Help out an author with your feedback ~ Lorraine Nelson

 

Hello to all who enjoy dropping in and contributing to “Cowboy Kisses”. It’s my turn to post today and I have a request. Below is the first chapter of a book I’m currently working on and I’d like you to read it and give me some honest feedback (even if it hurts!). LOL

Do you like the characters?

Does the story start strong enough?

What do you like or dislike about it?

If it’s not written clearly or is confusing in any way, could you let me know what I could do to make it better?

And, heaven forbid, if you see edits I’ve missed, please let me know. Thank you.

Lorraine Nelson

Chapter One

The Brazos River Cattle Ranch, North of Granbury, Texas

Kaylynne Harper-Brown leaned back on her heels in the mud and dirt, pausing briefly to wipe the sweat from her brow. She’d been filling sandbags for hours and there seemed to be no end in sight. The heavy rains were still falling, threatening the livelihood of her family as well as neighboring properties.

It was a dirty, backbreaking job and they had to work fast to beat the rising floodwaters. The crew she was on had worked tirelessly to secure about a mile of riverbank, thereby saving her parents’ farm. Now they’d moved to another low-lying area in danger of flooding.

She glanced over at her son, leaning on his shovel, a frown creasing his forehead as he looked toward the river. Kaylynne was proud of him and his determination to help. At twelve years old, he’d worked as hard as any man or woman there. He’d been at her side from the start, working tirelessly to save their farm. “How are you holding up, Jamie?”

“I’m good, Mom,” he said as he turned back to her, “but I sure wish the rain would let up.”

“Yeah, me too.” She rose to her feet, stretching out her legs to relieve the cramps. “My turn to shovel.” Jamie held the next bag open while she shoveled it full, then tied it off as he grabbed another bag. Another pair of hands, gloved and much larger, reached to pick it up and place it on the makeshift dam. She looked up into blazing blue eyes and quickly averted her gaze as she felt her stomach plummet alarmingly. Brett Rawlings was back.

“Hi, Kaylynne. Thanks for coming to our rescue.”

He spoke loud enough to be heard over the rushing water and the heavy equipment in use shoring up the bank with large boulders in the hard to access areas. His voice still had the power to make her knees go to jelly.

“No thanks necessary. When did you get home?”

“A few days ago, but I’ve been busy moving ranch stock further inland, away from the worst flooding areas.”

She nodded and began filling another bag, her thoughts in turmoil. He’d been gone a long time, but one heated glance from those penetrating blue eyes and her heart was all a flutter. That way lay danger and heartbreak. Better to keep her mind on the job at hand. But why, oh why, did he have to come back when she resembled a mud wrestler?

“Who’s your helper?” Brett asked as he swung the next bag up over his shoulder.

“My son, Jamie. Jamie, this is Brett Rawlings. His family owns this ranch.”

“Hi, Mr. Rawlings.”

Kaylynne could tell by his suspicious glance at Brett that he wasn’t impressed. His next words confirmed it.

“You just now coming to help?”

Brett glanced down at the boy, his cowboy hat dispersing a rivulet of water. “Yes, I had to secure the ranch and the animals first.”

Jaime just shrugged his shoulders as if to say, “Whatever,” and tied off the filled bag he was holding.

Much to Kaylynne’s chagrin, Brett stayed and worked beside them, tossing the heavy bags on the dam as if they weighed nothing. Wherever he’d been, he hadn’t lost any muscle. His blue jeans, rain and mud soaked as hers were, clung to him like a second skin, but his slicker prevented her from ogling his upper body. Just as well, given the circumstances.

It was late in the day when the Fire Chief, Eric, called a halt. They’d saved another spread.

“Where to next?” someone asked.

“Home,” said Eric. “I just got word that the river’s threatening to take out the bridge into town. Anyone needing to cross had better get moving.”

“Thanks, everyone. My family truly appreciates the help you’ve provided us,” Brett called.

A general exodus ensued. Jamie took the shovel from her overworked hands and they walked toward where they’d left the truck parked. Kaylynne was surprised when Brett stepped up beside them.

“Will you make it home all right?”

She glanced his way and noticed the look of concern plastered across his features. “I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time, Brett. We’ll make it home.”

He stopped dead in his tracks, but she continued walking with Jamie until they reached the truck. She felt his heated gaze on her back, watching her as she climbed inside without once looking back…but damn, it was hard.

***

 Brett stood looking after them until the truck was lost to sight. Frustrated, he reached up a hand to scratch his head, knocking his hat askew. A rivulet of cold rainwater flowed down his back, reminding him that his work here was done, for now. He had to go check on the herd again. The storm had forced him to move the cattle to a higher pasture, but he hadn’t had time to ride the fence line. If a section was down, it could mean disaster for ranch stock if they managed to get entangled in the barbed wire, and for the farmer on the next spread. That is, if the weather hadn’t already destroyed his crops.

He strode to where he’d left his horse tied to a low-hanging branch and, putting one foot in the stirrup, swung his other leg up and over. He’d never wanted to be a rancher, but damn, it felt good to be on a horse again. Starlight whinnied his excitement as Brett gave a flip of the reins. The black stallion reared his head and took off, his sure-footed strides covering the ground as fast as any vehicle could in this downpour, maybe even faster. Brett slowed when they reached the ranch yard, deciding to grab a bite to eat before setting out for the high country again. His mother was in the kitchen when he entered.

“Brett, you’re soaked to the skin. You’ll catch pneumonia if you don’t soon change into some dry clothes.”

“Can’t yet, Ma. Gotta take a run back up to the north pasture and check the fencing.”

“It’ll take hours for you to ride those lines. Better eat first. Go wash up.”

Brett smiled crookedly. To her, he would always be a little boy. “Yes, Ma.”

He washed up and decided to change clothes anyway. Might as well be comfortable for the first leg of his journey. When he returned to the kitchen, she had a steaming mug of coffee waiting for him and had filled a plate with her hearty, homemade beef stew. A basket of biscuits sat in the middle of the table. “Smells good. Thanks, Mama.”

“I’m packing a lunch and a thermos of coffee to take with you, just in case you’re out longer than expected.” Concern was etched on her expression as she turned to him. “You remember where the line shacks are?”

He swallowed a mouthful of food and took a sip of coffee before answering. “Yes, Mama.”

“Why don’t you take one of the ranch hands with you?”

“I thought about it, but they’ve all worked hard moving cattle and securing the riverbank. They need rest.”

“So do you.” She sighed. “But still, it needs to be done. We can’t afford to lose any more cattle.”

“Any more? How many have you lost?” This was the first he’d heard of a loss. “When?”

“Your father was concerned about the drop in the herd. He was working long days and even longer nights, staying out to keep an eye on the herd. Doc thinks that’s what brought on his heart attack.” Miriam sniffed and wiped a tear from her eye with the corner of her apron. “Thank God his horse knew the way home.”

He rose and gathered her into his arms, comforting her as best she could. Normally an effusive, independent woman, she’d been devastated by his father’s death. Barry Rawlings had only been fifty-seven. Always in perfect health and excellent physical condition, his heart attack had hit a devastating blow. “I’m sorry, Mama. I should’ve been here to help out.”

She pushed away from him then, placed a loving hand on his cheek, and spoke. “You had your own path to travel. I understood that, Brett, even though your father didn’t, at least at first. But you are our only son. He never stopped missing you and left you the ranch, hoping you’d come back.”

Her words hit home, filling him with an equal sense of pride and bewilderment that his father would do that. True, he and his father had made their peace over the years, but he’d always made it plain that he regretted Brett’s choice of becoming a lawyer. “No way. Why would he leave it to me? The ranch is yours.”

“No, I have a home here for as long as I live, but the ranch is now yours. That’s the way he wanted it.”

“So that’s why you wouldn’t sell.”

“I couldn’t. I wouldn’t anyway. This is the only life I know. Town isn’t for me. Besides, I have the children to consider.”

“Speaking of which, where are the little rascals?”

She smiled fondly. Brett knew taking care of her grandchildren wasn’t easy for her, but those kids gave her the strength to keep going. She’d said so many times in the past few days.

“They’re in the barn with Mimi’s latest litter. I swear that cat has populated every home in the county with her offspring.”

Brett chuckled as he resumed his seat at the table and finished eating. “That was a terrific meal, Mama. Thanks. I need to pack a change of clothes and head out while there’s still daylight.”

“Don’t forget to grab your lunch and thermos on your way out the door. It’s in that Ziploc bag on the counter.”

He nodded as he headed for the hallway and the steps leading to the second floor. It didn’t take long to pack a change of clothes. They kept the line shacks supplied with bedding, towels, and necessities, so if he had to stay out on the range tonight, he would be comfortable enough. His mother was nowhere in sight when he returned to the kitchen, so he grabbed his lunch and went outside.

Shawnda and Erik, his sister’s kids, came running to escape the downpour.

“Hi, Uncle Brett. Where you going?” asked six-year-old Erik as they reached the covered verandah. The boy had the red hair, freckled features, and rugged build of his father.

“Gotta go ride me some fence line, sport. Mama tells me we have cattle missing and I’m about to find out why.” Erik’s hat tilted back as he looked up. “You two better get inside and into some dry clothes. Your grandma has dinner ready.”

“Okay, see you Uncle Brett,” said eight-year-old Shawnda as she ushered her brother inside.

Shawnda was tall and willowy for her age. And beautiful, in a fresh, country-girl kind of way. If Robert and Brenda had survived the accident, they would be so proud of those two.

Brett crossed the ranch yard to the barn. One of the ranch hands had curried his horse and he looked ready for another run. “Thanks, Oscar,” he said as the man finished cinching the saddle. Brett tied his waterproof duffle across the horse’s back. His lunch and thermos he placed in the saddlebags.

Oscar watched as he secured his supplies. “Where ya headed, boss?”

“The north pasture. Probably won’t be back until late tomorrow.”

“You want that I should go with you?”

“Not this time, Oscar. If there are a lot of repairs that need doing, I’ll be back to put a crew together.”

“Ride safe then.” He tipped his hat in farewell.

Brett led the horse outside, stepped into the stirrup and threw a leg over, mounting in one fluid motion. “Come on, Starlight. Time’s a wastin’. Giddy up, boy.” Starlight needed no further encouragement, the slightest tug on the reins guiding him in the right direction as he cantered through the muddy yard. When they reached the pasture, Brett let the reins go slack to allow the horse to have his head, and they raced over the acreage, defying the weather and the discordant accompaniment of thunder crashing in the distance.

He slowed Starlight to a walk as they approached the north pasture, swinging to the left to follow the fence. They were already losing daylight and the nearest line shack was a mile away. He’d only traveled a short distance when he spied a sagging stretch of barbed wire. One of the posts had broken off at ground level and would have to be replaced. Brett dismounted, grabbed a roll of red ribbon from the saddlebag, and cut off a strip with his jack knife, tying it to the line as a marker.

The rain had let up some, so he walked with the horse the next little way, finding a section of broken line. He marked it as he had the other one, then mounted up and rode farther down the line. He came to a heavily treed area and dismounted to better see the line where it weaved through the shrubbery. No problems there, but it was getting difficult to see in the fading light.

A swift glance ahead told him he wasn’t far from the line shack. It was positioned among the next stand of trees. He dug a flashlight out of the saddlebag and continued walking. If he could finish scouting this section before full dark, he wouldn’t have to back track in the morning.

Finally, he secured his horse in the lean-to near the cabin and trudged up the steps. He set the saddle and supplies on the floor, found a woolen blanket, and took it back outside with him. He spread it over Starlight to help counter the effects of the storm, then grabbed an armload of wood before returning inside. Someone had stocked the wood box with kindling and birch bark, so it wasn’t long before he had a fire in the fireplace burning brightly. One more trip out to the spring and he had a bucket of fresh drinking water.

He started the wood stove in the kitchen and put a pot of water on to boil. Once heated, he washed up and changed clothes, laying the wet ones over the backs of chairs he’d placed in front of the fire. They’d be dry by morning. Brett picked up the thermos and lunch bag before sitting in the only armchair. High-backed and firm, it had seen better days, but its comfort hadn’t diminished over the years. Now he truly felt as if he was home.

The crackle of the fire made the small cabin feel cozy. It was only one large room, with bunk beds off to one side and a kitchenette at the other end. He bypassed the coffee and settled for a glass of cold spring water to quench his thirst as he ate. His thoughts turned to Kaylynne. She was even more beautiful than he remembered, but that prickly, ‘hands off’ attitude really got to him. Was she still mad at him for leaving? He snorted a laugh. She hadn’t stayed angry for long, not if she could marry his best friend mere weeks after he’d left. Maybe she hadn’t loved him at all.

Tired from the energy expended this day, he started to doze off. He rose to his feet, made the bed, stoked up the fires against the dampness, then stripped and crawled between the sheets. Sleep claimed him almost immediately.

The fire had burned out when Brett was jerked from a sound sleep by the sound of an engine. He slipped on his jeans and crossed to the window, peering out around the corner of the curtain. A semi pulling a stock trailer drove past, not slowing or stopping.

Brett finished dressing, pulled on his boots and outerwear, then grabbed his gun and, opening the door, slipped quietly into the darkness beyond. His heart pumped furiously as adrenalin kicked in. If he was dealing with rustlers, he could be heading for trouble, but he had to know. He wished his cell phone worked out here so he could call for back-up.

The truck slowed to a stop quite a distance from the cabin and a man jumped down from the passenger side. Brett stayed within the shadows, getting as close as he dared, and watched by the meager light of the truck’s tail lights as the man opened the rear door and let down a ramp. He went inside the trailer and reappeared leading two fully saddled horses.

The driver left the truck running, turned on overhead floodlights, and jumped down to join his friend. They rode off into the herd, lassoed two of the Brazos Ranch longhorns, and led them to the truck. The men secured the cattle to a nearby tree, grabbed two more ropes, and headed out to repeat the process.

Brett had his answer as to where their cattle were going, and it wasn’t anything to do with the fences. Damn! They were definitely rustling Brazos cattle. Brett wondered if he could get close enough to get the plate number off the truck and trailer. If he got caught, he could end up face down in the mud…dead. He paused to wonder if his father had happened upon them, causing his heart attack. It seemed more than likely.

The men came back with two more head of cattle and rode off again. It’s now or never. Brett kept to the shadows and the density of the surrounding bushes as he made his way to the vehicle, groaning his frustration at not having pen or paper. He pulled up his shirt, picked up a muddy stick and did his best to write the number on his stomach, hoping it wouldn’t smudge. He eased the shirt back over it, then heard the horses returning. Brett hid amongst the trees and waited for them to ride off again.

“It’s too muddy and wet tonight, Callan. I’m shiverin’ in my boots,” said one of the men.

“I’m not sure when I can get the trailer again. You sure you don’t want to grab a couple more while we’re here?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Let’s load up and be off.”

“Okay, boss.”

Brett watched as they rode their horses into the truck, each hauling a steer behind them. Two more trips and they emerged to close up the trailer and jump in the cab. The truck circled in the field to turn around and Brett almost panicked when the bright floodlights shone in his direction. When it kept going, he breathed a sigh of relief, watching as it turned south onto the county road.

Brett retraced his steps, heading for the cabin. How did they know he’d moved the stock to the north pasture? Who was Callan? Was that his name or a nickname? And who the devil was he working for? How did they even know of the north entrance? The men hadn’t seemed at all familiar, but he’d been gone a long time.

The entire community was hard at work trying to save their homes and livelihood from the massive flooding, and here they were, stealing from them. His angry strides ate up the distance as he advanced on the line shack.

Once inside, he closed the door and lit the oil lamp sitting on the table. He shivered. He’d only brought the one change of clothes and he was soaked. Brett checked the items hanging in front of the fire. Still damp. He stirred the coals to life and added more wood, then found a length of rope and secured a makeshift line from wall to wall. He stripped and draped his wet clothes over the line, hoping they’d dry by morning. Wrapped in a blanket, he laid back down for what was left of the night. His watch…his waterproof Rolex…was no match for the season’s downpour. It had stopped at a quarter to ten and Brett knew it was much later than that.

He didn’t think he’d sleep with his newfound knowledge of the rustling, but his body knew better. When next he opened his eyes, it was morning, and the sun shone bright through the dusty windows. The rain had finally stopped.

Brett yawned and stretched, then rose to gather his clothing and get dressed. A quick check resulted in the thermos of coffee having gone cold, so Brett dumped it in a saucepan and set it on the stove to heat. After stepping outside to answer the call of nature, he returned to finish the packed lunch his mother sent with him and down his coffee. He tidied the cabin and headed out to saddle Starlight. They were going home to report the rustling, and by God, if the rustlers had caused his father’s death, he’d insist on murder charges being laid.