Chapter 4 #3
Carli walks out with me. I head to the barn.
She jumps into the passenger seat of the side-by-side while I throw pliers, wire and gloves into the back bed.
I take my place in the driver’s seat, the engine roaring to life when I turn the key.
We lurch forward, tires crunching frozen dirt and gravel as we head toward the back pastures.
The drive’s only a few minutes. Carli and I ride in silence, her hair whipping in the wind, a comfortable smile on her face. I only glance over a few times, taking in the sight of her like a man gasping for oxygen.
By the time I pull up and kill the engine, my older brothers and a few of our hands have the herd surrounded in a semi-circle. With cattle, you never spook or intimidate them. They respond best to pressure.
I hop out and Carli climbs out the opposite side. She's watching the cows.
“Hoss,” she says, pointing.
I nod. “I wondered if those posts would hold. We’ve been making repairs, but not fast enough.”
“Don’t get between a bull and his herd,” she says with a wisdom that only comes from living our lifestyle for years.
She approaches the bull carefully. I walk toward some of the cows and heifers roaming around, grazing outside the pasture like it’s just another day on the ranch.
Carli starts negotiations with Hoss, talking calmly. He plants himself, staring at her with a dare in his eyes. Everything about him says he’s not budging.
I fall in with my brothers and the other hands, moving at a distance from the herd, using our movements to lightly encourage them to return to the pasture. We press in, slowly and intentionally.
Carli’s still talking to Hoss. His face could be the cartoon of a grumpy, stubborn bull. She returns the favor, drawing in her brows and thinning her lips.
Her eyes narrow and she says, “Come on, Hoss. Let’s move back where you belong.”
She’s showing strength, not force.
He snorts.
Carli shakes her head. “Okay. Okay. I’ll do this your way.”
My brothers start teasing the bull while still focusing on relocating the herd. Garrett’s first. “Hey big fella, missing your women that bad?”
Ethan’s voice is lower. “Look at him—won’t budge. Lovesick fool.”
“Someone’s feelin’ romantic today,” Luke says with a chuckle.
“Buddy, they separated you for a reason,” I say, stepping away from the herd of cows so I can give Carli some backup.
“Hey, don’t tease a guy when he’s suffering,” she says over her shoulder. “How would you like to be pining after a woman while a fence keeps you apart?”
She has no idea.
Carli moves around so she’s in Hoss’ flight zone, edging toward him from a distance, working his flank and talking calmly.
I catch myself tracking her movements before pulling my focus back to the herd.
My attention is divided between coordinating with the hands who are moving the herd and the woman who seems bound and determined to override the stubborn will of one of our bulls.
Hoss looks like he’s never going to cooperate, but then he moves, tipping his head before taking a few steps in the right direction. Carli eases up. We can’t direct him through the torn fence. It’s jagged where the wire broke free.
“Over this way,” I say to Carli.
She coos at Hoss. “See, big guy. You’re doing great. We’re just going to take a little walk.”
He snorts again, but he turns in response to her movement and as soon as he does, she steps back, releasing him like a pro—small movement, release, pressure, release. It’s a process, but she knows it as well as any of the men out here.
It takes less than an hour to get the herd into the pasture with Hoss penned in a separate field where the fencing is more secure.
We spend the rest of the morning mending the break. Dad comes out to join us once the cattle are secured. Carli works alongside all of us, joking, laughing and pulling her weight.
When the fence is secure, we’re all leaning on vehicles, drinking water and chatting.
Dad and I are resting on the front of the side-by-side.
He looks over where Carli is laughing at something Luke just said. “That girl’s worth her weight in gold, isn’t she?”
“Yeah,” I say, taking a long pull of my water. “She is.”
My dad turns and sizes me up. Is he reading my thoughts? For a second it feels like he might be and something knocks loose inside me. Our eyes hold before he gives a single nod, pushes off the hood, and strides toward the ranch hands.
Carli approaches me. “I’ve got to get back to the farm. Are you riding back soon?”
“I can take you now,” I tell her.
On the ride back, she’s chatty, energized from the morning’s work.
I listen, well aware of the smile on my face and how her presence makes my skin buzz.
Her arm shifts, brushing mine. We’re wearing coats, but my body still doesn’t know the rules.
All it knows is a blonde with wild curls, a beautiful face and an electrifying presence is only a foot away.
This is the life I want to live—with someone to work alongside me, a woman who makes me smile, shares meals, and falls into bed with me at the end of our long days.
What I feel for her is more than attraction. It’s years of knowing her, a lifetime of memorizing her quirks without trying. It’s her. She’s under my skin and I don’t want it any other way.
Back in the barn, Carli grabs a towel off the tack rack and wipes her face. She washes her hands in the barn sink and then she stops at Jasper’s stall. He lifts his head over to greet her.
“Hey, beautiful boy,” she says to him in a soft voice. She runs her hand down his face and neck, cooing compliments. He soaks each one up, leaning into her touch.
“I’ll walk you out,” I say.
“Thanks,” she says, stepping away from Jasper. “And thanks for helping me wrangle Hoss.”
“You didn’t need me. You never do.”
“I think everyone needs someone, Cody.”
I want to say something profound or revelatory—to ask the hard question. Do you need me, Carli? Do you feel this tug between us? Most of all, I want to assure her: You have me. You’ve always had me.
But I don’t.
Instead, I walk her most of the way to her truck and then I stand in the driveway while she backs down it, pivots and drives off, dust lifting and settling behind her tires.
I stand there a moment longer than makes sense, hands on my hips, breathing the cool afternoon air that tastes a little like we’re expecting rain.
I stare after her, even after she’s long out of sight, telling myself it’s enough—working alongside her, living just down the road.
But days like today leave a hollowness in the spaces she so easily filled, making me wonder if we could have more and whether the price we’d pay for finding out would be too high.