Page 49 of Claimed By the Cowboys

But then, I see the giant horseshoe-shaped bruise on Brent’s chest.

I blink, my own chest aching in response. “Shit, man. What the hell happened?”

Brent shakes his head. “You don’t want to know.”

I don’t, but I recognize that maybe Piper spent the night with him out of pity or care, because there’s no way they participated in any extracurricular activities. His entire right side is black and blue, and the horseshoe mark is raised up by about three inches off of his torso. Shit looks painful.

Dalton appears. He raises an eyebrow, examining the mark. “Sam kicked you?”

Brent glowers. “Fuck. Fine. I was putting Sam up, and then I accidentally opened the wrong stall door, and that fucking blood bay mare kicked me, okay?”

I look between them. Brent and Dalton don’t cross paths much, in terms of their work for the farm. Brent has his lane, and Dalton has his. And for good reason. Even though they’re close, they don’t work together well.

Dalton grunts. “You were in her space?”

“Yeah, but on accident?—”

“Don’t get in her stall.”

Piper giggles.

“Sorry,” she murmurs as we all look at her. “I shouldn’t laugh.”

“I’d say so,” Brent grumbles. He stretches, wincing, and I wince, too.

“That shit looks like it’s bruised to the bone, Brent.”

“Yeah. I know. Any volunteers to tape me up?”

“Tape you up?” Piper tips her head.

“Yeah. I’ll do it,” I say.

As I walk to get the first aid kit, Piper asks, “What do you mean, tape him up?”

“In case he has a broken rib, we’re just going to take some of the pressure off of his ribcage,” I tell her as I grab the kit and march back.

Dalton moves, grabbing the other part of the bandage as I hold the spooled majority of it. Brent holds the end that Dalton’s holding to his torso, and I hand the rest of it over to Dalton, who moves in a practiced circle around Brent’s upper half.

“How did you all learn to do this so… efficiently?” Piper asks.

I give Dalton a look. His jaw works, but he gives me a sharp nod.

“Dalton… sometimes needed first aid,” I say softly.

I feel Piper’s gaze snap to him.

Come on, Dalton. You can do it.

“What does that mean?” she says quietly.

Dalton huffs. “My uncle wasn’t a nice man, Piper.”

“I knew?—”

“You knew what we showed you,” Dalton finishes quietly.

Piper blinks.

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