The work didn't slow down once the heifer was caught. Two more of Axel's buddies swung into action—one twin roping her head while the other expertly caught her horns. With the cattle finally moving, I led the way toward the chutes. The moment she was pinned, I slipped my loop off and gave her a sharp whistle. She bolted into the squeeze, and the others untangled their ropes, moving back to the sea of red hides and rising dust.
I left the calves to the boys and went for the herd bull. He was an old veteran of the ranch, his massive shoulders scarred from years of dominant living. I didn't need a heavy hand with him. I just whistled low, lazily looping my lariat to guide him away from the frantic cows.
Once we were a safe distance away, I slid out of the saddle. I dropped the reins, knowing Twist would stay put, and walked right up to the mountain of muscle. "Hey, big guy," I murmured, reaching up to hold him by the ear. To anyone else, he was a thousand pounds of danger; to me, he was still the bottle-baby I'd raised. I checked his eyes and nose, then pried his mouth open to inspect his teeth.
"You need a pedicure," I muttered, noting his overgrown hooves. I led him by a simple neck-rope to the station for vaccines and a trim before turning him back out.
The rest of the day was a blur of sorting calves and dodging protective mamas. I ate my lunch in the saddle, watching the sun begin its slow dive behind the treeline. Just as the light turned amber, Grandpa rode up beside me.
"Go find tomorrow's bunch, Cam," he said, tipping his hat.
"Yes, sir."
Once I was out of sight of the main house, the heat finally became too much. I pulled my shirt off, tucking it into my saddlebag and letting the breeze hit the skin of my back, leaving me in just my sports bra. I let Twist drink his fill at the stock tank while I soaked my sweat rag, tying it back to keep my short hair out of my eyes.
I found the south herd by eight o'clock, drifting them toward the water. After one final lap to ensure they were settled, I pulled my shirt back on and headed for the barn. It was empty when I unsaddled Twist, his dapple-grey coat damp with sweat. I gave him a quick brush-down before handing him off to a ranch hand and making my move.
I didn't want to face the gauntlet of cowboys in the living room. I climbed the trellis like I had a thousand times before, slipping into my room through the window. After a long, scalding shower, I peered out my door. Grandma hadn't left me any supper—likely too busy feeding Axel's small army.
I waited until I heard the heavy thud of the front door and the receding voices of the guys heading out to the bunkhouse. Then, I sprinted.
The kitchen was a disaster zone. A mountain of dishes sat in the sink, and since it was my week for chores, I couldn't ignore them. I was mid-rinse, the steam from the water clouding my vision, when the fridge door opened behind me.
"Need some help?"
The voice was a deep, rich baritone. I jumped, and the ceramic plate in my hand hit the floor, shattering into a web of white shards.
"Don't move," the voice commanded. "I'm not going to try anything."
I froze as a tall figure stepped through the glass. Before I could protest, large hands gripped my waist. He lifted me effortlessly, swinging me up onto the kitchen island as if I weighed nothing.
"Stay put," he said, turning to grab the broom. In the light of the stove-hood, I realised it was one of the twins. Colt, I thought, though I couldn't be sure. He was striking—all sharp jawline and steady eyes. He swept the glass with practised ease, checking the floor twice. "Sorry for scaring you. I didn't mean to do that."
He looked up at me, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. "Do you want any help with the rest of these, ma'am?"
"No," I managed, my heart still hammering against my ribs. "I've got it."
"Alright. I'll head back out. Hope to see you around more." He winked and disappeared out the back door.
I slipped off the counter, my skin still buzzing where his hands had held my waist. I went back to the sink, determined to finish, when the door opened again.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you," a second voice said.
I turned, expecting the same man, but this one was different. He was thinner, his voice an octave higher, though his face was a mirror image of the first. This had to be the other twin—Cash. He gave me a polite nod before grabbing a bottle of water and heading back out.
I finished the kitchen in record time and retreated to my fortress. They were both good-looking—dangerously so—and surprisingly, they were the only ones who had treated me like a person all day.
As I curled up with my book, I wondered which one would be waiting at the chutes tomorrow.