Welcome! Just a quick note that this is book three of the West Brothers Series. the first book is Western Heat which you can find on my author profile as part of the Paid Stories program, and book two is Western Connection, also available to read in Paid Stories.
You can read Western Flame on its own, but if you want the full story, I do recommend reading the first two books beforehand! I hope that no matter what order you read the books in, you enjoy them!
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Tanner took a long pull of the semi-hot coffee he'd picked up from the concession stand and eyeballed the crowd. The wooden seating around the livestock auction pit groaned as everyone filtered in, steaming breath mixed in through the conversation and laughter echoing off the walls. It was cold today, the air crisp and clear. Mid January deep freeze was well underway.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, but he ignored it. He didn't want to deal with whatever it was. He hated the damned thing, but it was necessary to have one for business these days. Always available, always a crisis to solve. It buzzed again, and he grudgingly dug it out of his coat pocket.
Jake was asking about the feed ledgers from last year. He typed 'In the file cabinet' and shoved the phone back in his pocket.
He wanted to just focus on getting his cattle sold. He didn't want to think about margins, yields, planning spring crops, or looking at schedules to rotate in for calving or whatever emergency needed his attention now. Jake, his older brother, handled most of that, but when a decision needed to be made that affected the day to day, he always sought out his advice.
Jake was a good businessman, but his former life as a New York City chef was not exactly the skillset needed to run a ranch. Thank God for Liz —Tanner and Brady's adopted sister and now Jake's wife— for her part in helping him learn the ropes. Tanner didn't have a lot of patience to teach him on the best of days. They were too much alike, their father's personality strong in both of them, even though Jake grew up never actually knowing Brett.
"Rowan says we're twelfth in the order," Harry said, elbowing Tanner out of his thoughts as the older man joined him. The bench creaked as he sat, and Tanner shifted over.
"Twelfth? Alright," Tanner replied. That was a good place to be, and he wondered if Harry had talked to one of the wranglers out back to get them in before the big producer lots went through. They had registered late, because he'd wanted to get a bit more weight on the steers he wanted to put through.
"Should be a good day. See some big feedyard reps," Harry added. "Plus, it's January. Folks tend to lose their heads just after Christmas, when they bid."
Tanner's head cattle man had been doing this a long time. Before Brett died almost two years ago, Tanner would come with him, but was always relegated to the back lots helping the crew get the head into the pens. Harry knew everyone working the lots, and loved to talk. Now, just like his father had operated, Tanner didn't have to schmooze. Harry did it for him.
Tanner picked out the suits from the big producers easily as he went back to watching the crowd. You could tell who they were, with boots that hadn't seen the outside of an office and expensive puffy winter jackets glaring against canvas overcoats, beat up Stetsons, and Wranglers. They always looked slightly out of place, afraid to get dirty.
"Had a look at that bull the Bar C is puttin' through later," Harry remarked to him as the PA system squealed to life. "I think he's worth bidding on if the price stays reasonable. He's only got one calving under him, but his rates look good."
"We'll see what he starts at. Don't need to overpay for the bloodline we can get private for less," Tanner grunted back. "Odd time to put a bull through. Any reason?"
"I think they're tryin' to slim their herd, is all. Been a tight winter for them."
It happened. Ranches needed to liquidate to cover unexpected expenses all the time. They'd had to do some of that when Brett died. Thankfully beef prices had been up, and the crop yield had been generous.
Tanner was thinking he would add the bull to his summer-pastured grass-fed herd. For the past three years he'd been selling direct to smaller beef processors who had contracts with niche supermarkets throughout Alberta and BC. He got more per kilo for those head than he did for any of the others they'd sell on to feeder lots or larger producers. It also used some of their land better now that the crop revenues were dropping. Besides, people loved the idea of grass-fed beef, even if they didn't understand what it meant, exactly. All beef was grass fed, just for how long, and what form it took was a different matter.
Every sale at Wild Rose Auctions started with a moment of silence for veterans, and Tanner stood with everyone else, the stands groaning once again. Hats in hands, they bowed their heads, then the national anthem played. Tanner shifted on his feet and eyeballed the livestock chute impatiently, never one to like standing for long with his eyes closed. A few latecomers vaulted into their seats as everyone sat back down, paddles coming out into hands.
Tanner pulled his out of his inside coat pocket and thumbed the edge of the warped, scratched plastic, memories etched into the surface. His dad's number. They'd been coming to Wild Rose since he was a kid. The first time Brett had let him wave this paddle, they'd bought a lot of ten breeding heifers. Brady'd waved it for the first time when they'd bought a horse that Brady named Baron and had loved more than life.
All the long-time ranchers in the area had their own numbers. It was a tradition. When his dad died, he simply just asked the secretary for the number the next time they attended. She gladly handed him the paddle, levering off it's hook on the wall. The label said West Line - Brett. They hadn't changed it yet. Tanner didn't want them to.
Harry patted his shoulder. "Don't look so serious. You're scaring away the wildlife, son. If we don't snag this one, there'll be others. Always is."
Tanner snorted a chuckle out. Harry could make light in the oddest of moments, but he appreciated it all the same. Harry was like an uncle to both him and his brother as they grew up, along with Keith, the former stable manager who'd come back into their lives last year with the discovery that he was, in fact, Brady's real father.
Tanner shoved aside the navel gaze he was diving into, his brain wandering more than it should. He needed to focus on today, not the drama of the past year and a half. It had been a nightmare to deal with, and he was glad most of it was resolved.
"You good, son? I can handle this if you need to get some air," Harry said quietly as they sat.
"I'm good," Tanner clipped, annoyed to be caught with his head up his own ass again.
They focused on the lot card and the first of the cattle that were being herded into the ring. The auctioneer with his nasal auctioneer chant, the bid callers whistling and pointing, the odd shouted "Yep!" from the crowd. It was lively today, and as the inside air warmed up, Tanner relaxed, letting the rhythm of the bidding and lowing cattle settle his nerves.
The fifth lot of feeders sold for a good price, and as the wranglers herded them out the exit chute, a loud, happy laugh echoed over the burble of the crowd towards where he was sitting.
Tanner froze. He would know that laugh anywhere, and he cursed under his breath and turned involuntarily to the side of the arena where it had come from. There she was, just one more reason why his nerves were on edge, his thoughts a jumbled mess with all they'd been through.
Liana Friggin' Forbes.
Ever since Caitlin —Brady's fiancee— had come into their lives with Keith as his nurse, Liana had been there too. Not that Caitlin was a problem, in fact, she was the best damned thing to ever happen to his little brother. But one thing that he was still wrapping his head around was that the only woman he'd ever loved was her best friend.
He'd had to get used to her being at the table for meals, helping with Jake and Liz's wedding, and generally being around at the ranch for the first time in twelve years, starting last summer. He didn't know what to do, or say. Of course he'd seen her around town, but she'd never spoken to him again after what he did, and he'd avoided her out of shame, and because of the cold, hard treatment she gave him.
Shame and regret, maybe. He'd not been thinking straight at all the day they'd buried his mother. All he could think about was how his life was changing, his responsibility to his father taking precedent. He'd set her aside when he'd needed her the most, and she'd let him.
She laughed again and it sizzled across his nerve endings, making him twitch. Who was she here with? This was the last place he would've expected her to be. It was a Sunday, her salon was closed, so she must have friends coming today. Liana knew everyone in Brightside.
Just as she settled in and said hello to a few people, Dermott Nelson stepped over the back of the bench. He slouched beside her, handed her a can of Coke, and threw his arm around behind her on the backrest.
So she was here with him.
The less he knew about her love life the better for his sanity, because even now, the urge to protect her reared up in his stomach the same way it always did. Especially because of Dermott. He was an asshole. Liz had mentioned more than once she'd heard he treated women worse than he treated his cattle, which wasn't good.
Liana had to think better of herself than to date him, wouldn't she? As his eyes slid back to her instead of the ring where the next lot was being herded in, he reminded himself that he had absolutely no right to think any way of her. He'd given that right up a long time ago.
"That's Caity's friend isn't it?" Harry said, leaning over quietly as the auctioneer started up again. "What's she doin' here?"
"No idea," Tanner snapped. "Don't care."
Harry chuckled and patted his shoulder. "I know, I know. They're changing auctioneers soon, you should go say hello."
"Leave it, Harry," Tanner growled low.
Harry held up his hands and focused back on the ring. The gavel banged, indicating the sale was done, and Tanner drew in a breath to refocus. The next lot was supposed to be the bull they wanted. He shook himself mentally. Get your shit together, West.
The bull was funnelled in, and stood in the centre of the ring non-plussed to the activity around him. He lowed loudly, his ribcage filling out, his tail flapping as he did. The wranglers were leaning up on the gate as they closed it, slapping the metal to get the bull to turn and show the crowd his other side. He obliged, and did a full circle, lowing again.
"You're right. He is worth bidding on," Tanner muttered to Harry, who hummed in agreement. He was a fine bull. Stocky necked, not too long in the body, perfect proportions to be a long term breeder.
"Lot seven. Got us a good Hereford bull, rising three years, not normal to see bulls this early in the year, so folks, let's have us some fun! Good EPD's on his first season. Have a look at this one, he's gonna be a star! Opening the floor at fifteen," the auctioneer shouted, and then gave his wind up, launching into the chant for first bid.
"Fifteen hundred. That's high," Harry hissed. "You sure?"
Tanner nodded and threw his paddle up. The bid caller whistled and pointed. Someone on the other side immediately drew the other caller's attention.
"Sixteen!"
Tanner leaned out to see who it was and swore under his breath. Dermott. Dammit.
The auctioneer started calling seventeen hundred, and Tanner nodded, flipping his paddle up again. The bull wasn't worth breaking the bank for, but something surged inside of him as he bid against Dermott. Fucker. He didn't need another bull. He had five standing in his herd already with enough score to max out his birth weight ratios. What was he playing at?
Dermott slid a smirk across his face, eyes meeting Tanner's across the arena, and lifted his paddle when the bid went to seventeen and fifty.
"Shit," Tanner swore and immediately nodded when the bid caller pointed at him for eighteen hundred. Harry took in a breath as he did.
"I know," Tanner hissed through his teeth. "I'll stop at two."
The price inched up to nineteen and Dermott flashed his paddle. By now, Liana was leaning out, looking around at who was going up against her date. Her mouth formed an O and she blinked. Tanner caught it, distracted.
"Nineteen-fifty, nineteen-fifty," the auctioneer droned. The arena went quiet, everyone watching the volley back and forth between the two men.
"The Bar C's gettin' a pay-day for this bull no matter who goes home with it," Harry muttered. "Tanner, he's not worth it."
Tanner gritted his teeth. He did not want Dermott to win, but Harry was right. Young bulls like this weren't hard to come by, and they could diversify the herd bloodlines easily later in the spring when more youngsters went on the market.
"One more," Tanner said, a rush of adrenalin pebbling his skin as he raised his paddle. Immediately the spotter turned to Dermott. You could've heard a hitch pin drop the way the crowd was holding their breath.
"Two thousand to Nelson Cattle Holdings?" the auctioneer asked, and Dermott very slowly nodded, a yip coming from the bid caller who was obviously having the time of his life moderating the tense bidding war.
Murmurs in the crowd swelled around Tanner. He felt hot under his collar, all eyes on him, the glare of attention something he hated. The auctioneer at this point had given up chanting, and repeated "Two thousand five hundred" a couple of times, tilting his head expectantly towards him.
"Tanner. Let him have it," Harry barked low under his breath. "Get the bulldog out of your head, son."
Tanner stared down the bid caller, counted to three in his head, and then made an x with his fingers, causing the entire arena to let out their collective breath. Harry was right. It hurt like hell that he was losing out to Dermott, but the bull was not worth emptying out cash they didn't need to.
"Two thousand going... going... GONE! To Nelson Cattle Holdings," The auctioneer announced, whacked the gavel, and everyone clapped. A couple folks patted Tanner on the back as they passed by, telling him it was smart to stop. Tanner sat hunched, refusing to look over at Dermott. He leaned on his legs, paddle between his hands.
He'd let his pride get in the way. Was it because he wanted the bull, or because of something else? He took in a deep breath and waved at the owners from the Bar C who were making their way up towards the back of the stands to talk to Dermott. They'd gotten a heckuva price for a young, unseasoned bull.
He was glad for it, even if the bull wasn't going home in his trailer. They were good folks.
"Want another coffee?"
Harry had stood to stretch. There was a short break and a new auctioneer would come on now. Tanner shook his head. "No. Gonna just cool down, I think."
Harry didn't reply, just patted his shoulder once again and stepped away, greeting someone as he did. The air was suddenly colder with all the bodies exiting. Tanner looked around him and settled on the group surrounding Dermott. Liana was sitting beside him, but her eyes weren't on Dermott, or their company.
She was looking right at him. Their eyes met, he nodded and she blushed, looking away. He'd caught her staring. That was interesting, and it sparked across his nerve endings again. Maybe he did need to stretch. He stood, grimaced as his bad knee clicked, and left for the bathrooms.
It was going to be a long auction if this kept up.