14. Darcy
FOURTEEN
DARCY
Cane’s agitated from the moment I get him out of the field. I usually have to clang their leads along the fence to get them to come, but he’s waiting and stamping around, anxious from the storm clouds overhead.
“Come here, you goober,” I say, reaching for his halter. He twists his face away and I’m trying so hard not to show my frustration. “You see this shit, Freckle?”
Freckle gives me no such resistance, calmly coming to the gate and letting me clip her without a problem.
Cane’s still determined to give me hell.
“Buddy, you gotta wear the thing so you can get to your safe spot before the rain. Come on.”
I get a good grip on his halter and he whips his head up again.
Bill always says to never let ‘em see you sweat. Cane’s volatility makes me nervous all the time, but I fight to keep my cool around him. He likes Maggie, and Maggie only. She swore he’d be good for me since we’ve got a similar build and vibe, despite our lack of shared DNA. Cane must pick up on our differences though, because he has certainly not been good for me. Hell, he’s not even good for Jake when Jake plays into his many demands.
If I were smart, I’d take one horse at a time this morning, but this storm’s rolling in fast. The closer it gets, the more likely Cane’s going to freak.
I get him settled and clipped on, running a soothing hand down his nose. “It’s alright. We’ll get you in before the thunder.”
He whinnies as a rumble sounds, not doing me any favors. “We can do this, buddy.”
I get him on my left and Freckle on my right and we start the long trek to the house. Of course, I put them in the farthest pasture last night. My dumb ass didn’t check the weather to see if it might behoove me to keep them closer to the barn—or at least on the same side of the creek as the barn.
I try quietly singing to give them something else to think about, an old hymn Peepaw used to sing. Maybe it will remind Cane of him too. When we can see the house, lightning cracks across the sky. I tense, knowing chaos is about to erupt. No amount of “whoa”-ing is going to calm Cane. He rears back on his hind legs, almost crashing back down on my shoulder. He scrambles away from me, and I struggle to hold his lead line. He’s a thousand pounds, and I am not. He yanks free and heads for the woods.
Freckle’s restless from all this commotion, nickering and whinnying. In an ideal situation, I’d get Freckle settled, then come back for Cane, but Cane could get pretty high up the mountain fast.
I’m screwed.
I run, trying to not let Freckle get ahead of me, and reach the edge of the woods. I tie Freckle to a tree and say “stay,” like she’s a dog or something. Cane hasn’t made it as far as I feared. I approach him cautiously, and thankfully, he’s more calm under cover here. I lower to grab his lead line, stroking down his nose. “It’s alright, buddy. We can make it to the barn. I know you’re scared. We’re going to get through this together.”
I’m rattled as hell. I almost got trampled, almost lost a horse, and now I have to cross what’s sure to be a rapidly rising creek with two horses. I’m shaking all over, getting scratched by briars, and rain’s starting to drip from the canopy, moisture rolling down my arms. We make it back to Freckle and I untie her from the tree.
We’re out in the open and almost to the creek crossing. Water already flows about an inch over the bridge. An inch now could mean a foot in a matter of minutes. Flash floods are common out Painter Creek, but it doesn’t make it any less scary when it happens. I’m going to be stranded on the side with the barn and the cabin.
And just my luck, Jake’s truck is pulling in by the barn. A blinding flash accompanies an instantaneous thunder clap and Cane rears up again.
“Whoa, whoa,” I try, but Cane almost pulls my arm out of its socket. He’s just shy of rodeo-style bucking, and panic washes over me anew.
I could get trampled in a heartbeat.
But Jake’s running toward us, hands out. Rain drips off his straw hat and his eyes look serious, but calm. He turns his body to the side, sidling my way and holding his hand out for the lead line. I toss it to him and with a series of low, quiet commands, he gets Cane walking in a circle.
“There you go. Good boy,” he says.
I briefly make eye contact with him, but have to go on. I can’t let Jake see how scared I am: hands shaking, barely breathing, knees wobbling in a way that feels cartoonish.
I get into the barn, the sound of the rain switching to pattering on the metal roof. Freckle’s still worried and snuffling, but she’s not wigging out like Cane. I put her in her stall and slide the door closed, heading to the tack room to get some feed.
I close the door behind me, pin my back to it, and let myself fall apart. What the hell am I doing with my life? How in the hell am I running this farm by myself?
What was I thinking, running away from my life? Yeah, I didn’t get the promotion, but it was a good job. I just threw it away. Years of work. Years of love. Gone. And now I’m putting myself in situations where I could die and no one would find me for half a day.
My crying is hysterical, gasping for air. I slump against the counter in the middle of the tack room. The weight of everything feels so big, and I’m fighting to not fall into a panic attack.
The tack room window looks out into the barn, where Jake has Cane jogging in circles. His firm calm shows in his stance, the way he holds his head. He stops Cane and approaches him, giving him firm pats on his neck. Cane nuzzles Jake’s pants and his lips curl up in a chuckle. He says something that looks affectionate to the horse, then pulls a mint out of his pocket and gives it to him. After a few more pats, he’s walking a calmed-down Cane to his stall.
Meanwhile, my hands shake so much I almost spill the feed I’m scooping out.
I walk back out with a bucket in each hand, head down so my ball cap covers my face. I clip Freckle’s feed first, hoping Jake will just disappear or go away. I can’t stand the idea that he knows I fucked up. That he knows I can’t do this, that I can’t handle my job. That I’m a fake, a phony, a hot mess.
He stands with a hand on Cane’s stall door, eyes on me as I drop in Cane’s feed. As quickly as I can, I flick my eyes his way. “Thanks.”
“Yeah, no problem,” he says, sliding the door shut. Out of my periphery, I see his arm reach for me, but I stay just past arm’s length.
“I’ll muck the stalls,” I say.
“I’ll help you,” Jake says, following me.
“I don’t need help,” I throw behind me, trying desperately to get him to leave me alone with my mortification. I want to lick my wounds in private.
“Darcy,” Jake calls, catching up to me. “Hey. Stop. You alright?”
“Fine,” I say without turning my face. In the tack room, I grab my work gloves and rush back out, running into his chest. God, he’s a mountain of a man.
“Darce.”
“What.” I mean to say it with attitude, but it comes out all weak and wobbly.
Firm, warm hands land on my upper arms. “You’re all wet.”
“It’s raining,” I mumble.
He snorts softly. “I see that.” His hat appears where my gaze is lowered and he shakes it off, as if to demonstrate how wet it is out. He rests it on his outer thigh but doesn’t move otherwise, waiting for something. Waiting for me to get it together. But I can’t. Today broke me, and it’s not even 8 a.m. My breathing quickens, fighting the leak in my emotional dam. I don’t want to have a panic attack now—that would just add to the list of ways Jake has seen me unable to function. My throat tightens again and the words spill from me.
“I feel like a joke,” I squeak out.
Jake’s eyes round and his mouth falls open. His next word is whispered. “What?”
I suck a choppy breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing out here. I thought I had it all under control, and I don’t, and I’m stuck like this all summer, and this place is falling apart. And by some working of the devil, you always show up right when I’m messing something up, just to make sure I have an audience.”
I quiver harder, feeling lightheaded. I’m spiraling, falling apart in front of someone I’m so tired of falling apart in front of. Rob’s voice starts to play in my head when Jake wraps one strong arm around my shoulders and crushes me to his chest.
And he just holds me. His shirt is wet, but his skin’s warmth pushes through. His voice is gravelly when he speaks again. “I’m never going to judge you for being human. You’re allowed to make mistakes. And anyway, Cane’s an asshole. I’ve still got the bruise to prove it.”
“He likes you,” I whimper.
“We’re developing an understanding, asshole to asshole.” Jake hugs me tighter, wrapping the arm holding his hat to my opposite hip. “It involves a lot of mint bribery.”
I laugh and sniffle, then sigh. “I know he used to be a barrel horse, but he doesn’t act like it.”
Jake chuckles. “Must be why he likes me. I used to race. He smells it on me.”
I tip my chin up to look at him. “That tracks.”
“I don’t want to know what that means,” he says. “I think you’re mocking me though.”
“Nah,” I sigh, then let my ear rest against his chest. I admit the thing that’s been weighing heaviest on me. “Bill and Maggie only gave me this job because they felt sorry for me.” Agitation builds in me again, an itchy feeling in my arms. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’ve been away so long working a desk job and I tricked myself into thinking this would be fine. Everything’s going to shit! You know it. That’s why you give me shit all the time. You don’t think women can run a farm, and look! You’re right!”
He has a smirk when he pushes me back and holds me by the shoulders. “You know I never said that, boss.”
I add a dopey layer to my tearful voice. “Where’s Bill? Why isn’t he the boss?”
Jake rolls his eyes and chuckles. “You know what? You’re right. That’s exactly what I sound like.” He arranges his voice into the ridiculous pitch I used. “Darcy’s so bad at making sure everything gets done and works fifteen-hour days to take care of everything. She’s so lazy.”
“You know what I mean,” I scoff, wiping under my eyes.
“Hey.” He jostles me, both hands on my shoulders still. “You’re doing it. You don’t need me to tell you that. It’s all working out because you’re making that happen. You are not doing a bad job.”
I sulk. “I know better than to walk two horses at a time, especially with a storm coming in.”
He tips his head to the side. “That, you’re right, may not have been the smartest move. But I think it’s a sign I need to get up and help you. I’m the horse guy after all. If you can wait for me in the mornings, we can go together. It’ll be our morning walk and talk. Face time with the boss.”
With a little smirk that shows off those fucking dimples, he swipes my cheek with his thumb. I can’t deny that he’s got the tenderest heart, and it makes me melt a little.
Or he’s just full of shit.
But full of shit wouldn’t have invited me to play video games and eat snacks when I needed a friend. He’s a good guy. But is his kindness genuine? What if he’s one of those churchy guys who only does stuff so he can get a front row seat in heaven or something?
I can’t let his kindness go too far. I won’t.
“You already work too many hours,” I object. “And where were you coming from just now?”
He sighs. “The lab. I went before sun-up to check on something I had running. But I can move my schedule around to do those checks at night instead of in the early morning.”
I shake my head, waving him off. “You shouldn’t have to change anything because I can’t do my job.”
“I wouldn’t say you can’t do your job. You’re just a little . . . overly ambitious.”
I roll my eyes and pop his arm with the back of my hand.
“What? You said it yourself.”
“Fine,” I mutter, a little smile quirking up my lips.
“Good. Now what I can’t wait to see is how much fun you are first thing in the morning. I bet it’s an absolute blast.”
I chuckle, feeling my ears turn hot. “You can’t just be earnest for more than like twelve seconds, can you? You’re just constantly in pest mode.”
He sighs and presses his thumb and forefinger into his brow. “I’m working on it.” He peers out the barn door. “The creek’s up, so you’re going to have to get a dry shirt from my place. Maybe a hot shower. Alright?”
I bat my eyes up at him and poke my lip out. “Can I borrow a hat too?”
Jake’s chuckle is soft. “You know how it goes with the hats, darlin’.”
I rub my lips together and jam a finger into one of his deep dimples. “Wear the hat, muck the stalls?”
Jake’s laugh is husky as he pulls me into his side, wiggling me as he walks us toward the now-drizzling rain. “That’s exactly it.”