VOLUME ONE: REDEMPTION
In the private cemetery on her family's ranch, Olivia Cattenach knelt by her brother's grave and brushed grass clippings from the headstone. Six months since Justin had been killed in action. Hard to believe. The loss was still as fresh as the day two soldiers had shown up at her front door with his tags and their condolences.
Worse than losing her brother, her best friend, was the reality of a life cut short at just twenty-eight. Tragedy didn't begin to cover it. One IED, one wrong step, and he was gone. Erased as if he'd never been here at all.
Knowing Aunt Mae was standing behind her at the wrought iron gate, waiting to start the day, Olivia sighed, took a sip of coffee from a travel cup, and tried to keep her morning visit short. But, damn. The sharp stab of loneliness pierced her stomach.
She glanced past his grave and that of her parents' to the northern pasture in the distance, teeming with long golden stems as far as the eye could see. "In another month, we can harvest the winter wheat and plant the spring."
Though the crop only encompassed one-hundred of their two-thousand acres, and it wasn't near the revenue as their other income margins, it had been Justin's favorite part of the ranch. Hands deep in the soil, wide open land, and silence.
His last days hadn't had any of those elements. Instead, he'd been in a decimated structure in the arid desert, surrounded by crumbling concrete. Guns, explosions, shouting...
She shook her head and eyed their house to her left, beyond the ridge where the cemetery was located. Merely a blip from her position. Justin used to race her from the cottonwood tree edging the iron fence, down the incline, through the wildflower garden, and to the three-story log cabin they called home. As the older sister by two years, she'd let him win, of course. Until he'd hit a growth spurt as a teen and grew taller than her by six inches. All legs, her brother.
A bitter wind blew across the range, bringing the faint scent of snow from the Laramie Mountains to the south. Sun beat down on the prairie grass to her right, over the eastern and southern passes. For mid-April in eastern Wyoming, the day was proving to be warm. Overnight temps had been in the forties, but it would probably hit the sixties by lunch. Not a half-bad start to a Monday.
Feet shuffled from behind, reminding her she couldn't sit idle talking to a ghost much longer. She eyed Justin's grave one last time and attempted a smile. "Love you. Say hi to Mom and Dad. I'll see you tomorrow."
The figure of speech made her throat burn as she rose and turned for the gate. Because she wouldn't see him tomorrow. Thanks to a commanding officer who'd made a bad call, she'd never see her brother again.
Aunt Mae waited patiently, one arm propped on the post, a to-go mug of coffee in her other hand. Sunlight hit her pure white strands, cut in a neat bob above her wide shoulders. Her craggy face had seen many rough winters, the fine lines a testament to her will, but her piercing blue eyes were as kind as her soul.
She'd grown up on the ranch and, twenty years ago, had stepped up when Olivia's mother and father had died. She hardly remembered her parents, scattered fragments of memories really, but Aunt Mae resembled Olivia's father down to her square chin and solid frame.
Olivia adjusted her fitted red flannel under her canvas jacket and stepped into Aunt Mae's brief embrace. The rustling of their clothing scratched the air as they separated, then they walked toward the house with Aunt Mae's arm slung over Olivia's shoulders.
She breathed in crisp mountain air tinged with frost and soil. "Nice morning."
"That it is." Her aunt glanced at her as their boots crunched over the gravel-strewn path. "Long walk to take every morning, though."
"You don't have to come with me." She often didn't accompany Olivia on her routine trek, and those were the days she'd found it harder to leave and get to the duties awaiting her.
"I don't mind. These old bones need the exercise." Aunt Mae dropped her arm, severing the connection, and glanced ahead. "I'll bet my bison stew recipe there's a certain foreman waiting for you outside the barn."
Olivia knew better than to accept that wager. "No doubt." Bright and early, Nakos always waited for her to round the bend from the cemetery trail. He usually put in a solid hour delegating duties before she even stepped off the front porch.
"He wouldn't make a bad husband, baby girl."
True. Olivia could do worse than Nakos Hunt. With the dark skin tone and black hair of his native Arapaho tribe, combined with solid bone structure and a handsome face, he'd definitely been conceived at the deep end of the gene pool. He was also hard-working, kind, and protective. Too protective, but she shrugged that off.
Thing was, there were no sparks. Appreciation, yes. Chemistry? No. Still, she was thirty years old, lived on the outskirts of town to which had few prospects, and if she wanted to carry on the family legacy, she needed to put serious thought into settling down with someone. She got along well with their foreman. He'd been the closest to a best friend she'd had since Justin died.
"I'll think about it." She took a sip of coffee.
"You've been thinking about it for months." Aunt Mae's eyebrows pinged. "The boy's had a thing for you since you were sixteen. How long are you going to make him wait?"
One more thing to add to the guilt pile. "It hasn't been that long."
"You're right. He's probably crushed on you since his family came to work for ours. I peg that somewhere around age nine."
Olivia laughed. "Okay, stop." She shoulder-bumped her aunt. "He hasn't exactly made a move." Not that she would've known what to do if he had. Nakos had always been placed in the what-if column in her someday mental file. Biological clock aside, she was hesitant to pull out the folder and dust it off.
"Who says the man has to do all the work? Show some initiative."
Yeah, yeah.
They walked in silence the rest of the hike, and just before she parted ways with her aunt, Nakos came out of the third barn with a clipboard in hand.
"Shocker." Aunt Mae winked. "Go get dirty, baby girl. And I mean the naked kind."
With a laugh, Olivia waved goodbye, watching her aunt take the long, winding path up to the house. She turned to find Nakos's dark eyes on her and walked closer. "Good morning."
He gave a nod, and the wind caught his short ponytail tied at his nape. "Hebe, Olivia."
Every morning, he greeted her with a hello in his native Arapaho tongue, and something about it settled the turmoil in her chest. Not that she minded change, but she preferred certain precious things to remain the same.
One corner of his mouth curved. "A smile looks good on you. Been awhile since I've seen it."
"Thanks. What've we got today?"
"You and I have spring shearing this week. The wool supplier's coming Friday for a pickup. I put four guys on counting and moving steer farther down the eastern pasture, two on horseback checking the southern fence-line, and another three on the northern ridge. We've had some trouble with pronghorn antelope eating crops."
That accounted for all her men. Nakos made ten. They hired additional seasonal help when needed, but until the wheat harvest, they were solid.
While Nakos consulted his clipboard, she studied him. Like her, he wore jeans and a flannel, but his coat was thick wool and he donned a black cowboy hat. At his six feet, she had to shield the sun with her hand and crane her neck to look at him. Clean-shaven, thick neck, defined shoulders, broad chest, and a narrow waist. She tried to wrap her mind around something romantic between them. All she could conclude was...maybe.
But why the hell not? She'd never know if she didn't grab an opportunity by the bootstraps. "Aunt Mae says I should get dirty."
He glanced at her. "Well, we could bypass the sheep and muck stalls. Then again, shearing's sweaty work."
Sigh. "She says the naked kind of dirty."
