A Wild Cow Winter: A Christian Contemporary Western Romance Series (Wild Cow Ranch Book 2) Read online

  A Wild Cow Winter

  Wild Cow Ranch 2

  Natalie Bright

  Denise F. McAllister

  A Wild Cow Winter

  (Wild Cow Ranch Book 2)

  Natalie Bright

  Denise F. McAllister

  CKN Christian Publishing

  An Imprint of Wolfpack Publishing

  6032 Wheat Penny Avenue

  Las Vegas, NV 89122

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, other than brief quotes for reviews.

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © 2021

  CKN Christian Publishing

  Characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-64734-264-7

  Contents

  Your FREE eBook

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

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  Follow a Wild Heart

  About Natalie Bright

  About Denise F. McAllister

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  Chapter One

  The Wild Cow Ranch, Texas Panhandle

  Carli Jameson stood in the alley of the corral with one arm resting on the top gate rail. Her breath hung in the air as she stomped her feet to stay warm. The sun had only been up a couple of hours, and, typical for December, it had yet to take the chill from the air. Other cowboys stood at various spots along the pen alley, each with a specific job to do. A dust cloud hung over them created by trampling hooves. The bawling of the cows and the answered calls from their calves drowned out the ability to talk. Today was shipping day.

  Her job was to open the gate for the heifers as they were sorted from the herd. The crew worked with practiced precision. A cowboy on horseback cut about ten calves from the main group and ran them up the alley where several men on foot sorted by heifer or steer. The first group pushed them to the next crew of cowboys who steered them into another alley using long poles with flags on the ends. Their shouts rang out.

  “Heifer.”

  “Heifer.”

  That was Carli’s cue to be ready. She swung the gate and the excited calves ran towards the opening, except one turned at the last minute in a panic and tried to go around her. She stepped out from behind the gate and raised her arms, “Yaah!”

  The calf spun and shot through the opening.

  Day working cowboys made it look easy, just like a well-oiled machine, except Carli felt like a broken cog in the wheel. She tried to pay attention and anticipate what came next. The hardest thing about cow work is knowing how to stay out of the way.

  These hands worked together many times over the course of a year on various ranches, and instinctively knew what to do without speaking a word. She was trying to learn and absorb everything she could about cattle ranching.

  The Wild Cow Ranch belonged to her now. At twenty-eight years old she inherited it from her mother’s father, Grandpa Ward, who changed his Last Will and then died a short month later. Carli never knew him, or any of her mother’s family. Although, she vaguely remembered meeting him once when she was about ten. When her mother, Michelle, was sixteen years old, she gave her baby to a sweet older couple to foster. Carli was born in Amarillo, Texas, then grew up in Florida and Georgia. She had a good life with the Fitzgeralds, but a piece of her always felt off kilter. Out of place. And now Carli owned the very Texas ranch that her mother had been determined to run away from.

  “Looks like you’re getting the hang of it,” said Lank Torres, the ranch’s cow hand. Her employee. His neatly shaped black mustache and chin patch encircled the wide grin that reached his sparkling blue-gray eyes. Those eyes always made her utterly weak at the knees. It was disgusting. She hated feeling out of control around him.

  “Thanks for the pointers. I’m not as quick as the others.” She glanced over the backs of the herd at her neighbor, Nathan Olsen, who gave her a thumbs up. She grinned back at him. He sat on his horse in the next pen, wearing a bright purple pearl snap shirt, a black wild rag around his neck, and a black cowboy hat. Handsome and all Texan, he looked like he had just stepped out of a Western wear catalog. Why couldn’t he make her pulse race? Dating a neighbor just seemed more appropriate than dating one of her employees.

  “You’ll get the hang of it, boss.” Lank looked towards the ranch’s entrance. “The bull haulers are here.”

  Carli turned her attention away from Lank to watch a line of 18-wheelers, bull haulers, rumble into ranch headquarters. The culmination of a year’s work ended with shipping day. The heifers were going to a ranch in Kansas to become mommas and help to build someone else’s cow/calf operation. The steers were going to a feeder in Nebraska. One of the trucks had a small green wreath wired to the grill. She cringed. Out in the middle of nowhere and she’s still reminded of the holiday she tries to avoid at all costs.

  Carli glanced at her bottle-fed calf, Maverick, in a nearby pen. She had absolutely refused to allow Lank and Buck Wallace, her ranch foreman, to make him into a steer. Little Maverick had been orphaned, born well after the other calves in the herd; his momma was sick and injured before being set upon by a pack of coyotes. Maverick was hiding, curled up in a clump of yucca near his dead mother. Staying put right where his momma told him to be. But he was gaunt and starved so he took to the bottle without much trouble. He was Carli’s and she was his. She loved him almost as much as she loved her horse Beau.

  Maverick bawled in answer to the other cries and moans, peering out from between two slats. Lank and Carli shut him in a small stall to keep him out of the way.

  “Steer.”

  “Steer.”

  “Steer.”

  The declarations rang out as three calves bounded around the corner. Carli heard the man’s shout above the bawling and stepped inside the pen with the heifers, hiding behind her gate. Three steers sporting orange ear tags ran past her without any trouble and then through an opening into another pen. A third pen held calves with white ear tags. They were over half done with the sorting.

  “What are those calves?” Carli asked Buck while he waited for the cowboys on horseback to cut out the next group to be sorted.

  “Replacements. Heifers we’re keeping. They’ll be put with low birthweight bulls and become calf producers for the Wild Cow. They get to stay home.”

  Carli didn’t know much about Red Angus but she was learning. Solid colored in varying shades of rusty red, soft eyes with long eyelashes set in delicate faces watched her cautiously. “They’re pretty.”

  “I pick out the ones with more feminine faces. They
make good mothers,” Buck said.

  The continuous beep of an 18-wheeler backing up to the loading chute rose above the bawling calls of the mommas and their babies. The early morning sun cast a brilliant reflection on the shiny metal rig. A second too late she heard, “Heifer!” Her gate was only part way open and the men behind the calf came around the corner flapping their flags and making “whoop” sounds.

  Four hundred pounds of beefsteak plowed right over her. The calf’s shoulder bumped her side and Carli spun and toppled to the dirt. Lank sprang into action and swung the gate shut before the entire lot of heifers escaped. The heifer reached a dead end in the alley, twisted and turned, and decided she needed another piece of Carli. But she was ready. This time she jumped to the fence just in time to get out of the way but lost her balance and the momentum sent her toppling into the pen on the other side. She landed with a hard thud. Lank swung the gate open and the heifer came charging into the pen. Nathan appeared at her side and blocked the heifer from running over her again. He offered her a hand up and Carli let him slowly pull her to her feet.

  “Is anything broken?” Nathan asked.

  “Good job using your body as a blocking dummy.” Lank smirked as he gave her a sideways grin.

  Carli brushed the dust from the back of her jeans. That was going to be sore tomorrow. “Just trying to make a hand.” Everyone laughed.

  The day working crew finished sorting the herd. Buck motioned for Carli to follow him. “You can record the information in our ranch book as we get a weight.”

  They stood at the scales, a sizable contraption with a numbered bar housed inside a tin shed. The floor floated inside a cage, with pipe rail fencing all around and gates at both ends. Cowboys ran fifteen head into the pen and closed the gate. Gates clanked shut and Buck moved the weights on the bar. He called out the total which Carli wrote down in a notebook. As the calves were pushed out the other end, two cowboys took a second headcount. Buck showed Carli how to do the math to get an average weight. After all the herd was weighed, they were pushed down the alley and up the chute into the waiting livestock trailer.

  The trucks backed up to the loading chute one by one. The cattle were urged up the ramp, their hooves clanking on the metal as they filled every space in the two-level trailer. The truck driver walked into the trailer behind each small group, directing calves into the belly, a handful to the very front, and others up a second ramp into the top level. Each section was separated by a gate which clanked shut in between.

  The cow punchers worked steadily, without much talk as they sorted, weighed, and loaded the year’s calves. Carli watched the last truckdriver slam the trailer gates shut, check them to make sure they latched, and then walk all around his rig, giving it a once-over. He climbed up into the cab and drove up the hill. The last load.

  A sadness swept over Carli as she watched the taillights of the bull hauler. Those calves were born and raised on the Wild Cow. They were a part of a decades-old legacy begun by her grandfather. Their life had been as good as it could have possibly been and they were as much a part of the land as she was. The good thing was knowing that the heifers were leaving to form the basis of a herd for somebody else. The steers were product, in the same way as the farmers who raise watermelons or grass hay.

  “That’s good work, cowboys. We can take the replacement heifers back to their pasture.” A ringing chow bell interrupted him. Buck grinned. “But let’s eat first.”

  The group walked towards the cookhouse, spurs jingling and boots crunching the gravel drive. Carli followed behind trying not to limp, but her hip was screaming at her.

  “How about I get you some aspirin for that?” murmured Nathan as he fell into step beside her.

  She smiled up at him. “Thanks, but I’ll survive.”

  Lank ran up on the other side of her. “Shake it off, cowboy. We have more work to do after lunch.” He swatted her on the back and hurried past them into the cookhouse. Nathan stopped to hold the door for her.

  She glared at Lank’s back as he dashed inside. Carli stopped at the threshold, the swirling smells of cinnamon and chili peppers tickled her nose. She closed her eyes for a brief minute, taking a deep breath to savor the aroma, but hesitated. Slowly opening her eyes, Nathan gave her a funny look as he held the door open for her and waited.

  Come on. You can do this. She forced herself to take a step inside the cookhouse and face the scene she knew was waiting. She frowned.

  Christmas.

  On every flat surface, wall, staircase banister. Everywhere.

  The ranch cookhouse was a gluttonous display of the season. A needle-sharp headache hit Carli right behind the eyes as Here Comes Santa Claus pierced her ears. She took a deep breath and frowned at the towering tree that stood by the fireplace. A colossal reminder of how much she hated this time of year.

  Chapter Two

  Saturday Shipping Day, Noon

  The giant Christmas tree in the Wild Cow Ranch cookhouse was a gaudy display of holiday ornaments gone wild. What must have been a million twinkling fairy lights made Carli squint if she looked directly at them. Not one branch was spared. The ten-foot tree was smothered in red and white checkered bows. Small wreaths fashioned from barbed wire and decorated with tiny clumps of greenery along with glistening red satin balls. A train track encircled the tree trunk, providing the direction for a small locomotive that chugged around and around. The clickety-clack of its tiny wheels echoed in the dining hall, rising above the friendly banter of the day workers.

  A stone fireplace rose to the twenty-foot ceiling; its mantel could not possibly hold any more garland. In fact, Carli wondered at how the heap stayed in place. The pine scent assaulted her senses as she stood next to it, waiting her turn to fill her plate. She sniffled and rubbed her nose.

  Lola Wallace, Buck’s wife, stepped out of the kitchen into the dining hall to punch the button on the CD player. The day workers bowed their heads as Buck led them in a prayer to thank God for a safe morning and to bless the food. Carli said a silent prayer that someone would forget to turn the music back on. Keep Lola busy please, Lord. Is it all right to pray for such things?

  The spread laid out on the counter that separated the kitchen from the dining hall included Lola’s specialty, beef enchiladas. Carli let the cowboys fill their plates first. They had worked hard that morning. While she waited at the end of the line, she turned her back to the gigantic tree, but then had to face the dining hall. It was a Christmas explosion, too, and no blank space had been spared. The sight made her stomach queasy.

  More garland hung from the stair banister and across the second-floor balcony railing, held in place by huge red satin bows. Carli wondered if the upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms were decorated as well. She couldn’t even imagine what Lola and Buck’s bedroom must look like.

  Greenery hung over every window, adorned with red berry wreaths.

  Instead of desserts, the sideboard served as the setting for a Christmas village, more elaborate than anything Carli had ever seen. Nestled in soft piles of cotton were various sizes and shapes of shops and houses. The tiny windows sparkled with golden light. Each building was surrounded by snow-covered evergreens, miniature people, and horse-drawn sleds. An ornate white chapel dominated center stage, its steeple rising high above the quaint village.

  Lola had really outdone herself, both on the food and the decorations.

  The couple who raised Carli weren’t much on holidays or celebration. With just the three of them, there was only a small table-top tree, a few presents for Carli, ham and pumpkin pie, then Christmas was over in a flash. Carli never knew any of her blood relatives and her guardians never spoke of them. After the Fitzgeralds died, both in the same year, she spent Christmas Day by herself. Alone. It was just another day. She hated the commercialization, the fuss over toys and gifts, and the decadence of gorging on food, all for one day of the year. It made no sense to her.

  “Everything go smoothly this morning?” Lola asked Carli fro
m the other side of the granite bar.

  Carli lifted a holly berry-edged plate from the stack. She frowned at the red napkin with reindeer faces before shoving it and silverware into her back pocket. Trying to ignore the dinnerware, she dug into the dish of cheesy enchiladas and then covered the other half of her plate with refried beans and Spanish rice. She skipped the salad this time but got extra salsa. Since moving to Texas, she had developed an appreciation for hot sauce. Lola served it at every meal. Homemade, a special family recipe. She glanced at Lola. “Yes. Calves look good. I was sorta sad to see them go.”

  “I feel that way, too. They’ve lived their whole life here. They’re part of our ranch family.” Lola smiled. “But we do our best to produce healthy beef and the money they bring keeps us going for another year, so I try not to think about it. Here, be sure and try my guacamole. You need some hot sauce, too.”

  Since moving from Georgia several months ago to run the ranch she inherited from her grandparents, Carli gave up on refusing the food that Lola shoved her way. She gained weight, but that only made her want to work harder. Turns out the added calories gave her more energy and made it easier to keep up with her ranch employees, Lank and Buck. She loved staying outside most days and working at all the chores that needed to be done. Her office job back in Georgia was a distant memory; she sure didn’t miss it. And since she had her horse, Beau, with her too, there wasn’t much that she longed for from her old home. Horse shows and giving riding lessons had been traded for cow work. Ranch work was very satisfying. She just needed to learn more about the cattle business.