Cag #3
I grab a plate and pile it high. Juliette hasn’t eaten anything except fear and adrenaline since she climbed into my truck, and feeding her suddenly feels like the most important job I’ve ever been given.
She’s staying.
That’s the only answer anyone needs.
I carry the plate back toward the barn before someone appears and tries to talk sense into me. I don't look back. I don't need to. I know what’s waiting for me in that loft. My future. My redemption.
My woman.
I climb the ladder, my heart pounding. I open the door and see her sitting on the cot, her hair a mess, her dress torn, and her eyes bright with hope.
I set the plate down and walk toward her. I don't say a word. I just take her face in my hands and kiss her. It’s not a soft kiss. It’s hungry and desperate and full of all the things I can't say.
She moans into my mouth, her hands tangling in my hair. She pulls me closer, her body arching against mine.
In this moment, there is no Black Aspen. There is no Conrad Marchand. There are only the two of us, surrounded by old wood, saddle oil, and the fading trace of her magnolia perfume.
I pull back, my forehead resting against hers. Our breaths are coming in short, ragged bursts.
"You're not going anywhere," I growl.
"I don't want to," she whispers.
And that’s all I need to hear.
I spend the next hour watching her eat. It sounds pathetic, but I can't look away. Every move she makes, every bite she takes, it’s like I’m seeing the world for the first time.
She tells me about her life in the city, the coldness of her father’s house, the way she was taught to be a perfect ornament.
She tells me about her designs, the way she sees the world in textures and colors.
I tell her about the ranch. I tell her about the horses and the way the sun looks when it hits the ridge in the winter. I don't tell her about the woman who left me. I don't need to. That’s a different life. A different man.
We’re interrupted by a knock at the barn door below. I freeze, my hand going to the knife at my belt.
"Cag? You in there?"
It’s Andy. His voice is tense.
"Stay here," I tell Juliette.
I head down the ladder. Andy is standing in the middle of the barn. He’s holding a piece of paper.
"What is it?" I ask.
"The Black Aspen surveyor was seen at the upstream gate this morning," Andy says. "He was taking pictures. And we got this."
He hands me the paper. It’s a formal notice. A demand for the return of Juliette Marchand, signed by her father’s attorneys. It mentions "unlawful detention."
My blood turns to ice.
"They know she’s here," Andy says.
"Let them come," I say, crumpling the paper in my hand.
"Cag, they’re threatening to shut off the western wells by the end of the week if she isn't returned. Dwight’s already seeing stock come in dehydrated. He says the levels are dropping."
I look up at the loft. I can see the shadow of Juliette through the floorboards.
"They’re trying to starve us out," I say.
"They’re trying to trade a woman for the ranch," Andy corrects me.
I look at my brother. I see the weight on his shoulders. I see the responsibility he carries for all of us. And then I think about Juliette. I think about the way she looked when she said she felt safe.
"We don't trade people, Andy," I say, my voice steady. "We never have. And we're not starting now."
"I figured you’d say that," Andy says. He reaches out and claps a hand on my shoulder. "Then we’d better get ready. Because Marchand isn't going to stop at a piece of paper."
"Good," I say. "I’ve been looking for a reason to hit back."
I head back up to the loft. Juliette is standing by the window, looking out at the pastures. Her shoulders are set in a new way, square and steady, like she's decided something.
"They’re coming for me, aren't they?" she asks.
"They can try," I say. I walk over to her and wrap my arms around her from behind. I bury my face in her hair, breathing in her scent. "But they’re going to have to go through the Kramers first."
She turns in my arms, her eyes searching mine. "Why are you doing this, Cag? Why risk everything for someone you just met?"
I look at her. I see the freckles on her shoulders. I see the fire in her eyes. I see the woman who was brave enough to tear her own wedding dress to find her freedom.
"Because you're worth it," I say. "And because you're mine."
She smiles then, a real, bright smile that lights up the entire room. She leans in and kisses me, her lips soft and sweet.
"Then let them come," she says.
And right then, I know we’ve already won. Because no matter what happens, no matter what Marchand throws at us, he can't take away the way she looks at me. He can't take away the bond that’s already formed between us.
I pick up the cottonwood hawk and deepen the curve of one wing. The carving still isn’t finished, but it’s closer than it was yesterday.
For the first time in years, I know I’ll pick up the knife again.
The past is still there. So is the pain.
But neither one owns my hands anymore.
I have a new purpose now. A new reason to fight.
And her name is Juliette.