Saddled and Spurred: A Blacktop Cowboys Novel (37 page)

“You should be,” Les sneered.

Bran didn’t defend her this time.

Les said, “She was askin’ about her last check.”

Again, Bran just gave her that inscrutable cowboy stare.

Would it salvage her pride if she kept this businesslike? No. But it was all she had. “If you could just tell me when I can pick it up? At the accountant’s—”

“I’ll drop the damn check off at your house, Harper.”

“And what the hell are you gonna do with it when I’m not there?”
Stay calm
. “Just send the damn thing to my address. The post office will forward it to me.”

“Fine.” He rubbed his temple. “When are you leavin’?”

“I’m not sure. So you’ll be wanting these. Here”—she tossed him the keys and he caught them with one hand—“your truck is parked in front of the house.”

He gave her a cool appraisal before he pushed off from where he’d been leaning against his pickup. He spoke to Les. “Come on. We’ve gotta get a move on and fix this mess with the Hendersons.”

No good-bye. No anything. On wooden legs, Harper climbed in her car and drove off, without any idea where she was going.

Had she really come just for her check?

Jesus, that pissed him off.

He waited until her piece-of-shit car was on the highway before he stomped to the barn.

“Where you goin’?” Les demanded.

Bran didn’t respond. Livid, and more flustered than he cared to admit, he spun around and headed back the way he’d just come—straight to his truck. Ignoring Les’s shouts, he tore out of there, spewing gravel and curse words.

Goddammit. Contrary to Les’s opinion, Bran hadn’t blamed her for the bulls’ getting out. It’d been an ongoing problem and he hadn’t dealt with it because for too long he’d played the part of the laid-back rancher. No more would he let his clueless, less-than-neighborly neighbors dictate a stupid policy that no one else in their right mind would’ve agreed to.

No more. He would pin Stan Henderson’s ass to the wall, but not when he was in such a piss-poor mood.

He parked and got back to work digging post holes for a new fence. Hard physical labor that exhausted his body and drained his brain had always helped him deal with difficult situations in the past.

No. Harper was everything to him. Everything. He was absolutely sick about what had just happened. The minute he’d seen her car go by as he’d been working in the pasture closest to the house, he’d hauled ass back to the ranch. He’d intended to wrap her in his arms, then drop to his knees, right in the mud, and tell her he loved her. Beg her not to go. Ask her to marry him and stay with him forever.

But that confession wasn’t something he wanted to do in front of Les. Not because he was embarrassed to admit how he felt about her, but because Harper deserved better.

Infuriated with himself, he jammed the shovel into the ground with force, leaning into the work until he was almost horizontal, spraying soil everywhere as the metal tip clanged into a solid object. Dammit. He must’ve hit a rock. He dropped to his knees and reached in the hole. Definitely a rock, but what the hell . . . ?

His fingers plucked the object out of the hole and the metal glinted in the sun.

For chrissake. He’d been so focused on moving that rock he hadn’t noticed his cell phone had fallen into the hole. And he’d pulverized the damn thing.

Fucking awesome.

Now how was he supposed to get in touch with Harper? With her leaving, a phone call was the only way he could contact her.

No. As much as he needed to cool off before he talked to the Hendersons, that went double for how he needed to present himself when he tracked Harper down. He had to get a handle on what he was going to say to her. For once in his life, he wasn’t running off half-cocked. This was too damn important.

Bran swore and threw the mangled phone in the bed of his pickup. He pounded the shovel into the ground until he was coated with sweat and his back and arms ached, but the damn stubborn rock wouldn’t budge.

Hopefully, that wasn’t a sign of things to come.

T
he drive into Casper was a blur.

Harper found cheap lodging at the Super 8. She picked up the classifieds and checked out the job situation. As long as she didn’t mind working in the food industry she’d have no problem finding employment. Rent for a single-bedroom apartment was fairly reasonable, even if higher than her house in Muddy Gap.

But it didn’t make sense to drive back and forth just to save a hundred bucks on housing, especially if she ended up getting two jobs. She’d work, save as much money as possible, and figure out what she wanted to do with her life.

Her cell phone buzzed. Bailey texted her. Again. And once again, Harper didn’t answer. She wasn’t being petty; she’d said everything she’d intended to say at this point.

She flopped on the bed and turned on the TV. Cable was a luxury and watching mindless entertainment might take her mind off the feeling that her life had completely fallen apart.

As she snacked on pizza she’d had delivered to her room, and the two packages of M&M’s from the vending machine, her phone buzzed. Fifteen calls. Ten calls were from Bailey. One call was from Bailey’s friend Amy’s cell phone. Two calls from an unlisted number she assumed were from Liberty. One call was from Celia. One call was from Janie.

No calls from Bran.

That made her incredibly weepy and she ripped into another bag of candy. Sadly, even the best chocolate in the world would never compare to the way Bran made her feel.

She was considering turning her phone off completely when it buzzed a sixteenth time. The caller ID read:
Bernice Watson
. Harper had to answer, even if her wily sister had tricked her boss into calling on her behalf. “Hello?”

“Hey, sugar.”

“Hey, Bernice. What’s up?”

“My curiosity, I suppose.” Bernice coughed. “Bailey’s called me, oh, four or five times, wondering if I’d heard from you. I don’t think she believed me when I said I didn’t know where you were. She seemed pretty upset.” A whoosh of air echoed as Bernice exhaled. “Look, it probably ain’t my business, but did you two have a fight or something?”

“Or something,” Harper said dryly. “To be honest, I’m avoiding her until I get a better handle on the situation.”

“I understand completely. Anything I can do?”

“No. Real sweet of you to ask, Bernice. I appreciate it.”

“Well, I ain’t made no secret of the fact I worry about you, Harper. Care about you as if you were my own kid.”

Harper’s eyes watered and she managed a hoarse “Thanks.”

“Anyway, I am callin’ for my own reasons. I’ve gotta take Bob to the doctor in Cheyenne tomorrow and I’m scheduled to have the Beauty Barn open. I’ve canceled my clients, but I’m expecting a big shipment from a beauty supply store in Colorado in the afternoon and someone’s gotta be here to sign for it or else they won’t deliver. Since I paid the damn rush shipping charges . . .”

“Say no more. I’ll be back in town to open at noon.”

A pause. “
Back
in town? Where are you?”

“Casper.”

“You’re not at Bran Turner’s place?”

I wish.
“No. Since Les is all healed up, I’m done working for Bran, so I’m looking for a full-time job.”

“I’ll be back around five tomorrow, with a bottle of whiskey and two glasses so you can tell me just what the hell is goin’ on in your life that’s sent you running.”

Tears surfaced again. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Thanks, Harper.” Bernice hung up.

Harper set aside the classified ads. So much for filling out job applications first thing in the morning. She clicked off the TV and the light. She stared at the patterns in the acoustic ceiling tiles, listening to the clacking of the heater register for the longest time before she finally drifted off.

And she dreamt of him anyway. Foolish, girlish dreams that had no basis in reality—in her life or in the life of anyone she’d ever known. Sappy Disney dramas that always turned out perfectly in the end. The fact was, Bran wouldn’t barrel up to her crappy rental house in his dirty pickup, confess his undying love for her, and they’d drive off into the sunset together.

Another thing her silly dreams got wrong—she wasn’t looking for a man to rescue her. Or to take care of her. She wanted a man to love her for her. For who she was on the inside, not the outside. She’d hoped Bran was that man. He still might be. But she was too emotionally raw right now to find out.

So maybe it was childish the next day that she hid her car behind the Beauty Barn so neither Bailey nor Bran would see it.

Since Bernice had rescheduled her hair appointments, there wasn’t much for Harper to do, which drove her crazy. She’d never been the type to sit around. So she dusted. Vacuumed. Cleaned the smoky haze off the mirrors. Washed a load of towels. Cleaned the bathroom and the break room. When the inventory boxes arrived via the UPS man, she logged them in, but she didn’t unpack anything because Bernice preferred to do it.

She’d settled behind the front counter with her pen and the classified ads, waiting for Bernice to return, when the door chimed. Harper glanced up as Janie Fitzhugh sailed into the beauty shop.

“Please tell me Bernice is working,” Janie pleaded. She pointed at her own head of hair. “It’s awful, isn’t it? Looks like I brushed it with a currycomb.”

“I’m sorry—Bernice is gone. She’ll be here tomorrow.”

“But I can’t wait that long. I have business meetings, and I don’t know what to do with this stupid stuff besides shave it off.”

“Ack. Don’t do that. Do what I do.”

“What’s that?”

“Disguise it.”

“How?”

“Wear a hat or a scarf or a headband. Then people will believe you’re chic and classy or whimsical, not that you’re overdue for a haircut.”

Janie snapped her fingers. “That’s a great idea. Got any suggestions on how to help this mop of hair look chic?”

Harper considered Janie. From the accessories counter she selected a wide leather and metal headband with funky copper stars threaded through the elastic straps. “Try this.” She slid the ends of the headband behind Janie’s elfin ears, pushing the thickest part up her forehead. The headband tamed hanks of hair hanging in Janie’s eyes. “See how you like that.”

Janie angled the mirror to see Harper’s handiwork. Her mouth dropped open. “That looks fantastic. Wow. Totally fixed the problem. I could probably avoid a haircut for another month.”

“Which is why that’s not a trick I usually share with Bernice’s customers,” Harper said dryly. “Then again, Bernice’s Beauty Barn clients aren’t always open to something new.”

“Pity your talents are being wasted here, Harper.” Janie fussed with the hair behind the headband.

“Wasted. Right.”

“I’m serious. How much is this headband?”

“Fifteen bucks.”

“But I can only wear it with brown. So if I needed one to wear with a black outfit . . . ?”

Harper plucked another headband from the rack, one that was crafted of twisted metal, but lacked embellishments. “This one is simple and you can dress it up or down. For a casual look, twine a ribbon or a piece of fabric through the open metal if you want to match a specific outfit. For formal, you could clip earrings or other pieces of rhinestone jewelry across the top. Then it almost looks like a crown.”

“Says the beauty queen used to wearing crowns.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“See? Now you’ve sold me two headbands, which is more than I would’ve spent on the haircut.” Janie turned and gave Harper’s clothes a critical once-over. “My God. Do you always look so amazingly put together? You have such a fantastic fashion sense. Is that something they teach you at pageants?”