Chapter 25
Kacey
Kacey
I’ll be done working cattle in about an hour. Want to come over? I’ll cook.
Jessie
Deal. I’ll bring dessert and wine.
Jessie
He call yet?
Kacey
No. I’m sure he’s just busy.
I’m sitting on the tailgate, holding a bloody towel to my forehead. Carson is digging around in the first aid kit while Chet talks on the phone.
“I’m fine, guys. It’s a minor cut; head wounds just bleed more,” I say to calm them down. Rein jumps up on the tailgate and lays down next to me.
Carson looks up and glares at me. “You were thrown a good eight feet and smacked your head on the panel. You could have a concussion.”
“I do not have a concussion.” I roll my eyes at him. “I wasn’t knocked out, and I feel fine.” Well, mostly fine. I have a slight headache but who wouldn’t with Carson and Chet mother-henning them?
Chet walks over, his spurs clinking, and holds the phone out to me. “He wants to talk to you.”
He called my dad. Tattle tail.
I take the phone. “Hi, Dad.”
“Here, swap the towel for these,” Carson says and hands me some gauze pads.
“Hey, Bug, I’m about to leave the locker. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Chet said you got thrown, hit your head, and cut it?” I can hear the concern in his voice.
“No, stay; you don’t need to come all the way over here.” We’re clear on the other side of the ranch. “He makes it sound worse than it is. It’s not that bad, it’s not even an inch. It doesn’t even need stitches. We can butterfly strip it,” I reassure him.
“You need to go to the hospital and get checked out—”
“No,” I snap, harsher than I mean to. “I am not going to the hospital.” I hate hospitals. I’ve only been to the hospital once since the day my mom died. Carson needed stitches and there was no one else to drive him. I ended up waiting in the truck after nearly having a panic attack.
He sighs, knowing my aversion to hospitals. “Chet said you could have a concussion.”
“I’m going to give Chet a concussion in a minute,” I say, annoyed. Carson snorts next to me, and I hear Dad sigh over the line. “I’m fine. I can finish working these cows. And Jessie is coming over tonight; I promise I’ll let her look at me. Okay?”
I hear Carson say under his breath, “Like hell you’ll finish working these cows.”
I glare at him.
“You’re sure you don’t have a concussion? I’m serious, Kacey.” He’s worried, I don’t blame him. I get a little overbearing when he gets hurt or sick, too. After losing Mom, we’re both protective when it comes to each other’s safety.
I try to keep that in mind and use the most confident but reassuring tone that I can. “I’m good; I promise. I’ll meet you at the ranch when we’re done with these pairs.”
“Alright. Hand the phone to Carson, please.”
Great. I’d bet all the money in my wallet Carson is going to get assigned babysitting duty.
This is part of being a woman working in a “man's field." I get babied or not taken seriously often. Carson and my dad are pretty good about understanding that I can handle myself. It’s mostly the cowboys who think women shouldn’t be here or the feed salesmen who refuse to talk to me, only wanting to talk to “the man in charge.” Every woman in agriculture experiences it but that doesn’t make it sting any less.
I hand him the phone and start digging around the first aid kit for butterfly strips.
I try to listen but can’t hear anything Dad is saying. I hear Carson’s replies though.
“Probably twenty-five to thirty is all.”
I bet he asked how many head of cattle we have left to work.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” he says and turns to Chet, motioning for him to get the other cowboy with us to get back to work. “Will do.” He hangs up the phone, handing it back to him.
I find some butterfly strips and jump off the tailgate.
“Oh no you don’t,” I hear Carson say as I head for the mirror on the truck.
“Relax, I’m just going to put these on.” And then go back to work.
He reaches over my shoulder and plucks the strips out of my hand. “Hey!”
He crosses his arms, his worn denim shirt pulled taut as he looks down at me. “You’re done for the day. Go sit down and keep pressure on that. It’s still bleeding. You shouldn’t put those on until it’s been cleaned, anyway. We’ll finish these cows, then head back to the house.”
I take the gauze off my head and immediately feel blood run down my face.
Shit.
“I was planning to clean it, I’m not an idiot,” I mumble as I head back to the tailgate.
It took them longer to finish working the cows since they were down a person.
This set of cows was also extra spicy today, which never helps.
They’ve been on this pasture with little human interaction for a while now and it shows.
We always try to work cows slow and quiet, but this group has required a lot of yelling and slamming of gates.
Before it was said and done, Carson had a hand slammed between two gates and Chet had to bail over a gate, almost landing on his head. I might have laughed at him.
They finally get done and Carson drives me home. We walk in my front door to find Jessie on my couch eating chips while she reads and my dad in the kitchen drinking a beer, talking on the phone.
He hangs up when he sees me. “Hey, Bug, let me see.” He wastes no time looking at my head. “It’s just under an inch and not too deep. I bet we can clean and strip it. Jessie, what do you think?”
That’s literally what I said. Why does no one listen to me?
Jessie gets up and examines my wound. “I agree. How do you feel? Any headache, dizziness, blurred vision, or nausea?”
“A little headache after it happened, but it’s gone now,” I tell her.
“How did this happen?” she asks.
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and fill her in.
“We were working some particularly spicy pairs today. Carson was running the sorting gate with Rein, and I pushed them into the tub, heading to the chute. One got turned around, and I thought I’d get the gate shut in time, but I didn’t.
She hit the tub gate—hard—and threw me back a few feet into a panel.
I hit my head on the lower rung but was able to get up and over the panel before she could turn around and eat me. ”
Carson snorts—his version of a laugh—at my description. “I ditched my gate and ran down to her, but Rein beat me there, nearly taking that cow’s nose off. Kacey had blood all over her face, she looked like an axe murderer.”
“I bet. Head wounds always bleed terribly. Well, let’s get it cleaned up,” Jessie says and grabs a bag of things she brought with her.
Of course, my dad texted her beforehand.
Since it’s been decided that I am fine, Dad and Carson take off as Jessie and I head for the bathroom. She cleans my cut then sits on the bathroom counter filling me in on all the hospital drama while I shower.
I make us tacos and tell Jessie how annoying Carson and Chet were today after I hit my head. She laughs when I tell her about Chet going headfirst over the fence.
We’re eating when she finally asks, “Still no call?”
I shake my head.
“Have you tried calling him?”
I set my taco down and sigh. “No . . . I’ve thought about it, but he’s been texting me and I know they’ve been busy and had a few rough days. Plus, it’s only been a week since he left, and we aren’t officially dating or anything. I don’t want to come across as clingy.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You’re one of the most independent women I know. You’re not clingy. It’s okay to want to hear his voice and see how he’s doing. Maybe he’s nervous to call you—ever think of that?”
“Maybe, but he isn’t really the nervous type. I’m guessing he’s just been busy. I could try to call him when we’re done eating, he shouldn’t be riding yet.” I take a bite of my taco and set it back on my plate.
“Where is he at tonight?”
“Weatherford, Texas, for an Extreme bull riding.”
We finish eating and I tell Jessie I’m going to go call him from the bedroom as I head down the hall.
“Okay, good luck. I’m going to turn the TV on.”
I sit down on my bed cross-legged and bring up his contact.
From his texts, I know the first few days on the road haven’t been going very smoothly for him and Trey, so I hope today has been better.
I was so busy I haven’t texted him all day, but I know he made it to Weatherford.
He sent me a Snapchat when he got there.
I press his number and wait. It rings three times before he answers.
“Hey, sweetheart.” I can hear the smile on his face and now I’m smiling, too.
“Hey, just wanted to call and see how it’s going and wish you good luck tonight.”
“KACEY!” I hear Jessie yell from the living room like the house is on fire.
What the hell? She knows I’m on the phone.
“Thanks, today’s been good. How was your day?” Knox says. I hear background noise—he must already be up at the arena.
“Kacey, come here! NOW!” she yells again. I climb off the bed and jog down the hallway, worried.
Maybe something really is wrong.
“It was good, we worked some pairs—” I start to tell Knox, but now I’m at the end of the hallway and see Jessie standing up pointing at the TV, at Knox, who’s apparently doing an interview, but he’s standing there on the phone with me, on live TV.
I make some nonverbal yelping sound. “Knox! What are you doing? Hang up!”
He laughs. He literally laughs at me and I’m watching it on TV. “Turned your TV on, did ya?” He winks at the camera.
“I’m hanging up. You’re crazy.” I hear Jessie next to me, jumping up and down, making weird squeaking noises, but I can’t look away from the TV. I’ve really missed that smile.
“Alright, alright, I’ll call you back later.” He grins through the TV, and I hang up the phone.
He puts his phone back in his pocket and immediately begins telling the interviewer—who is very confused about what just happened—about the bull he has drawn tonight. Completely unfazed by the fact that he just blew off a live TV interview to answer my phone call.
“That was the sweetest thing ever. You have to marry him,” Jessie says while still jumping up and down. “I’m going to rewind it and record it. This will go viral.”
“You are not posting that on the internet.” I plop down on the couch. I think I’m in shock over the fact that the man just answered my phone call on live TV.
Has he never heard of just calling someone back?
She grabs the remote and starts rewinding it. “I’m at least recording it so you have it. You can show it to your kids someday.”
I burst out laughing. Big, uncontrollable belly laughs.
Jessie throws herself down on the couch next to me and joins me.
I put my face in my hands and try to catch my breath.
“That was crazy, wasn’t it? He answered my call on live TV.”
“That he did. I do believe that man has it bad for you, my friend.”
I take my head out of my hands and look at her. “I think I might have it bad for him, too. And it terrifies me.”