Counting On The Cowboy. Shannon Taylor Vannatter

rounded the goat pen, found a bucket near the chicken coop with seeds in it, opened the wire door of the pen, and jogged back to the huge bird. But not too close.

      “Look what I got, big fella.”

      The rooster cocked his head, strutted in her direction. Faster than she was comfortable with, but she still had the broom. She backed all the way to the pen, then threw the bucket inside. Thankfully, the rooster went in and she fastened the door in place.

      She blew out a big breath, closed her eyes, leaned her forehead on the hand that was still holding the broom.

      A noise behind her. She jabbed the broom as she spun around.

      And almost gouged Brock in the chest.

      His arms went up in a defensive stance. “I never would have pegged you for having such impressive rooster wrangling skills.”

      She dropped the broom, covered her face with her hands. “Sorry. I thought Rusty had a friend.”

      “I doubt he has any with that attitude. Whoa! Get back in there.” Brock scooped up the broom, darted around her. “No wonder he got out, there’s a hole in the pen.”

      By the time she turned around, Brock had the broom clamped over the hole. The rooster flapped his wings and crowed, but at least he wasn’t going anywhere.

      “That’s weird.” Brock knelt, inspected the wire.

      “What?”

      “It’s been cut. With wire cutters.” He ran his fingers along the slit. “See how it’s crimped—dull wire cutters do that.”

      “Why would someone cut the wire?”

      “I have no idea. But probably for the same reason they’d bring a live trap full of mice to the cabin.”

      “Huh?” She shuddered. “Someone opened the trap you set?”

      He told her about the extra trap and chasing the man he’d dubbed Ball-Cap into the woods.

      “He broke in?” Her voice cracked. “Do you know who he was?”

      “I couldn’t get a good look. He was too far away. But I don’t know many folks around here, anyway.”

      “So someone’s been bringing mice to the fishing cabin. And they cut the wire, so the rooster would get out. Why would anyone do that?”

      “I’m not sure. But once I get this wire fixed, we need to tell Chase. Can you hold the broom while I find something to repair the hole?”

      “Sure.” She took the broom from him. As soon as he stepped away, the rooster flapped at the hole. But she kept him at bay.

      Brock hurried back with a spool of wire and cutters. He threaded the wire to make a seam across the hole, with the rooster flogging the broom through the whole procedure. By the time the repair was finished, she was shaking.

      “That should keep him.” He raised up, took the broom from her. “Hey.” His hands settled on her shoulders. “You okay?”

      “I just don’t know who would want to hurt Landry and Chase. She can’t handle this.”

      “We won’t tell her. But Chase has to know someone has it out for this place. Maybe he’ll know who we’re dealing with. Or it could be teenagers playing pranks. Whoever it is, we’ll get to the bottom of it. And it’ll be okay.” He squeezed her hand.

      Gentle, calloused palm. Soothing, comforting. And suddenly, the effect the cowboy’s touch had on her was much more worrisome than dude ranch hijinks.