk cared too much about their homes, their cars, and their reputations unless they were part of the local gangs.

Nope, the men who had broken into the house were cowboys. It was smarter to search for people in ranching towns. He swirled the cup a little, then glanced down the bar at a few of the cowboys who had just entered.

It was too dim to be able to see their faces. Only one of them seemed even remotely familiar, and that might be due to Hudson’s current state of exhaustion. He hadn’t slept well at all since the fire. If he wasn’t having nightmares about the event itself, he couldn’t sleep because his thoughts continued to dwell on Rachel and just how disappointed he was about what she’d decided to do with the property.

There still might be a chance he could help her save it. But he was quickly running out of time—if he hadn’t already.

His phone buzzed. But that wasn’t uncommon. Between the calls from his brothers and sisters, he’d gotten a handful from Rachel as well. Her voice messages were the pleading sort. She never raised her voice. He could practically hear the defeat in the undertones, and they were what hurt the most.

The Rachel he knew was strong and independent. She was hard to break.

And yet these monsters had done it. They’d broken her, torn her to shreds, chewed her up like she was nothing, and now she was walking away from her vision of a wild horse sanctuary.

If nothing else, he was going to find the men responsible and hold them accountable in whatever way he saw fit.

His left hand curled into a fist, and he resisted the urge to slam it down on the bar. He couldn’t lose his cool. That wasn’t an option. He wasn’t going back home until he figured it out. Even still, his curiosity got the better of him, and he pulled his phone out to see who he’d missed a call from this time.

Disappointment weighed him down when he saw Henry’s name populating the screen. Henry was one of the worst. Every time he called or left a message, his anger seeped through. He blamed Hudson for the current state of things back home—with Athena, Rachel, and the sanctuary. Too bad. Life was tough right now and he’d have to accept it, just like Hudson had.

“… yeah, I got another call about that, too. You think it’s gonna sell?”

“I hope not. We’re getting bank with that gig.”

Could be anything. There were three cowboys huddled down a few stools from where Hudson sat. One of them pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit it before drawing in a deep puff and letting it out through pursed lips.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “none of the other gigs pay as well as that one. I’ll be sad to see it go.”

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