Page 41 of Scent to the Feral Cowboys
“Attagirl,” I murmured.
We jogged the rest of the way to the stables, my breathing heavy and hers steady. The spring sun was hot on my bodyand sweat soaked my shirt by the time we slowed to a walk and entered the stable’s shadowy interior. We made our way to her stall, and I greeted Bowser who was lazily chewing hay. The mare happily entered her little home, the light above her gleaming off her pristine coat. I was dreading the next rainfall. If the horse proved to be one that loved muddy puddles, she’d be a pain to keep fresh.
"You did good today, girl," I soothed, closing the gate and reaching inward. She padded forward and turned, offering her hindquarters. I traced my hand gently down, feeling the wiry athletic muscles beneath the silky coat. A horse giving you their back could mean one of two things—prepare for a swift kick, or I feel safe enough not to keep you in view.
“You’ll be safe here forever,” I promised her.
Was I really promising the horse? Or was I promising a scent-match I might never meet through the mare? I didn’t know. Dammit, I wanted to say the words to the right audience. To our potential Omega.
Here at Sagebrush, you’ll never be scared.
Safety. Protection. A place to belong without fear.
We’ve wanted you forever.
We’ll never take you for granted.
I dropped my hand from the horse.
I walked away quickly, emotions rising in me so fast that I knew the dam would break.
I made it outside, far enough I wouldn’t scare the mare or Bowser. In the paddock nearby, the other horses roamed. Didn’t want to scare them either. I nearly ran around the stables, over our land and past the greenhouses and towards the old barn full of bullshit from a bygone era.
When I got there, I slammed my fist into the outer wall, breaking yet another horizontal board. I’d made it look like Swiss cheese lately. Broken the old window glass. Scratched myfists all to hell. Got splinters between my fingers. I brutalized the old barn to keep from brutalizing myself, my brothers, my business.
“Fuck!” I growled, slamming both fists against the barn now, and leaning forward to press my forehead into the weathered gray wood.
A breeze kicked up. The many scents of Sagebrush Ranch kissed against my body. Home. Our territory. The place we'd built for a pack that still wasn't complete. It would have been better if Cooper had never found Eros. It would have been better never to have this new hope.
Frustration clung to me; a second skin painted on so thinly that I kept forgetting it wasn’t an essential part of my being. The waiting. The uncertainty. The growing fear that Eros might never call, that their fancy tech might fail to find a scent match.
“Christ,” I breathed out, letting the breeze carry my words away, “I’m falling apart.”
The only thing that would help, the only thing that might temporarily stitch me together, was blowing off steam. It would buy me a few days. Buy me some sanity.
A simple distraction. Physical exertion that didn't involve work. A venture into town. A few drinks at Shorty’s place. Maybe find someone good for a night. The thought should have lifted my spirits—it always had before. A willing partner, no strings attached, just mutual pleasure to take the edge off. For the first time, the idea left a sour taste in my mouth. It felt... wrong somehow. Like a betrayal to a mate that didn’t even exist.
"Ridiculous," I muttered to the empty air. I forced myself to walk away from the barn. I forced myself not to look over my shoulder to see the new damage I’d inflicted.
I slowly made my way back to the working area of our ranch. As the stables and hothouses came into view, I could see Wade inthe northern pasture. Two calves walked beside him. Looked like a damn Rockwell painting.
Seeing him, I realized I didn’t want to hit Pinedale solo. Wade always required coaxing to go into town—especially at night with me because he knew my end game—but he needed a break. Guy still wasn’t sleeping for shit.
As I got closer to him, I hollered his name and waved. We locked eyes. He must have seen my need, written all over my face with permanent marker, because his left brow quirked up curiously.
“What’s up?” He asked, hopping the fence and closing the remaining distance to me. We turned in tandem, heading towards the house side-by-side.
“Thinking tonight’s a Shorty’s night,” I shrugged.
He looked over at me, and a crooked grin warmed his face. Yet, it didn’t meet his eyes. These days, all our gazes were clouded with stress.
“You know, for once, I’m not going to argue.”
“I had a feeling you wouldn’t this time,” I nodded.
We didn’t say anything else, finishing the journey to the house in silence.
We parted ways in the hall, heading to our rooms. We didn’t have to say, ‘going to shower and change’ or ‘meet you in the living room in twenty’ or even ‘what’s on the menu tonight?’ Our wavelengths were synched.
