King's Country (Oil Kings #4) - Marie Johnston Page 0,2

self-sustainable. I could grow it until it sustained me. What I couldn’t do was throw my livelihood away over one man’s hissy fit.

Marshall would have to understand. He’d see my side. He’d support me.

Right?

“Marshall—”

“Fuck, Bristol. Are you kidding me? You’re choosing a cow over me?”

“I—”

“No, if you can’t tell me that you’re on your way here right now, then I’m done. Done, Bristol.”

I blinked against the onslaught of his anger, against the urge to shrink into my coat, turn Bucket around, race to the RV I was living in, and hide.

“Bristol?”

I squeezed my eyes shut. The grind of Bucket’s hooves on the ground centered me. This was the right decision. “I . . . can’t.”

“All right, then.” He bit out the words and ended the call.

I stared at the phone and bit my lip, momentarily considering turning Bucket around and racing home.

Then what? I’d show up and he’d be pissed that I was wearing cowboy boots and had hat hair? Then I could be publicly shamed once again.

“Shit.” Nothing was happening until I found my cow. The task took my mind off the unexpected breakup.

It shouldn’t have been unexpected. I hadn’t even thought of Marshall when I’d saddled Bucket and headed out. Selfish like Pop. Wasn’t that what people said?

Daisy whined next to me.

“Follow the fence,” I said as if the dog could understand me. Daisy might. She was a smart creature. “There must’ve been a hole she escaped through. Let’s find it.”

The phone buzzed. I glanced down and scowled at the screen.

I can’t believe you.

He’d dumped me. He’d gotten the last word. Why the message?

Bucket started up an incline that normally wouldn’t give him problems, but the crunch of snow under his hooves filled me with anxiety. He shouldn’t be out in this. I needed to make a decision between the cow and my horse, and the cow wouldn’t win. I couldn’t do this job without Bucket. He was a good ranch horse.

My phone buzzed again. Another message or just the reminder buzz?

After this hill, the rest of the terrain wouldn’t be that bad. I’d moved all the cattle out of the pasture with the nasty ravine before Pop had died and before winter had set in. Pop had been too sick to get out of the house to know what I’d done. He’d refused every other time and my asshole neighbor Dawson had gladly called to berate me about the poor cows that had found their way into the ravine and hadn’t survived the trip.

He might’ve texted that message, but I knew Dawson well enough to infer the tone.

If he knew that I’d lost a cow ready to give birth, he’d have more choice words to give me. The guy had no inkling what it’d been like to ranch with Pop and I doubted he cared. He only cared that I was a Cartwright, and apparently that was enough to earn his hate.

The phone kept buzzing, but Bucket was close to the crest, his powerful body bunching and heaving to keep from slipping down the incline. I should stuff the phone back into my pocket and hold on with both hands. I should turn him back around and find a safer way down. My search for the cow was done.

And yet, my heart ached. Gritting my teeth, I clutched the phone in one hand and the reins in the other. “Come on, boy, you can do it.”

Daisy ran ahead and danced in a circle like she was cheering Bucket on.

Montana winters were brutal, but the last few years, there’d been stretches where temperatures reached nearly forty degrees. All it did was melt the top layers of snow and make it hard to get through the pasture on horseback. I should’ve thought of that before I risked cutting up Bucket’s legs.

“Almost there.”

Bucket’s sides heaved. If I had oats to spare, I’d rain them down on him when we got back. He deserved spoiling and I couldn’t do it nearly enough.

My fingers were stiff and the phone vibrated again, falling out of my hands.

I gasped and scrambled for it at the same time Bucket lunged over a particularly bad spot. He landed and bounced me in the saddle. I yelped, startling him just as he was primed for another lunge. He heaved and landed off-kilter by a section of fence that was loose. Barbed wire sprawled onto the land bordering mine.

Already thrown out of his calm, Bucket spun, tossing me from my seat. I was an experienced rider, and had