“Well, there ain’t no sense in you stickin’ around and learnin’ the rest of it now that I’m back. I imagine you’d like to go home and get back to your real life.”

Any humor fled Bran’s face. “I oughta send you home, since you’re here a week early. Harper is workin’ this week. Period. If you’ve got a problem with that, Les, best say so now.”

Les drained his coffee. “I don’t. But we don’t normally sit around shootin’ the shit when there’s work to be done. Let’s get to it.”

Did Bran always let Les boss him around? Given Bran’s bossy nature, and the fact that Bran was, oh, Les’s boss, she was surprised he put up with it.

The trio separated outside the big barn. Harper fed the goats while Les and Bran discussed whatever Les figured she didn’t need to know. By the time she returned, Les was waiting impatiently by the ATVs and chewed her out for lollygagging, which she hadn’t been. Apparently Bran had already gone to start moving the bulls. Les raced off, not waiting while Harper readied her ATV. And by the time she’d gotten through the first gate and closed it, she could barely see him. Since she’d been left with the oldest ATV, the one that frequently crapped out, she knew if she didn’t keep up, he’d lose her. That was probably Les’s intent anyway.

Since this was her virgin voyage on bull relocation duty, she wasn’t certain where Bran planned to move them. The morning air hung damp and sticky from last night’s rain, turning the fields into a mud bog.

It took all morning to drive the bulls to the far corner of the selected pasture. None of the bulls charged, which Bran warned her could happen. She hung back, yelling, “Yaw!” at the stragglers, getting them to mosey along. Another thing she learned? Bulls were never in a hurry.

Les ordered her to check along the upper fence line for breaks. She automatically looked to Bran to verify Les’s directive, but Bran was on the phone, gesturing wildly, while trying to round up the last bull.

With no alternative, she headed north, scrutinizing the barbed wire fence for any compromised sections. She kept up as quick a pace as she dared in an effort to prevent the ATV from getting mired in the muck, but she didn’t want to drive too fast lest she miss a broken segment of fence line.

The borrowed sweatpants stuck to her skin. Her fingers were curled so tightly around the ATV’s black rubber handle grips that her knuckles were pasty white. The whine of the engine and the concentration needed to perform three tasks at once took its toll on her. A screaming headache stabbed the inside of her brain about the same time the visibility dropped to nothing. Banks of fog played peekaboo between the fence posts. Harper stopped and squinted at the sky, wondering when the sun would appear and burn off the billows of mist.

It took a while.

By the time she could see more than six inches in front of her face, she realized she didn’t know where she was. She couldn’t hear the low hum of ATVs in the distance, nor the huffs she associated with livestock. Rather than panic, she whipped a U-turn and started back down the rolling hill, keeping to the fence line.

Nothing looked remotely familiar. But she kept plugging along, unsure how much time had passed, cursing herself for forgetting her cell phone.

Cursing Les for sending her off on a wild-fence chase.

The sun glinted off metal in the distance and she recognized a stock tank. As she sped toward it, she heard distinctive mechanical whines. Bran and Les crested the rise below the stock tank and waited until she reached them.

“Are you all right?” Bran demanded. “What happened?”

Harper inhaled, ready to spew ire at Les, but she snapped her mouth shut at the last second. The fog wasn’t Les’s fault. He’d probably only told her to do what Bran had passed down. Plus, how could she admit she hadn’t been paying the closest attention to the fence line when she’d been looking for the route back to the ranch? She couldn’t. She would come across as incompetent, and the last thing she needed was to furnish Les with more ammunition. She straightened her shoulders. “I was checking the fence and the fog rolled in. I couldn’t see anything, so I waited it out. Somehow I got turned around.”

Bran gazed at her skeptically. But he didn’t grill her further. They drove back to the ranch.

Quiet didn’t last long with Les around. Lord, the man loved to hear the sound of his own voice. He jabbered while they cleaned the mud off the ATVs. He kept up a running dialogue regardless if she or Bran answered him.

No wonder people questioned whether Bran ever talked. Why would he have to? Les said everything. Les knew everything. And Les acted as if Bran wouldn’t have his successful ranching operation if not for Les’s insight and expertise. It made her mad. If ranching was so easy, why didn’t Les take his expertise and start his own operation? But again, she said nothing.

By three o’clock, Bran had had his fill of his chatty ranch hand and sent him home. In fact, Bran insisted on calling Betty personally to come and fetch her brother.

Les fumed. As soon as he’d shuffled out to his sister’s Mercury Grand Marquis, Bran’s truck keys were in his hand and they were out the door and on the road to town.

Harper didn’t slide next to him. Neither did Bran reach for her hand or stretch his arm across the back of the seat to toy with her hair. Was he pulling away? Now that Les was back in the picture and the end was in sight?

Bran pulled up to the curb in front of her house and let his pickup idle, which meant he didn’t intend to come in. Bailey wasn’t home, and the notion of being alone in that crappy rental made her sadder yet. But she wouldn’t show it. She managed a smile. “Thanks for . . . last night.”