To Tame a Cowboy (Colorado Cowboys #3)(16)

Savannah had heard Flynn mention something about Dylan over breakfast and how he was drinking too much and getting himself in more gambling debt. From what she’d gathered, Dylan was the youngest brother and had developed a wild streak, which had given both Wyatt and Flynn trouble.

As Brody regarded the dead mustangs, he didn’t speak, but the muscles in his jaw flexed and his nostrils flared. The anger flowed off him like a thundershower. He pulled out his revolver, flipped open the cylinder, and checked the chambers. Then he closed and shoved it back into the holster on his belt. He lifted the coil of rope from the saddle and looped it around his shoulder.

“Once I’m downriver, I want you to hightail it to the fork and wait there for me.” He slid his rifle out of the scabbard and tucked it under his arm before his gaze locked on the opposite side of the ravine, where the shot had come from.

Ivy nodded.

When he turned to Savannah, the brown of his eyes was as rich and luxurious as the thickest and brownest of mink fur. “Promise to stay by Ivy?”

At the concern in his expression and voice, she could do nothing but acquiesce. “Of course.”

Brody surveyed the landscape again. Like Ivy, she had to trust Brody, that he’d do the right thing to keep the horses and himself out of danger.

But as he nudged his mount over the crest and guided it down the rocky descent toward the creek, Linnea’s warning from the previous evening wafted back: “At times he doesn’t know how to handle his confusion and anger.”

Was Brody throwing himself into the fray, knowing he was putting his life in peril but not caring? Maybe she and Ivy should go with him. At least with three of them, they’d provide a united front.

She pressed a trembling hand to her chest. “Ivy, he’s out in the open. What if they shoot him?”

“These here fellas won’t harm Brody.” Ivy narrowed her eyes upon an outcropping almost directly across from where they waited. “They might be bullies pawing for trouble, but they’re all horns and rattles.”

Savannah peered through the brush, trying to find the culprits, hoping Ivy was right.

“Ain’t that right, Jericho?” Ivy shouted, sitting up straighter on her horse. “You’re a big bully is all.”

“Thought I told you to go home, Ivy.” The reply echoed in the ravine. “A little girl like you shouldn’t be riding around out here by herself.”

“I ain’t a little girl no more. And I can go wherever I blamed want to.”

Silence filled the air, except for the calls of a broad-winged hawk flying overhead.

“You need to stop following me around” came the young man’s voice.

“I ain’t following you around, you arrogant cuss.” A flush moved into Ivy’s cheeks.

Savannah located a young man sighting down his rifle barrel at the mustangs. From what she could tell, he was a good-looking fellow a few years older than Ivy with a strong, lean body and brown hair showing underneath his hat.

“Brody’s goin’ down there and rounding up that herd,” Ivy shouted again. “You let him be, do y’hear?”

At that moment, Brody came into view, riding down an invisible trail into the ravine. His horse slid, causing a shower of gravel to cascade toward the creek.

Savannah sucked in a breath and whispered a prayer.

Another shot rang out, this one from a different area farther up. The bullet hit the creek, but the horses whinnied in fright nonetheless.

“Jericho, you tell those boys of yours to stop their shootin’.” This time Ivy’s voice rang out with anger. “Brody’s coming to get the mustangs, and you better let him.”

“You know you can’t save all the horses.”

“Won’t keep me from trying.”

“Blast it all, Ivy!” Jericho sat up and lowered his rifle. He glowered at her for long seconds before he rose, calling to two other cowhands hiding in the brush and boulders not far from his position.

Ivy released a whoosh of air, and Savannah hoped that meant the shooting was over, at least while Brody was out there.

As Brody’s horse reached level ground, he nudged it faster, uncoiling the rope as he went and twirling it.

Jericho tipped up his hat and leveled another glare at Ivy. “You’ll be the death of me, you know that?”

“Good.” She glared back.

He shook his head, frustration etched into his forehead and mouth. “Now go on home and stay there.”

A flash of hurt crossed Ivy’s face, but it happened so quickly that Savannah wouldn’t have noticed it if she hadn’t been watching Ivy.

Without giving Ivy a chance to reply, Jericho and his men scrambled upward and away. Meanwhile, Brody edged closer to the herd, circling around to one side. He remained calm and slow and steady. Rather than shouting or shooting and using fear to provoke the horses from the cove, he was clearly attempting to win their favor and trust.

For long minutes, Brody rode back and forth, flicking the rope and making eye contact as if speaking another language altogether. At first, the horses shied away, but eventually they stilled, watching him with more curiosity than fear.

Though Savannah couldn’t see Brody’s face since his back was mostly toward her, she could see the life and energy emanating from him. With the horses, he was fully alive just as he’d been last night with Flora. This glimpse of him again, at the man he was capable of becoming, gave her a fresh burst of hope. She never believed any creature too scarred or hurt to find healing, even if just a little.