Chapter Three
IAN MACKENZIE SADDLED UP ONE of his father’s quarter horses and took off down the trail that would lead him to the back part of the far pasture. His older brother Gavin, otherwise known as Mack, was working there. The MacKenzies had a big herd that needed to be moved to higher ground because of some forecasted heavy rains, but it had to be done slowly. They didn’t want the cattle to burn off too much weight before being sold by the pound. Loss of a single pound per head could mean the difference between feast and famine on the MacKenzie ranch.
Thirty minutes later, his older brother’s musical whistling cued him in to where he was, just behind a large rock outcropping, under some tall trees. Mack had gotten farther in his mission to move the cattle, and the ride had taken Ian much longer than he’d anticipated. He allowed his horse to pick its way around the scrub brush and larger rocks, its sturdy legs and muscular frame well adapted to the area’s rugged terrain.
“Yo, Mack!” Ian called out, making sure to announce himself so he wouldn’t spook his brother or his brother’s horse.
The whistling stopped abruptly. “Yo, Ian,” came the response, albeit in a decidedly less enthusiastic tone.
Ian rode around the side of the large barrier, finding his brother sitting in the saddle and staring out over the gorgeous valley below, his reins loosely wrapped around the saddle horn. His leather chaps that he wore over his jeans looked as old as the hills themselves. Ian made a mental note to buy his brother new ones for his birthday.
“I’ll never get tired of that view,” said Mack, reaching up to rub his sweaty head by wiggling his cream-colored cowboy hat around, his longish dark brown hair curling up at the nape of his neck. The strong muscles of his arm flexed and moved, calling attention to the deep tan he’d acquired from working without his flannel shirt on. “Why would anyone ever want to live anywhere else?” He abandoned the head scratching and rested his hand on his thigh. Turning to his younger brother, he gave him the look that used to make Ian beg for forgiveness when they were younger.
Ian breathed out a sigh of annoyance. “Some people find other things to live for besides ranching and carrying on old and tired traditions.”
Mack turned more fully to face his brother, his glowing, light blue eyes shining out from under his hat. This was the classic-old-West-cowboy-meets-GQ-model look that always got the girls in town all hot and bothered. Ian had spent a lifetime watching his brother duck and run from almost all of them. It was a damn shame, as far as he was concerned, that his brother was not only damn ornery but way too picky to boot. None of the girls in Baker City had measured up so far, and he’d pretty much run out of candidates. Even Hannah Pierce who’d been circling his brother’s ankles and making herself a complete nuisance since junior high wasn’t really in the running, much as she might like to think she was.
“Old and tired traditions?” Mack scowled. “Come on, Ian, that’s not fair. Those traditions put you through school, not to mention set you up to get married to Ginny in style, just like she always wanted.” He faced the beautiful view again and adjusted his seat in the saddle, the leather creaking as it moved. Reaching down to gather up his reins in his gloved hand, he began whistling again, doing a unique rendition of the song I’m Movin’ On by Rascal Flatts.
Ian knew the tune well. Their mother had been playing it everyday at home, wallowing in the sadness of losing her younger boy to the big city. Ian shook his head. Portland, Oregon was as small-town as a big city could possibly be, but his whole family was acting like he was going to the Big Apple never to be seen again. He and his soon-to-be wife Ginny had already promised to visit on every major holiday and two weeks during Christmas, but it hadn’t done anything to ease his mother’s suffering. All she could talk about was the grandchild who didn’t exist yet that she’d almost never see.
“I bought you a ticket today,” said Ian. “I came to tell you so you can pack and get in the shower before we leave for Boise. Plane takes off at four so we have to be there by three, no later.”
“I told you, I’m not goin’. Gotta get the herd moved before next week.”
“Boog already said he’d do it, and he owes you anyway, so just let him. And I need you, besides. You can take a break for once. You haven’t had a vacation in ten years.”
Mack urged his horse forward with a squeeze of his legs and a clicking sound inside his cheek. “You need me? In Vegas? Vacation? Yeah right, that’ll be the day.” The horse moved past the tree and along a grassy area below a tall hill - a mere bump compared to the mountains in the distance.
Ian gave his horse a light spurring, causing it to leap forward and cut his brother’s mount off.
Mack scowled. “Cut it out, Ee. You know I don’t have time to play with you right now. Stop acting like a fool.”
Ian smiled, whirling his horse around so he could crowd his brother and get him to react. This cold indifference wasn’t getting him anywhere. A challenge was the only way to get his brother to wake up and get involved in his life while he was still living it in Baker City. Ian saw this bachelor party in Vegas as Mack’s last chance to leave this town and see a little bit of the world before he turned into a hermit, just like their father. Twenty-five years old and he acted like he was fifty. Responsible. Mature. Serious almost all the time. Ian felt the life draining out of him just watching his brother in the saddle.
“Bet I can beat you to the top of that hill over there.” Ian lifted his chin once in challenge, knowing his brother wouldn’t be able to resist. Mack always had to run the fastest, jump the highest, and whistle the loudest. He was nothing if not competitive, and yet, he always managed to do it Cool Hand Luke style, with no one fully realizing how much it mattered to him to be on top. Stealth ego. Mack MacKenzie was all about the stealth ego.
“When are you going to give it up, Ian? You know you’re as slow as Methusela on a damn horse. All hat and no cattle. That’s why you want to run away to the city so no one will know your shame.” He chuckled. “There you can take the ankle express everywhere you need to go and forget about these pesky four-legged beasts.”
Ian rolled his eyes at the tired expressions that their father had been using since before they were born. It was scary how easily they were rubbing off on Mack, now that he was taking on the mantle of ranch manager. “No, I’m not as slow as Methusela, I’m faster than you, and I can prove it. Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is? Race me to the top of the hill.”
Mack looked over at him out of the corner of his eye, his gaze dropping to take in the horse under Ian’s saddle. Then he looked at the hill he’d have to climb, his eyes scanning the landscape between where his horse stood and there.
“What’s the bet?” Mack asked, shifting again in the saddle, getting a tighter grip on his reins, shortening them just the slightest bit.
Ian grinned, knowing triumph was nearly within his grasp.
“If I win, you go to Vegas. No bitchin’, no whinin’, no excuses. And you drink and you gamble and you womanize a little. Not a lot, just a little.”
Mack’s jaw bounced out a few times as he gritted his teeth, but he didn’t say no. Instead, he smirked. “And if I win, you stay long enough to go to Mom’s birthday party.”
Ian’s smile disappeared. “Aw, come on! That’s not fair! You know I have to start work in Portland before that!”
Mack shrugged, a genuine smile sliding out to greet the day for the first time. “Not my problem, little bro. You do what you gotta do.” He shrugged, all nonchalant, not a care in the world. “I don’t have to race today. You know I’m going to beat your ass anyway.”
“Screw that,” said Ian, kicking his horse hard and snapping its hind end with the long end of his reins. “Heeyah!” The beast leaped into action, almost throwing him out of the saddle. He blew a stirrup, but there was nothing he could do but hang on and hope for the best.