Chapter 42
TILLY
August is even hotter than the two months prior.
What I assumed would be a brutal summer has been worse, and I’m so sunburnt that I can’t have my shoulders out anymore.
My cropped shirts have become, well, not cropped, and the sleeves are too long.
Sunscreen isn’t doing what it should for me anymore, so I’ve been left with no other option.
Rowe’s been getting quite a kick out of my inability to wear what I’d like.
The more fabric I’m wearing, the less he grunts in annoyance when I’m around the other cowboys.
I think that makes me want to wear nothing at all instead, if only to get a rise out of him.
It’s been too long since he’s tossed me over his shoulder and taken me in the stables like a possessive beast. Three weeks, to be exact.
I’m itching for it.
Of course, it doesn’t help that I’m currently sitting on the fence, watching him prepare to mount Wraith for the first time.
There’s something about Rowe doing what he does best, especially after he’s worked so hard to get to this point, that turns me all the way on.
He’s not quite wrangling a tiger, but it’s crazy nonetheless.
The terrifying black horse is a bit less so now. He’s moved into the stable, and while he’s kept in the paddock at the back, he’s taken to his new home. It’s still isolated, and none of the kids are allowed to go in and muck it or feed him, but it’s a hell of a lot better than living out here.
He’s clean too. Groomed to perfection, thanks to me and with brand-spanking-new horseshoes.
I didn’t ask the farrier how bad his hooves were when he first got to work on them last week, and I won’t now.
That information will only make me sad, and Wraith’s come too far for me to be anything less than happy.
His black-as-night braided mane shakes slightly when Rowe cinches the saddle and gives the stirrup a tug.
Wraith stays relatively still, but this is their first time doing this together.
His ears are still up, even if they’re twitching slightly.
Rowe’s eyes are heavy on him, watching for the first sign that he’s going to lose it.
It’s been months of work leading up to this point, and if he pushes him too far or if things go even slightly sideways, it could send them back to the beginning. My fingers tap on the fence as I watch from afar.
Rowe slips his foot into the stirrup now and applies some weight. He bounces his knee, letting it bump the saddle. Wraith pins his ears back. My man releases the pressure and mutters words I can’t hear from across the pen. Slowly, Wraith’s ears go back up, and Rowe tries again.
The second attempt pulls the same reaction.
My stomach tumbles with dread. There are a million different reasons why training isn’t my thing, and this right here?
Yeah, this is one of the biggest ones. I couldn’t handle the disappointment of working toward something for so long, only to not succeed on the first try.
I’m lacking the specific patience it takes for this work. Rowe has it in spades.
This isn’t just any horse.
As much as I know Rowe would never verbally admit it to anyone, even me, this horse has helped heal his soul.
Wraith may have been forced here under the orders of a cruel man, but what he found here was a family who will stop at nothing to see him whole again.
They’re two sides of the same coin, and I know when Rowe looked at him that first day, he saw himself: broken, alone and in need of stability after years of being locked away.
They were both so, so angry with the world, but now? Now, they’re finding themselves again.
I fold my hands in my lap and tap my thumbs together. Rowe hasn’t retreated yet and once again applies weight to the stirrup. There’s a twitch of Wraith’s ears, but they don’t pin back. He stays still, calm.
My eyes burn as I stare across the dirt.
Rowe’s stroking Wraith’s neck, and I can almost hear the words he’s speaking.
The huge horse turns his head then, and one dark eye finds Rowe.
I can hear the heavy breath that he pushes out, and I squeeze my hands tight.
He doesn’t look angry or afraid, but there’s still something there .
. . a dare almost. Like the horse is trying to tell him to just get on with it already.
Rowe’s chin dips, and then he’s gripping the saddle horn and swinging his leg over, settling as lightly as possible.
Wraith reacts immediately, some of the bravado disappearing.
He takes a few steps to the side, snorting loudly.
I wait for him to rear up or shoot forward, but he never does.
His ears are pinned, but he doesn’t act out or try to get Rowe off him.
If anything, it’s almost like he’s doing everything he can to keep himself calm enough not to hurt the man who’s become a friend.
Every second feels tenser than the next until I’m bouncing my knee and picking at the skin around my thumbnail. If I pick too deep, I don’t notice. The reins are held loosely in Rowe’s hands, and I think I fall more in love with him as I witness his unwavering steadiness in this moment.
He’s so fucking mine, and I’m dying to get my hands on him so I can show just how proud I am.
In a blink, what could have been a moan twists into a soft gasp.
Rowe sinks his body completely into the saddle.
Wraith moves forward a few steps, responding to his rider with cautious determination.
The reins in Rowe’s hands shift, and then Wraith’s making a small circle in the dirt.
Tears build behind my eyes before I blink them away.
“It’s about time.”
I twist at the sound of Jed Carrigan’s deep voice.
Rowe’s father towers beside me on the opposite side of the fence, staring straight out past my head.
There’s a lot less pride in his eyes than there is in mine, though.
More like reluctant relief, as if Rowe spending his time helping this horse has been more of a hassle for him than anything else.
“What do you mean?”
“This has taken him far longer than I expected. That horse should have been sent somewhere else a month ago instead of remaining on my feed bill.”
I still my bouncing leg. Keep your mouth shut, Tilly. Don’t, don’t, don’t—
“And you could have done better?”
Deep, dark eyes find me, and I sit up straighter despite the voice in my head telling me to slouch.
This isn’t a man who’s used to hearing shit from anyone, let alone a woman he doesn’t seem to respect.
Still, I don’t seem to care about all the reasons why I should keep my mouth shut.
Not when this man is being an unbearable prick once again.
“My son’s got too many soft spots lately. If he wants to take over the ranch, he’s got to earn it. Starting with proving that he knows when he’s wasting his time on a lost cause,” he snips, looking away from me again, as if I’m going to let him dismiss me so easily.
“That horse wasn’t a lost cause, and soft spots aren’t some great evil. You know damn well that Rowe deserves this place, and I sure as shit hope he doesn’t ever hear you saying anything different. That’s the last thing he needs to hear from his father.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw, and he grips the fence tight enough his knuckles blanch. “You’re overstepping, Tilly.”
“Maybe. But you know he’s not going to let you kick me out of here. I’m also the best groomer this place has ever had.”
“I could find another.”
I almost laugh. “You could, but you won’t.
Despite how tall you try to stand to tower over your son, you can’t look down your nose at him.
Even if by some miracle you could, I’d be here to knock you down a few inches.
He’s not below you, and neither am I. If you don’t stop treating him like all he is to you is an employee, you’ll lose even more time with him. We’ve all lost more than enough.”
“I don’t need you to remind me how long he was gone, nor do I need a lecture from the woman responsible for every one of those years,” he snides, voice dipping even deeper.
There’s a cool drip of guilt running down my spine.
It’s hard to keep my expression nonchalant.
This man is more like his son than he will ever admit, but where Rowe has the capability of feeling warmth, I’m pretty sure Jed doesn’t.
I’ve never been inclined to watch him with his wife, but she’s just as nasty.
Maybe they’d do well to stay a few nights in the round pen now that Wraith is done with it.
If Rowe hadn’t been so cruelly cast away when he was arrested, maybe he would have told them the details of what happened that night. Instead, they turned on him and treated him the same as they would a random criminal who pulled up on this ranch and stole a trailer full of horses.
They can continue believing the same story that everyone else in town heard through the rumour mill—that he acted out of anger because he was jealous of my ex-boyfriend.
The real details have never left the circle of those of us who were there that night, and until they prove that they deserve to know, they never will.
“I didn’t force him to do what he did. But if it makes you feel better or helps you justify his actions, then you can blame it on me all you want.
Your opinion doesn’t matter much in my eyes and won’t until it starts pulling weight with Rowe.
Either way, I’m not going anywhere. It doesn’t make a difference to me whether you hate me every day that I’m here and make it your mission to ignore me, or if you’ll send a random smile my way every third Sunday after you get back from church.
I’m going to stay on your payroll and in the cabin up past the river for the foreseeable future, Jed.