Page 1 of Wicked Cowboy
Chapter 1
Carter Rockson
The horse, Henry, bucked off his rider. The cowboy rubbed his ass as he stood, which meant he was fine.
I stared into the black eyes of that horse and didn’t blink. He slowed down and followed the trainer out.
It would be weeks before that stallion was trained, but my heart filled with hope. He’d been abused, and beaten, and almost sent to make glue, but soon that one… he’d be a champion. It was pure energy, the horse's spirit.
Helping him was good. It was easier than seeking salvation for myself.
Three years ago now, Dora, my ex from the Navy SEALs, had stormed out of our tent in the middle of the desert without her helmet because I ended our relationship.
I’d said I wasn't happy, and she’d marched into enemy fire. Because of me. Because I hadn’t wanted to marry her.
I blinked and stared at the horse’s barn for another moment.
Now I’d never be allowed happiness. I didn't deserve it.
I stepped forward right into the bright sun of the day, adjusted the brim of my cowboy hat, and headed toward the main house.
I checked my phone. The tests for the geothermal systems to gather the shale were promising. I should probably order myself Poprocks as a thank you, though I’d not had that candy since I was probably ten.
But the technology reminded me of that old school candy, and it seemed appropriate, especially if I could save some land and increase the company's portfolio.
I breezed through the double glass doors and stepped over the Rockson family brand, embedded in the floor with gold, and continued straight to my office.
Once upon a time, my mother had made our home more like a palace, so when people visited the ranch, it was an experience. For them to know they were with Rockefeller descendants.
She hadn’t cared that my great-grandfather had legally changed our names to Rockson to avoid that connection. I’d dated Dora because she’d been nothing like dear old mom, but the opposite direction hadn’t been what I'd wanted either.
Now Dora’s blood would always be on my hands.
My office still had my mother’s presence in it, with gold and white furnishings. As I sat, the door swung open.
I ignored the report on my desk and folded my hands as I stared into the dark eyes of a man I’d spend days here and never see. At one time, my father, Hudson Rockson, ruled his empire and was never home. But that was before the second heart attack.
Now he was forbidden from working and chased off every nurse I hired for him.
He would not interfere with business now. I tapped the desk and asked, “Pop, what’s going on? I was working with the horses.”
His nose wrinkled, “You’re not a cowhand, Boy.”
Both of my parents had shared that opinion.
Neither understood me. I pressed my hands on the desk to signal I had work. “I’ve not been a boy in a long time, either.” This conversation never ended well. I scooted closer to the laptop, but picked up the paper report and pointed to the door “So I’ll head back…”
A young brunette girl, my charge, stepped forward like she needed an invitation. I had to figure out how to calm her down. I stood, dropped the paper in my hand, and asked, “Chelsea, what’s going on?”
Today, she wasn’t crying. This was a good thing. She came over and hugged me like she needed me. “My dad always said you’d help. I don’t want to be shipped off to mom’s friend. I know you.”
Her tiny hand was the opposite of mine, and I knelt in front of her. “I’ve not been able to talk to Ridley Steel yet.”
Pop then said, “Ensure she never shows up here and starts any trouble.”
Chelsea added. “You promised to protect me.”
I paused. My father had hated my friends when I was a boy. He’d said Bernie had been beneath me, but Bernie had been the reason I'd joined the SEALs.
