Chapter 3

"You're not working for the Oakleys anymore."

At the harsh statement, Hazel paused in the dawn light just outside wide-open barn doors. She peered inside and found the source of the comment—Sterling—with a shovel in hand, mucking the stall closest to the haymow.

Even in the low lantern light, the dark circles under his eyes were noticeable, his expression haggard and his jawline hard.

In the two days since the failed wedding, he'd probably only slept a total of a few hours at the most. She'd heard him pacing both nights in his room. And he'd worked himself to utter exhaustion both days.

Now, at dawn, she'd hoped to find Alonzo to drive her over to the Oakleys' for work, but the old cowhand wasn't waiting for her with the wagon like he usually was. And she hadn't found him anywhere.

"Where's Alonzo?" She searched the shadows of the barn, taking in the few dairy cows ready to be milked, the sow with her piglets in a penned off area, and a couple of barn cats perched in an open loft window.

"You're not going." Sterling's voice was firm, and he dug his shovel into the dirty hay as if the matter were finished.

She bristled under his tone. He was treating her like she was a child instead of a full-grown woman with a mind of her own. "I am going, Sterling. I like my job, and I don't intend to quit just because you've decided not to be friends with the Oakleys anymore."

In all the years of working for the Oakleys on their horse ranch, she'd never intentionally skipped a day of work until yesterday. She couldn't stay away today too.

From the moment she'd risen from the bed she shared with her sister Scarlet, she'd known she had to go. Yes, she was still mad at Maverick for the way he'd been holding and kissing Violet on Sterling's wedding day. She hated the cavalier way he'd made excuses for his womanizing, for the way he'd hurt and embarrassed Sterling, and for the shame he'd brought to their family.

Yet she had an important job at the Oakley horse farm as the broodmare manager, and she wasn't ready to give that up—not yet, and maybe not ever. She loved being in charge of the mares. It was her life, everything she'd ever dreamed of doing and more—tracking breeding cycles, overseeing gestation periods, assisting with all the foaling, and providing the newborn care. Not only did she thrive in her work, but the Oakleys needed her. Shoot, the mares needed her.

When she'd been younger, she'd helped at High C Ranch with the horses as a regular ranch hand. Then last summer, Mr. Oakley had decided his herds and breeding operations had grown too big for him to oversee. So he'd started looking to hire a manager who was organized and efficient and knew the horses well. She'd expected him to employ a veterinarian or maybe a cowboy with years of experience.

So when he'd approached her and asked her if she'd take the job, she'd been flustered, hadn't been sure if she was qualified. But she'd been thrilled and hadn't been able to say no when Mr. Oakley had insisted she was the one he wanted.

Oh sure, someday she planned to get married and have a family of her own. But at twenty-one she was still young and had time left before she'd have to settle down. Secretly, she hoped that someday her husband wouldn't be opposed to her continuing to work at the Oakley farm as the broodmare manager.

Whatever the case, she'd missed her time at the Oakleys' with the mares and the foals, and she was going back.

Sterling had stopped his shoveling to glare at her. "Don't you dare choose the Oakleys over me."

"You know I love you, Sterling." She gentled her tone. "I'm on your side through all of this." She hurt for him more than he knew. And she was so angry at Violet that she doubted their friendship could ever be repaired. But this wasn't about choosing sides. It was about losing the most important part of her life. And she couldn't give it up.

Besides, spring was the busiest time of the year for foaling. Six of the mares had already given birth, and she still had ten more to go throughout the rest of the spring and early into the summer. Tiny was due by the end of the week. The gentle mare needed her, and Hazel wasn't about to miss the birthing.

"I'll always be here for you." She wanted to cross to her oldest brother and give him a hug. He'd always been there for her too—had supported her taking the broodmare job when both Father and Mother had reservations. "But you're not in charge of my life."

He continued to glare.

She held his gaze and didn't waver. She wasn't nearly the spitfire Scarlet was, but she could be stubborn when she needed to be.

Finally his shoulders slumped, and he leaned heavily upon his shovel.

"I promise I'm just going to do my job. That's all. I don't plan to talk to Maverick—not any more than I absolutely have to." She may have once admired him. In fact, when she'd been younger, she'd always liked him, thought he was the handsomest cowboy she'd ever laid eyes on, loved his sweet charm, and adored his humor.

There had even been a time a few years ago when she'd entertained fanciful notions about trying to win him over and getting him to notice her as a woman and not just his best friend's little sister.

But she hadn't known what to do, and every effort she'd made to talk to him or spend time with him had seemed to miss the mark. Maverick had continued to treat her like one of his sisters and nothing more.

She'd eventually resigned herself to the fact that he'd never like her as much as she liked him. Over time, she'd done well with keeping her secret feelings for him stowed away. She'd been able to do her work without constantly battling her girlish attraction to him. Only once in a while had the rush of emotions slipped out and taken her by surprise.

The truth was, she was mostly over her infatuation with him. Now, after the way he'd betrayed Sterling, she felt nothing but animosity toward him—well, and sadness. And regret. And disappointment. And frustration.

Of course, she didn't blame Maverick entirely for all that had happened, even if Sterling did and refused to see all the ways Violet had contributed to the problem. Hazel had sensed Violet's confusion and hesitancy all spring.

In fact, just a couple of weeks ago Violet had brought up postponing the wedding, had admitted she wasn't sure if she was ready to get married. But since Violet was usually an emotional and indecisive person, Hazel hadn't taken the concern seriously—had instead encouraged Violet with how much Sterling loved her.

In hindsight, Hazel guessed she should have taken her friend's confusion to heart. Maybe she should have listened better. Maybe she should have told Sterling about Violet's hesitancies.

Regardless, what was done was done. And there wasn't any changing what had happened. After hiding in the barn for a short while and refusing to speak with Sterling, Violet had ridden home with her parents and sister. Sterling had gone to town yesterday to talk to her again and had learned that she'd left the high country and was traveling east with her sister and mother. Although Sterling had tried to discover where she was specifically going, apparently Violet had told her father not to tell anyone, especially not Sterling.

Sterling had come home more crushed. Even though he hadn't said so, it was clear that his relationship with Violet was over.

Hazel had loved her friendship with Violet and had been looking forward to having Violet as her sister-in-law. But now the young woman seemed like a stranger, and Hazel couldn't keep from wondering if she'd ever truly known her friend.

The friend she'd known wouldn't have let Maverick kiss her, certainly wouldn't have kissed him back...

Hazel's thoughts returned to the scene outside the house two days ago, the one in full view of the parlor window. When Maverick had come walking up the path carrying Violet, all the guests inside the house had grown quiet. None of them had even known Violet was outside. Not only had everyone been surprised to see her, but they'd been shocked to see Maverick holding her so intimately against his chest, their faces close, their expressions so intense.

Sterling had already stepped outside, and Hazel had been close on his heels when Maverick had stopped and kissed Violet. Or had Violet kissed him? Had Violet spoken the truth? That she'd been the one to initiate the kiss?

It had been difficult to tell from the front porch.

Either way, the kiss had been inappropriate. Even if Maverick hadn't started it, he could have avoided it or put an end to it almost immediately. But he'd kissed Violet back and had lingered for a few seconds, giving Sterling a full view of his disloyalty.

Not only had Hazel been mortified to see her friend and Maverick kissing, but she couldn't deny that she'd also been slightly hurt. Violet already had Sterling, who absolutely adored her, practically worshipped the ground she walked on. She hadn't needed Maverick too.

Not that Hazel had any claim to Maverick for herself. They were only friends. And it wasn't as if Violet had known about the old infatuation with Maverick. Hazel hadn't felt the need to talk about it since it wasn't important.

Regardless, Violet had been selfish to try to gain Maverick's affection in addition to Sterling's.

As Sterling bent his head and resumed his mucking of the stall, Hazel released a breath of frustration. Her brother had nothing to worry about. She'd never fall prey to Maverick's charm or good looks.

With a heavy heart, Hazel finally located Alonzo. His loyalty to their family ran deep, especially because Father had hired him to work the ranch when no one else would even consider hiring a cowboy who'd had one of his legs shot off during the War of Rebellion.

Although Alonzo hadn't protested her returning to work the same way Sterling had, at first he refused to hitch the wagon, telling her that he was too busy to take her. When she'd said that she would walk the two miles to High C Ranch, he shook his head and, a few minutes later, drove the team and wagon into the yard.

All the ride there, Alonzo's anger toward Maverick was clear in every twitch of his leathery face. As they entered through the front gate and started down the long dirt road that led to the house and barns, Hazel eagerly took in the horses grazing in the south pasture, the wide variety including Morgans, mustangs, Percherons, Clydesdales, and the new breed, the Colorado Oakley.

As with every time she gazed upon the dozen or so stately Oakleys, a sense of pride swelled within her, since she'd had a hand in their creation. They were a hardy horse—tall, muscular, and nimble-footed, intended to be able to withstand the harsher elements of the mountains. They'd also been bred to be steer-savvy and hard-working.

The new breed was proving to be everything they'd wanted and more. They were growing in popularity, and ranchers from all over the state were willing to pay a hefty price for one. In fact, several of the Oakley foals not yet born had already been purchased.

The horses disappeared from her view as the road began to wind through a stand of lodgepole pines. She drew in a breath of the fresh scent of damp spring soil, her blood finally seeming to come to life after the past few days of heartache.

When the team and wagon rumbled past the trees and into a clearing, the main house came into view, still made of the original logs from when the Oakleys had first settled the land. Smoke rose from a central stovepipe projecting from the roof, the gray wisps curling into the silent, motionless morning air.

The yard was deserted except for a scattering of chickens pecking about in the dead grass. Beyond the house, the barns and corrals and small cabins for the ranch hands also seemed deserted. Likely the men were already out on the range with the cattle, driving them to areas where the grass wasn't chewed down to stubs.

Although the Oakleys focused on their horses and didn't have the large herds of cattle that her family had, they still kept a fair number of steers that needed pasture. April was usually hard, that in-between time when the feed stores from the winter were nearly gone and the fresh grasses hadn't grown back yet.

As Alonzo directed the team and wagon toward the mare barn, the first of three large structures, Hazel's heart began to beat at double the speed. Even though she'd only been absent from work for one day, she'd missed the mares. She knew each one by name, their mannerisms, their temperaments, their preferences, even their communication. And she liked to think they knew her too.

When the wagon came to a stop outside the double doors, she gave Alonzo's arm a squeeze. "Thank you for bringing me."

His back was hunched, and he rested his forearms on his thighs, his empty pantleg tucked up against the stub of his leg that had been amputated directly above his knee. Beneath the brim of his salt-stained Stetson, his stringy, greasy brown hair was tied back with a leather strip. His sun-browned face was covered in a thick beard and sideburns. As he settled his gaze upon her, his expression softened. "It's all right, girlie. I know you love the horses, that's all."

She offered him a smile, thankful he understood her need to be there in spite of all that had happened.

"I'll be back at dusk."

"I'll be ready." At least, she hoped so. She never could tell exactly when her mares would go into labor. Even when the signs were all there, birthings weren't predictable. Usually Alonzo didn't mind waiting for her and often came into the barn to assist her in any way he could.

But now... she had the feeling he wouldn't want to help and wouldn't want to stay a minute longer at High C Ranch than necessary.

If only she could put her fear of riding horses behind her. Then she wouldn't have to rely on him, especially to get to and from work. But in all her years of trying to make herself get back on a horse, she'd never been able to. At this point in her life, she'd nearly given up hope that she ever could.

As she climbed down and then waved goodbye to Alonzo, he fixed on something beyond her, his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits.

She only had to follow his gaze to the barn entrance to know why.

Maverick.

He was disheveled, his Stetson crooked, one sleeve of his flannel shirt rolled up and the other down, one of his denim trouser legs tucked into his boots and the other half out. His jaw and chin were unshaven and covered in a layer of scruff, and his eyes were dark and brooding, absent of the good-natured cheer that usually filled them. Also missing was his grin. Instead, his mouth was set into a tight line, almost as if he wasn't pleased to see her there.

Her pulse tripped with sudden unsteadiness. Had she been presumptuous in assuming her job would still be available? Maybe after all that had happened, Maverick was just as ready as Sterling to put distance between their families.

She braced herself for the worst. Would he tell her to leave?

"I'm surprised to see you here." His tone was laced with frustration. Or was it defeat?

Her heart stirred with compassion even though she didn't want it to. "Your pa hired me to manage the mares, and that's what I intend to keep doing."

He didn't respond, but his expression said it all—the haggard drop of his chin, the weariness in his eyes, the lines grooved into his forehead. He probably hadn't slept any more than Sterling had.

Even though he looked like he'd been run over by a herd of cattle, he still was the most handsome man she'd ever met. It really wasn't fair that no matter what he went through, he always had an appeal about him that made a woman want to rush to him, throw her arms around his shoulders, and kiss him.

Of course, she didn't want to rush to him like that. But she couldn't deny his magnetism—never had been able to. She just had to put it out of her mind and focus instead on what he'd done to Sterling and Violet—how he'd ruined Sterling's chances at happiness. She couldn't forget that.

"So you don't mind working with the marriage wrecker?" His question held a note of bitterness, as if he'd just read her mind.

She drew in a steadying breath. "I can do my job without having to interact with you. In fact, it would probably be best if we keep our distance."

He released a short humorless laugh. "Probably."

Guilt pricked her. Her words had been unkind. He didn't deserve to be ostracized and punished by everyone. "I'm sure everything will be all right eventually." She offered the olive branch of peace, or at least as much of it as she could.

He shrugged as if to say he didn't quite believe her but stepped aside and waved her through.

She gave a final nod to Alonzo. Then she pushed forward past Maverick into the barn, letting the warmth and scent of horseflesh greet her. Even though it was like walking into her home, she had the unsettled feeling that nothing would ever be the same again.