Chapter 12 #2
I finally pulled away, meeting her dark, steady stare for a moment before glancing at her back leg. She favored it, keeping it up unless she absolutely needed to. I’d need to start hand-walking her. Slowly. For little amounts of time and gradually build that tendon back up again.
Tomorrow we’d start.
I ran my hand down the bridge of her nose a final time before backing out of her stall. As I latched the door, she snorted, pinning her ears back.
My shoulders sagged. What had I done? But she wasn’t looking at me, I realized.
“Well, I’ll be damned…” Uncle Bad’s gruff voice sent me jumping back a step. “You got magic in them hands of yours, boy?”
I shook my head.
Bad spit some dip out the side of his mouth, his lips pulling up into a satisfied smirk. “You got somethin’. That’s for damn sure.” He turned for the front of the barn, waving me on to follow.
I did so in silence, falling into step beside him as we walked outside, the moon shining down on us from a star-flecked sky.
“You heard us in the kitchen?” he asked, his boots scraping against the dirt.
For a split second, I almost shook my head. But I knew the consequences for lying. Dad beat that into me. Literally. Unable to meet Uncle Bad’s gaze, I nodded.
Bad cleared his throat, pulling off his cowboy hat to run his hands through his light brown hair—the same color as Cash’s. I could see so much of my cousin in him. They were like carbon copies of one another.
“I appreciate the honesty.”
Another nod from me.
“Hey, look at me.” His voice always held a sharp edge to it, even when he wasn’t angry. It was hard to read. And I liked to think I was pretty good at reading people cuz of my dad. But I never knew with Uncle Bad.
I took a shaky breath, my gaze finally settling on him. My hands trembled, the nerves tingling painfully.
“I ain’t mad, and I ain’t gonna hit ya.”
I flinched on instinct. I couldn’t help it. I was so used to my dad doing it that just the word set me on edge.
His hard hazel gaze softened, and he nodded as if he understood. He reached out a hand, like he was going to grip my shoulder, but pulled back at the last instant. I appreciated that; the burns still hurt.
“Your dad…did he hurt ya?”
I shrugged.
Bad shook his head, a streak of anger flashing across his face like lightning.
He spit out the side of his mouth once more.
“Well, you don’t gotta worry about that no more.
” He looked to the ground, kicking at the dirt with his boot a moment before meeting my gaze one more?
“How much did you hear?” he asked. “All of it?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. So, you know about the deal between your aunt and I.”
I dipped my head, even though it wasn’t so much a question as a statement.
“Think we can make some progress in three weeks?”
I nodded once more, even though a traitorous part of me whispered little bits of doubt in my mind, my heart. What if Bad couldn’t help? What if he was wasting his time? I didn’t want to disappoint them. Not after everything they’d done.
I have to try.
He rubbed his stubbled jaw a moment before spitting once more. “Alright. Your daddy let you ride much?”
I waved my hand in a so-so gesture, pulling my shoulders up in a shrug once more, hoping he’d understand I meant a little bit.
“We’ll find out,” he replied, glancing back at the barn behind me.
“Starting tomorrow, your job is to rehab that mare. She’s your responsibility.
I want you soakin’ that back foot twice a day in Epsom salts, and hand walkin’ her three times.
That’s includin’ weekends. If we can’t get her walkin’ again, we’ll have to put her down. And no one else can go near her.”
I nodded. I could do that. Better yet, I wanted to do it. Busying myself always gave me a sense of purpose. Made me feel valuable.
Uncle Bad’s lips quirked up as he gestured toward the house. We fell in step with each other again as he spoke. “You ever worked with babies before?”
I shook my head.
He blew out a chuckle. “Well, ain’t no better time to start. Day begins at 4 am tomorrow mornin’. Sound good?”
Another nod.
Bad’s lips curled up into a grin. “Ain’t too many kids eager to wake up that early. You just might have what it takes to be a true cowboy, Maverick.”
Present day
Smoke filled my nose; it burned a path down to my lungs. Panic surged to life in me, the memory of Bad and I rippling and morphing into something else entirely. Flames. Screams. Pain.
I thrashed and called out, but choked on the taste of ash in my mouth. It coated my tongue, my throat. A warm, heavy weight settled on my chest, but it did little to ease the panic brewing within me.
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up.
My eyes snapped open, my breathing labored and shallow. No fire or smoke greeted me. Only darkness. Darkness and a soft whine.
I squinted, reaching out a hand toward my chest and feeling fur. A dog. Whose dog? Memories came flooding back through my mind. Cheyenne. The fire. Brandy.
I sat up and pet her softly, letting her lean into the touch. She smelled like smoke. So, that explained the scent.
I focused my breathing, urging it to slow, to even out. I didn’t want to start coughing again. My throat still felt tight, like any second my lungs would seize up and stop working all together.
You’re okay. There’s no more fire. It’s okay.
But it’s like my mind and heart weren’t speaking the same language. I knew I was okay, that the worst had passed, but my heart, my irrational heart, just couldn’t comprehend.
A voice cut through the quiet, just as light spilled into the room, chasing away the darkness. Standing there in the doorway with her hair a wild mess of curls and bathed in warm, buttery light, Cheyenne might as well have been an angel.
“Maverick. You okay?”