“We’ll pack up and come along in a bit.” Cheyenne half turned, watching Kevin and Win, waiting.

“We’ll ride back with you,” Kevin said. “We can help if you’ve got supplies to bring along.”

“Nope, not necessary. You go on.” Cheyenne decided Kevin was hopeless, so she looked at Win, wondering if her friend could possibly figure out that Cheyenne wanted another hour in her own home. Another chance to be alone with her husband before they gave up their privacy for a while.

Win blushed faintly. “We’ll see you at the ranch.”

“No, I don’t mind waiting,” Kevin-the-clueless said.

Falcon rolled his eyes.

“Kevin,” Win said sharply, drawing his attention.

“What?”

“Let’s go.” She turned her horse and rode off. As she’d obviously expected, Kevin came along, never willing to be separated from her.

Falcon laughed softly, probably afraid Kevin would come back and ask what was so funny.

He took her hand and dragged her toward the cabin. “We don’t have a single thing that needs to be packed. We even left clothes back at the RHR.”

“Just come along quietly, and nobody gets hurt.”

He laughed and moved faster toward the house.

Thirteen

Hawkins needed help badly. Wyatt saw that immediately when he led his horse into the barn.

Two men leaned against hay bales. Drinking coffee. While horses stood in dirty straw and cows outside mooed as if hoping for food.

Wyatt couldn’t find a clean stall in the whole, huge barn. And the wood was weathered. It looked like, even before so many of his men had been taken away, no one had bothered maintaining it.

“Who’s the foreman?”

“There ain’t one.” The man closest, chewing on a piece of straw, didn’t straighten away from where he slouched. Didn’t introduce himself. He sure enough didn’t have the grace to apologize for the state of things in the barn. “Zeke Bell ran the place until two weeks ago. He stuck it out after all the hands were dragged off. But when Hawkins couldn’t find more men and wouldn’t come out and work, Zeke got fed up and asked for his time.”

“And why did you stay?”

One of the loafers shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t care if the place runs or not. The boss stays to the house. No one gives me orders. Might as well stay around. Ain’t nothing hard about it.”

If Wyatt was in charge, the hardest thing might be his fist in this cocky layabout’s face. “Are there other men around?”

“A few. Five men besides us, all of ’em riding out to check the herd. But they’re grumbling.”