Page 1 of Meant for Her

CHAPTERONE

“What the fuck? Who the hell are those guys?” Rancher Luke Lattimore shouted as he rode alongside his twin brother, Ryan.

They had just reached the valley where their cows were grazing when they saw six men stealing several of their cattle. Who they were, Luke didn’t know, but he sure as hell was going to find out.

Luke took off at a gallop, his horse’s hooves smacking hard against the slightly snow-covered ground. As he raced to save his livelihood, Luke’s heart was beating faster than his horse’s hooves. “Come on, Atlas. You can do it, boy.”

He sped toward the thieves and their two eighteen-wheelers that contained their precious cargo. The gallop of Atlas’ hooves, the creak of saddle leather, and the rush of wind, blocked out all but his raging thoughts. What he’d do when he reached the bastards, he wasn’t sure, but it wouldn’t be a cordial exchange.

Whether they were fellow werewolves or not, he couldn’t tell from this distance.Crap. This was the last thing the Circle L Ranch needed.

The thieves closed the back of both trucks containing way too many of the Lattimore cows, jumped into the cab, and peeled away.

Shit. Luke pushed Atlas harder. With his Winchester 30-30 lever-action rifle in the scabbard on his saddle and his Colt 45 single-action in his holster, he might have a chance to at least shoot out one or hopefully more tires. His options would be limited even if they slowed.

If they happened to stop while on Lattimore land far enough away from the highway, he and Ryan could shift, but fighting six werewolves—assuming they were shifters—would be a huge challenge.

Ryan caught up to him, his focus on the thieves. They only owned one hundred and twenty cows, barely enough to pay off the creditors as it was, six of which were about to give birth. If they lost any of those, the Circle L Ranch might go bankrupt.

Luke didn’t need to dwell on the future but on the here and now.

“Shoot out their tires,” Ryan shouted.

That was his plan. Luke was a better shot than his twin, but he was aware that it was next to impossible to hit a tire on a moving vehicle from a galloping horse. That wouldn’t stop him from trying, however. It wasn’t as if he had a lot of choices.

Concentrating on not being thrown off his horse, he slipped his Winchester from the scabbard, cocked it, and took aim just as the lead truck neared the main road.

Instead of zooming up the hill and jetting across the Montana highway as Luke expected, the driver slowed and merely lumbered up the incline. He then came to a halt. What the hell?

Luke looked to his left to see if something was preventing him from crossing or entering the main road.

“Are you kidding me?”telepathed his brother.“It looks like a funeral procession for some bigwig.”The line of cars seemed endless. He glanced upward and silently thanked the traffic gods.

“It must be Dad looking out for us from above,” Ryan telepathed back.

Luke doubted that, but whoever was responsible, he was thankful.

The delay would give him some extra time to close the gap, increasing his chances for a better shot. Even if he managed to rip a hole in one of the eighteen wheels, it wouldn’t do much damage.

The second truck pulled behind the first truck and rolled to a stop.

Before Luke had the chance to pull the trigger, someone leaned out the window and pointed a rifle at them. Shots rang out from the rear truck.Those bastards. Didn’t they realize someone might see them? Or didn’t they care?

To hell with it.Luke fired his weapon, the recoil jarring him, while Ryan took aim with his Smith and Wesson 357. The acrid scent of the gunpowder filled his nostrils and almost made him sneeze.

Luke was pretty sure he hit one of the rear tires on the second truck, but he’d need to do a lot more damage than that to be effective at stopping them.

Even if it slowed them down, Ryan and he couldn’t chase the big trucks for long while on horses.

Ryan popped off a few shots. One pinged off the back of the rear truck, and the others probably missed.

“Aim, Ryan.”

“I’m trying.”

Luke took another shot, but he couldn’t tell if he’d been successful a second time. He didn’t hear any tire hissing, not that he would over the engine noise and Atlas’ loud snorting. Even if he had hit the side of the tire, it would take a few minutes for the driver to notice his tire was leaking air.

Luke looked for the license plate, hoping to memorize the number, but it was missing. No surprise there. Their efficiency implied they were professionals. It took balls and experience to pull off a heist in broad daylight. It appeared as if they’d done their homework. Someone must have told them there were only the two of them running the ranch.