Page 8 of Cowboy's Way

“Good to see ya,” I say, nodding at Havoc, who’s by far our best tracker, even if he does currently resemble roadkill. “What the hell you’d get up to after I left?”

“Bobbi and Debbie came by and …” Demo says with one of his classic shit-eating grins.

“Allegedly!” Havoc cuts him off. “I have no recollection of anything that happened after dark.”

“You know better than to drink Bobbi’s moonshine.” I can’t help but join in on the ribbing, at least until he grabs his stomach and turns back to hurl near the base of an oak. “Dammit.”

I stalk off, filling up a bucket of water in the barn. The last thing I want is Bruno getting into that mess.

“Poor guy was so plastered, he wasn’t any use to either of them,” Demo drawls out his sentence and all Havoc can do is shoot us the bird while he continues to decorate the base of the tree.

“We met your new neighbor at the diner,” Demo starts, lighting a smoke as I pour water over the chunks near the tree. “You left out the part where she’s hot as hell.”

“And smart enough to shoot your old ass down,” Havoc taunts him, his stomach settling enough to straighten up and face us.

“She’s a little spitfire.” Is the most I will say, trying to ignore the look my brothers exchange.

“Aspitfire, huh?” Demo chuckles. “Havoc, you ever heard Cowboy use that term before?”

“Never heard anyone use that phrase before,” Havoc responds with the kind of slow drawl that tells me he’s got a zinger coming. “Saw it on the cover of one of those romance books my sister reads, but …”

“I have some questions about her,” I tell them, and my words quickly wipe the smile from Demo’s face.

“Yeah, I got the sense something’s off with her,” Demo readily agrees with me.

“Besides how she eats?” Havoc asks before spitting and reaching for the bucket. “That’s what turned my stomach in the first place.”

“Thought that was Bobbi’s moonshine,” I call to his back as he walks to the barn to get more water. My eyes flick over to Demo, and I raise an eyebrow in question.

“You ever mix together syrup, hot sauce, and ketchup?”

I shake my head and wait for the punchline, confused when there isn’t one forthcoming.

*

Later that day, with Bruno by my side, I cut through one of my pastures toward Faith’s house. Havoc and Demo scouted my land earlier and didn’t find any sign of the hogs, so something must have distracted them. They and our other brothers will be back later for some nighttime hunting.

When they were heading back to the clubhouse, Demo stopped to inform the older couple on the other side of me about our plans, which left Faith for me to tell.

Still sore that I let the guys goad me into demanding that I be the one to talk to myspitfire—as they started calling her—I swear I’ll ignore them when they start in on me later.

Looking up when Bruno lets out a soft grunt, I’m surprised to see the sheriff’s SUV parked near the backdoor of Faith’s house. Even more surprised to see the two women working in the garden.

“Afternoon, Sheriff,” I briefly greet Demo’s half-sister, before nodding at Faith. “Hey. Bruno, get back here.”

“It’s okay,” Faith says, indicating the newly repaired fence around the elevated garden. “Besides, if he can get in, there’s no use doing any of this planting.”

“For all the teasing we gave her, I figured the least I could do was bring her some root crops and garlic that she can replant,” Paverson explains with a shrug. She and her husband run a nursery, so she’s as much in her element helping Faith as she is keeping an eye on our town.

“Just wanted to let Faith know we’re going to be out hunting tonight,” I say, looking between them before I let my eyes settle on my new neighbor. “Was hoping you wouldn’t mind us traipsing around your property after dark? We’ll try to keep it down, but I can’t make any promises that the hogs will agree.”

Faith looks startled at the mere suggestion, then looks wide-eyed at the sheriff like I’m confessing to a crime.

Paverson lets out a brief laugh. “Don’t worry, it’s legal here. And after dark is the best time to hunt them. We just have an unspoken rule around here that if you’re going to do it, you let your neighbors know so no one gets shot for trespassing.”

“Oh, um, sure. That’s fine with me,” Faith says, her cheeks flushing. “Just tonight?”

“If we’re lucky, but maybe for the next couple of nights while we cull the hog population down a little.”

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