Chapter 6
CASSIDY
Despite everything that happened a few nights ago, despite the lingering frustration I felt, I couldn’t help but find myself doing everything possible to not laugh at her reactions and rather quick comebacks for my admittedly rude comments earlier.
It’d also taken everything in me to not look at her during lunch. I wanted to make sure she knew that she was not allowed to ask something like that or bring up anything remotely like that topic again. Besides, I was confused whether she hated me because I wasn’t like the picture Rooney painted or because I actually was?
But my conviction to not look at her was failing significantly at the moment. I don’t think she noticed me trailing along to the outside of her as we worked through the trees, guiding my horse around logs and through brush that smelled like threatening rain. Her ignorance to my presence was a blessing, because if she knew that I was admiring her, I’d probably get told to scram. I didn’t want to. Not just yet, anyway…
Glancing up at the sky, I clenched my jaw. I knew this drive had been going too smoothly. We hadn’t had a calf wander too far away, and nobody had done something stupid yet. So, of course a storm had to hit.
Nothing about cattle ranching ever went right. Not that I was complaining, but the constant whirlwind of things going wrong was definitely familiar. I chuckled to myself and finally rode away from the rather intriguing blonde.
I wanted to stick around, watch that beautiful woman a little longer. I wanted to figure out how she didn’t sit on her hair—even with it braided back—because of how long it was. I wanted to try and figure out what she seemed so afraid of, why she was so defensive and standoffish. But I needed to warn Cash and the others, see if we couldn’t pick up the pace before the storm hit, even though I knew it was fruitless.
I could smell the storm; I could feel it. My skin was slick all over from the gathering humidity, no longer dripping with the salty sweat that slipped from my pores.
And I tipped my head up to the sky, just as the first drop fell.
∞∞∞
“FASTER!” I shouted above the thundering rain that crashed down upon us. Mud slapped up behind the hooves as the hands drove the cattle through the gate. “HOLD THEM TIGHTER!”
Chaos.
The pouring rain dumped heavily around us, blurring my vision of the team working as hard as possible. I was standing next to the gate, on the outside of the miles of pasture we were pushing the cattle into, keeping them in a straight line. But the mud was slick, making the process even more difficult.
The thunder boomed loudly, drowning out my shouts and the whistling of my companions. The world was nearly black, the cattle blending in with the horizon as wind howled louder. The pelting of water droplets against my slicker was dampening even the bellowing of the nearest cow to me.
There was no stopping the dogs of war that hammered down to the soaked earth we were working upon.
And half of the herd still needed to be funneled through the narrow entrance, which was becoming trampled and slick.
“HOLD THEM STEADY!” I shouted, darting my horse in front of a panicking calf. The black, angus cow brayed and spun around, terror pushing the baby back to his mama.
“CASSIDY!” Cash’s voice drummed, broken through the rain. I tipped my head, dropping the pooling rain from my hat, and scanned the muddied group around me. Just ahead, on the opposite side of the herd of cattle, was the very man I was looking for.
As I squinted harder, I saw him pointing over my shoulder.
“CASSIDY!” he yelled again, and I followed his finger, catching a glimpse of a horse tail disappearing into the thick, pine forest behind me.
“WHO WAS THAT?” I shouted back.
“brIAR TOOK OFF AFTER A CALF! SHE DOESN’T KNOW THE AREA LIKE WE DO AND—”
“THE CLIFF!” Snatching the reins tightly in my gloved hands, I spun my horse on his haunches, and we shot off like a rocket.
The musty scent of his sweat, damp from rain, billowed into my nose as we pounded across the wet mud, glassy beneath his hooves. Branches snapped across my arms as we ducked into the treeline, following the quickly fading prints left by Briar’s horse and the lone calf she was chasing.
Leaves hung wet, slapping against my cheeks from the aspen trees as my horse jumped over a log and we rounded the bend. I knew what was clawing way too close to my left. I knew the sheer rock ledge that plummeted to a painful death below. I knew what we were nearing as we barreled farther and farther along the makeshift path.
Briar’s horse’s hoof prints followed along the ridge, rounding blackened corners, dangerously close to the edge. Each step forward, each inch we crept onward, increased the chances that my horse and I were never going to make it back home.
That she, her horse, and that calf, would never make it back alive.
Suddenly, a flash of lightning bolted across the sky, casting a dull, brief glow of light around me, and I pulled my horse to a stop.
“Briar!” I gasped as her figure, standing near her horse, snapped into my sight.
“I’ve got this!” she yelled, barely glancing back at me as thunder rumbled across the sky, which was now as dark as obsidian. She took another trembling step forward, sloshing through the mud, and reached for the terrified calf bellowing loudly for his mama. He’d wedged himself in between a sheer rock face directly in front of us and trees piercing through the wet mud off to the right.
My heart hammered in my chest, wondering why she didn’t just leave him there. He would be safe and mostly protected next to that ridge.
She took another step forward, rain slamming down hard against her hat, the long blonde strands of her braid clinging to the back of the slicker I’d let her borrow that Tenley normally wore.
She wasn’t backing off. “Briar, let me swing a loop—”
“No, I’ve got this,” she hissed again and took her next step. Her boot slipped, and the inside of the slicker, blown open in the wind, snagged on a branch. I inhaled sharply, my skin prickling in fear as she redistributed her weight. Everything in me told me to stop her. That I needed to jump down from my horse right now and not let her do this, but she did not seem like someone that was used to the help of others.
Suddenly, she launched herself forward, and the waterproof fabric of her raincoat, still caught on the branch, sheared apart as she managed to lock her arms around the tiny calf.
And they both collapsed to the ground, which pinned the animal beneath her chest.
The earth around her shook, rumbling low, and I knew what that meant.
Landslide.
Barreling off my horse, I crashed through the mud as the Earth shifted beneath them and, caught in the silt, began dragging them toward the cliff. Briar screamed, her shrill sound piercing through the thunder as she locked eyes with me. I launched forward and slammed a hand around her arm, my torso slapping against the slimy clay just as her legs plummeted off the side of the sheer rock face.
Mud slid down the front collar of my slicker, coating the inside of my shirt. Cold pierced my skin like thin, sharp daggers threatening to draw blood. I tightened my hand around her wet arm and dug in the toes of my boots, dragging us to a slow and grinding halt.
For only a moment.
And then we shifted an inch.
“Cassidy!” her voice quivered, her stormy eyes full of desperation and innocence.
Her legs dangled over the edge, her stomach pressed against the wailing animal cocooned beneath her, keeping him trapped between ground and her body. The only thing keeping us from tumbling to our death was my one hand, which was clinging to her while my other fingers and my boots hooked into the mud.
My muscles cramped, straining against hundreds of pounds. The force threatened to tear my limbs apart.
“Let go of the calf. We can rope him later,” I commanded.
She shook her head, fear etched into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just sorry!”
We shifted another inch.
“Briar, just let him go before he goes over the side. He will bunker down like he already had been, and I’ll be able to pull you up.”
“I’m so sorry. I-I-I-My dad and I…” Her hold tightened. The calf let out a massive bellow and jerked around.
And my fingers lost hold in the mud as the clay slid away beneath my boots. The devil’s hand was coming to cash in the dues that were owed.
Dues that I owed.
“LET GO!” I tugged on her arm, hard, snapping it toward me as everything dragged us toward the deep abyss below. Water and muck sprayed everywhere. Her hold loosened, and she rolled toward me, finally releasing the calf from beneath her body. The little animal bolted upright and darted away.
I heaved one last time and hauled Briar into my own body, rolling away from the cliff edge just before we went over.
And I simply held her.
Rain pelted against us, but I remained still.
I closed my eyes, breathing heavily.
Her body suddenly jolted, trembling violently in my arms.
“I’ve got you, Goldie,” I whispered.
Every cell in my lungs burned, exhaling the rush of adrenaline that had pulsed like a madman through my veins. Briar’s chest rose and fell as her convulsions slowed, the cold was practically non-existent due to the adrenaline rushing stiffly through our veins. Her figure shivered in tandem with mine from the settling of what had just occurred.
I wrapped my arms tighter around her, holding her for reassurance as the wet droplets continued to pelt against my face. As they trickled across my skin, dripping into every crevice that was exposed, I simply laid still.
Once again, an accident that nearly took someone’s life was my fault. Just another check mark in the book that held all of my sins.
When I glanced at the woman I clutched tightly against me, her eyes were closed, and I couldn’t tell if the water that trailed down her cheeks were from the rain or tears. Her blonde hair was no longer as bright as the noonday sun; instead, it was covered in a film of everything we’d nearly been consumed by. Her slicker was merely a waving flag on the branch it had torn upon, and her hat was lying in mud some feet away from us.
I exhaled a shaky breath, the cloud pluming in front of me and across the side of Briar’s face. She shuddered, and I pulled my lips between my teeth, relieved she was safe.
“What were you thinking?” I whispered, not upset that she’d gone off but that she’d nearly died. I inhaled deeply.
Keeping my voice soft, I repeated my question. “What were you thinking?”
“I already said I’m sorry!” she snapped and suddenly pushed herself out of my arms.
I didn’t fight it, despite the cold that swamped my frame as she rose to her feet. “That’s not what I mean,” I replied, knowing she had to be thinking I was accusing her or blaming her or scolding her. The tension that pulled every inch of her face taut confirmed my thoughts. I knew she was merely trying to prove something. Closing my eyes as another bolt of lightning darted across the sky, it was easy to shut out the fact that I’d nearly gone over the edge with her.
“Then explain what you mean, because I feel like you don’t trust me to do my job.” Her voice slipped through the booming thunder.
“Again, that’s not it.”
“Cassidy Duke! I am not some helpless woman who—”
“THAT’S NOT IT!” Snapping open my eyes, I jumped upright, ignoring the mud that sloshed down every exposed inch of my skin, and marched right up to her. Could this woman be more insufferable? She stirred way too much concern within me. I’d known her for five days, and I was already tangled in this web of mystery she was weaving.
Staring down at her, my chest heaved, bumping against her body. I needed her to understand what I meant. “Briar, you aren’t from around here. It’s dark, wet, and pouring rain.”
“And?” She bent down and snatched her cowboy hat from the ground as I tugged mine tighter on my head.
“AND,” I started. “I’m in charge of the people that are on this cattle drive, which means your life is my responsibility.”
Her brows twitched, but she said nothing, so I continued, watching the water drizzle from the tips of both of our hats. “It has nothing to do with me trusting that you know cattle or not, and everything to do with the fact that you had no idea there was even a cliff there. Do you know how close your tracks got to the edge? Several times. Too many times. I was born and raised here. I could close my eyes and still know what’s around me, but you’ve been here for almost a week. That’s it. This is about you trusting me.”
“Is that not what I’m doing?!” she yelled, hurt flashing across her eyes as she shoved her hands against her hips.
“What is your problem with me?”
“Nothing! You’re perfect. Absolutely perfect.”
“Right.” I threw my hands in the air, exasperated. “I’ve got the perfect job. The perfect family. The perfect life here. I’ve never made a mistake. Whatever choice I make or decision that I choose is always perfect. Perfect. Do you not understand how ridiculous that sounds?”
Why was I getting so defensive?
“Well, I’ve yet to see anything else!” Her face twisted, guilt and remorse clouding features that had me questioning what the crap she was talking about.
Clenching my jaw, I shook my head, misting some water across her face. Her eyes were as cloudy as the storm raging around us. There was no fear this time, instead there was something else I couldn’t quite place.
Almost as if she meant…it was a good thing?
“Let’s get the calf properly roped and then go back,” I muttered and turned away.
“Cassidy,” she quickly called out after me as I sloshed through the thick mud toward my horse. I paused.
“What?”
“I’m sorry. My dad and I always ran our cattle on our own—granted, our herd was quite a bit smaller—and I got wrapped up in doing this again, forgetting…” Her voice trailed off, and my shoulders sagged.
“You forgot this wasn’t your place,” I finished for her.
“Yeah.”
I clenched my jaw as we began trudging back toward the horses that had sheltered away from the cliff edge for safety. Maybe I had overreacted a smidge getting after her like that, but this woman irked me. She got under my skin so easily. It bothered me that she was digging at things that she shouldn’t have already figured out. And it was all made worse by the fact that this woman, who looked unlike any creature I’d seen before, made me feel things I hadn’t felt in years.
Since when was I the one to so quickly and easily fall for someone? Never. Not once had I ever been that way.
Right, I wasn’t into her at all. No, she just knew how to poke the sleeping bear because of whatever Rooney had told her. Maybe I should give him a call and find out what information he shared with her.
Glancing at her, she stood by her horse, attempting to salvage the slicker, but it was fruitless. Besides, it had been way too small for her to begin with.
An involuntary smile crept upon my face as I watched her. Simply watching this woman who lacked almost every womanly curve and stood only a few inches shorter than me, I could tell she was more of a woman than anyone else I’d ever met.
Her muddied braid swung across her back, brushing the back of her thighs, nearly to her knees. Hold on, I could’ve sworn it wasn’t quite that long when she arrived at the ranch? Was I seeing things?
“Is something wrong?” Her voice pierced my thoughts, and I pulled my mindlessly meandering hands down from the side of the saddle.
“Oh, no. Just uh…” I looked away, scanning the dark area around us for the calf. “Your hair, it just…” Running a wet glove across the back of my neck, I locked onto the animal tucked away between several trees. “It looks longer than when you got here,” I finished.
From my peripherals, I watched her hand snap to the braid and slide down the end of it, and her shoulders sagged. “It’s come undone from the braid a bit.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I wrap it up around the top of my neck and then braid over it to make it shorter than it is. That way I don’t accidentally sit on it or snag it while working.”
Looking back at her, the storm in her eyes swirled with something that made my skin tingle. “How… How long is it? Exactly,” I hesitantly asked.
Her doe eyes crinkled with intrigue. “Really long. I’ve never cut it.”
“Not once?” I exclaimed, squinting through the downpour.
“Nope, never.”
“Come on. I bet your mom cut it at least once when you were a kid.”
“Well, since she died giving birth to me, I’d say that’s impossible.”
My mouth fell open. “I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.” A simple smile danced across her lips. “It was twenty-eight years ago, I’ve had plenty of time to grieve.”
“So, is that why you’ve never cut it? For your mom?” Inhaling deeply, I grabbed the reins and twisted some wet mane into my fingers, then hoisted myself onto the saddle.
“Dad always said it reminded him of her, so yeah. I did everything I could to take care of it.” She swung a leg over and sat down gently in her saddle, a hiss slipping through her teeth. “Man, I hate being wet.”
“I didn’t know I elicited such a response from you,” I responded with a wink.
And then slammed a hand over my mouth. Her cheeks turned bright red beneath the shadow from her hat. So warm, the leftover rain steamed against her skin.
“I’m sorry, that just kind of slipped out. That was rather inappropriate and—”
“And kind of funny,” she muttered, cutting me off. She sucked in her lips, the edges of her eyes crinkling, fighting a smile.
“Old habits die hard,” I replied with a shrug.
She raised a brow. “Maybe not all of them need to.” And she bumped her heels against the horse's side, inching him toward the calf that we still needed to bring back to the pasture.
What?