Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10
WILDER
W ilder paced in front of the truck. He couldn’t bring himself to sit down inside it. His heart rabbited in his chest, and his palms were clammy with sweat. If Gary called the police on him for any reason, they’d haul him right back to jail, no questions asked. He was a parolee. One toe even allegedly out of line, and he’d be behind bars before he could say, ‘I’m innocent.’ He’d thought he was immune to this kind of fear after so long on the inside, but one confrontation from Gary and his greatest fear was unearthed.
Jesus, he didn’t want to go back to prison.
Panic clawed up his throat, and his eyes burned. He’d barely begun getting used to life on the outside. It wasn’t fair that the threat of prison was hanging over him again already—and for something so inconsequential. Maybe he’d stolen food a few times, but only because he didn’t have any other choice. It wasn’t like he was cheating the store out of hundreds of dollars. It was bread and cheese, for fuck’s sake. He’d accepted his last sentence. Do the crime, do the time. He knew that. But he hadn’t done anything this time, and he didn’t want to go to prison again because of one old man’s grudge over something he did as a desperate teenager.
And Cash . God, he never wanted somebody like Cash to see the evidence of his unfortunate past. Cash was so strong and steadfast, so careful in everything he said and did. The fact that he heard everything Gary said made him want to crawl into a hole and die.
He would never be able to escape his past. Even though he’d done the time, the choices he’d made would haunt him forever. Nobody here would ever let him forget what he’d done.
Maybe he should leave. He could find another ranch. If he gave his parole officer enough notice, they’d probably let him move to another town. It wasn’t ideal that he was already having problems just a month after getting out, but maybe he was stupid to think he could come back to Roselake and pick up where he left off. Lain could barely look at him. Nobody fucking wanted him here.
No, a little voice in the back of his head said. That wasn’t true. With a shiver, he remembered Cash’s hand on his arm, his voice rumbling softly, ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
Hands took him by the shoulders. Startled, Wilder grabbed the figure by the shirt, preparing to shove them away—until his eyes landed on Cash’s furious scowl. He sucked down a breath, an apology on the tip of his tongue.
“Are you okay? I’ve said your name like three times.” The fury drained from Cash’s face, leaving concern behind.
The words tumbled out of him quickly. “Sorry, I-I’m sorry. Are the police on their way? Are they?—”
“No,” Cash growled. His hands slid across Wilder’s shoulders to cup his face. “No, he didn’t call anyone. No police are coming. You’re safe. I’m not letting anyone take you anywhere.”
Relief hit him so hard his knees shook with it, and the next thing he knew he was being dragged into Cash’s arms, his hat knocked from his head and Cash’s warm pine and leather scent filling his lungs.
“You didn’t deserve that,” Cash said in his ear. “He shouldn’t have treated you like?—”
“Like a criminal?” Wilder rasped. “I am one. He’s right, I stole from this place dozens of?—”
“Hush,” Cash ordered sternly. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t give a shit. You didn’t do it today , so he had no business treating you that way.”
“Cash.” Being in his arms felt too good. It felt too much like real belonging, and that wasn’t something he deserved. He flattened his palms on Cash’s trunk-like waist in a halfhearted effort to push away, but instead his hands settled into place under Cash’s ribs like it was made for the shape of them.
When was the last time anyone hugged him like this? He dug his fingers into Cash’s sturdy sides, hiding his face in the curve of his neck. God , it felt good.
“That’s it,” Cash rumbled, like Wilder was a horse he was trying to coax out of a fit. Strong fingers curled into the back of his short hair, and Wilder went dizzy. He was in danger of getting hard if he kept that up. “I’ve got you.”
He never wanted this to end, but eventually, they had to move. With a tug on his hair, Cash guided Wilder’s head up. He swallowed back a moan at the treatment. It had been a long time since anyone had dared to manhandle him like that, and he liked it more than he wanted to admit, even in the privacy of his own mind.
“Wilder?” Cash asked gently.
He nodded. “I’m okay.” Coloring with embarrassment, he tried to extricate himself. He’d just clung to his boss at the first sign of affection. But before he could pull away, Cash caught him, cradling his face and drawing him close again.
“Hey, don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” Wilder asked, desperate to rebuild his walls but ensnared by Cash’s kindness.
“Don’t pull away. Don’t shut me out.”
He had to. It was the only way he’d survive.
“Shouldn’t we get moving? We have frozen stuff—wait, where’s the groceries?”
Cash sighed, like this response disappointed him. “I put them in the truck already when you wouldn’t respond to me.”
Wilder carded his fingers roughly through his hair. “I’m sorry. I should have been paying more attention.”
“You were freaking out, and that’s okay. Grab your hat and get in the truck.”
Cash’s hands lingered on him until he turned away, stooping to pick up his hat and then climbing in the passenger seat. He handed the keys back to Cash, and electricity buzzed under his skin at the brush of their fingers. He jerked away quickly, settling back against the door with his hat in his hands, fidgeting with the brim as Cash guided the truck out onto the road.
Neither of them spoke until they were outside Roselake proper. He felt Cash’s gaze on him a couple of times, but he avoided returning it. He was mortified Cash had seen him like that, as scared and small as he’d always felt under Dad’s thumb. He’d reacted to Gary the same way he used to react to Dad, cowering at the first sign of aggression from an older figure of authority.
Prison hadn’t helped that instinct. The guards hadn’t been unnecessarily cruel, but they’d been hard-asses. He’d been shoved and smacked and threatened with solitary for every tiny infraction. They had power and they knew it, flexing it every time anyone stepped a toe out of line. He’d done his best to avoid their attention altogether. His fellow prisoners were a different story. He didn’t have the same reaction to them, and making a name for himself among them had been relatively easy once he got the hang of the way prison worked.
He didn’t want Cash to think he had to worry about him, though. He wasn’t that same kid, and he wasn’t going to steal anything. Maybe he needed to explain himself, prove he wasn’t that same stupid, desperate kid.
He cleared his throat, staring down at his hat. “He wasn’t—totally wrong, you know.”
In his periphery, he saw Cash glance over at him. “I know,” Cash said softly.
Wilder tried to ignore the burning of his face. “I didn’t take much. Never more than I needed. Dad would go on these long benders, and Lain and I would go weeks without groceries. We didn’t have any money—Dad would have lost his shit if we got jobs in town. He thought it would make the ranch look weak if we sought work elsewhere. Didn’t matter that he was drinking away the money faster than the ranch could pull it in. So I… Yeah, I stole shit from the store sometimes. But I had to.” He hated the way his voice cracked. “I knew it was wrong. Lain told me not to. He always told me not to, told me it was wrong like I didn’t already know . I’d just grit my teeth and do it anyway, because if I didn’t feed us, who would?”
Cash reached over without looking, snagging Wilder’s wrist and pulling it into the space between them. He threaded their fingers together, and Wilder stared at their hands, at the way they fit together like puzzle pieces. Cash’s grip was tight but not painful, his thumb sweeping back and forth across his knuckles in a way that made Wilder’s stomach swoop.
“You did what you had to do to survive,” Cash said. “I’ll never judge you for that.”
“Why not?” Wilder croaked before he could think better of it.
Cash glanced at him, his eyes flinty. “What do you mean?”
“Why don’t you judge me? Everyone else does. Most of the time I don’t even care. But you, you’ve never treated me like the rest of them. You don’t treat me like a wild animal that might snap at any minute. Why?”
His heart jumped into his throat as the truck swerved off the road, coming to a stop on a dirt path in front of a random fence gate. It was deserted for now, and dust billowed around the windows as Cash put the truck in park and turned to face Wilder with a grave expression.
“You listen to me and you listen good,” Cash said sternly. “You’re one of the hardest workers on the ranch. When Billy started in on you that night at the dinner table, you didn’t take the bait. You even loaded the goddamn dishwasher without having to be told, wiped your hands of Billy’s bullshit and walked off without getting angry. You work tirelessly with Blaze. You’re patient and calm with him, as understanding of that horse as I wish everyone could be with you. You committed a crime as a kid who didn’t see any other way out. I don’t think you should be punished for the rest of your life because of that. I think the system let you down. I think this whole town let you down. And I’ll be damned if I sit there and watch them treat you like shit for the rest of your life because they were all too cowardly to stand up for a couple of kids who needed help.”
Wilder’s throat ached with the effort he made not to give in to the tears. He couldn’t speak around it, and his eyes burned. He was sure that if he looked at Cash’s earnest expression, he’d shatter. Instead, he shook his hand free and reached for his bottle of water, opening it and taking a long sip. Cash sat back, ducking his head to massage his forehead and maybe give Wilder a moment to compose himself.
When he finally felt like he could speak, he rasped, “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve having you in my corner, Cash, but… I’m glad you are.”
It didn’t feel like enough to encompass everything Cash meant to him, but he didn’t dare reach for anything more. He was lucky enough to have Cash’s friendship. Hell, he’d even trusted him enough to come out to him. Just because Cash was bisexual didn’t mean anything would happen between them. Wilder had just been in prison so long that a genuine friendship looked like more to him. That was all it was.
When they got back to the ranch, Clyde was waiting to help them unload the groceries in the bunkhouse, and, not wanting there to be too many proverbial cooks in the literal kitchen, Wilder made his way to the barn to find something to do for the day.
Across the yard, Blaze trotted restlessly. Wilder was going to ride him today. He was sure of it. He’d put a saddle on him, and Blaze would tolerate it long enough for a taste of freedom. They both needed it.
Since everyone else was already scattered across the ranch doing various jobs, Wilder put himself to work cleaning out the horse stalls. It was smelly, tedious work, but he didn’t mind it. It gave his hands something to do while his mind raced.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d let himself be so vulnerable with someone. He trusted Cash more than just about anyone. A part of him wanted to be humiliated by the way he’d reacted to Gary and how he’d behaved after, but it was so cathartic he couldn’t truly bring himself to regret it.
Sometimes, he admitted to himself, he missed prison. It was easier, in a way. He knew where he stood amongst the other inmates. There was no second-guessing or floundering for what was right. It was all about survival. During his first weeks inside, he’d been heartbroken. Sentenced to ten years, he’d mourned for the life he’d lost. Not just the one he’d known, but the life he could have had. He’d dreamed of one day being in charge of the ranch, running it the way it deserved, or cutting out on his own with Lain and finding a new ranch all their own. But suddenly he was locked away. Everything would be different when he finally got out, and what was more, he felt like the boy he’d once been had died with his father. He would be a felon for life because of what he’d done. By the time he got out, everyone he knew would be out of college and working. While they found careers and spouses and had children, he would be stagnant. He’d had to come to terms with that. He’d spent many nights silently crying himself to sleep, wishing desperately that things could have been different. That someone else had stepped in and done the hard thing so he could go on being a kid for just a little while longer.
But after he was done feeling sorry for himself, he’d locked away those childish emotions and focused on the present. Prison was his life, and he had to make do with the hand he’d been given. So he’d made a name for himself amongst the inmates, turned himself into the kind of person no one would mess with. It was the easiest way to protect himself. He was lucky that the things he’d done while behind bars had gone unnoticed, or at least unsolved by the guards. Nobody, not even the guards, cared about what happened to some of the worst guys he’d gone up against.
He wasn’t a good man. He was a survivor, and he always had been. Cash deserved better than he could offer, even in friendship. There was a lot more to life than surviving; he’d just never known anything else. And in prison, he’d started from scratch. None of the inmates knew him when he arrived, and while they’d seen a scrawny, eighteen-year-old kid, he’d been able to prove himself to them in time. Out here, he was already known. His past followed him like a dark specter, looming over every interaction. He could never escape it.
Two years. That was all he had to do here on the ranch. Maybe less, if he could save up enough money to eke out a living elsewhere and get the approval of the courts for a move. He liked Cash, but enough to build a future here? He didn’t think so. One person’s friendship couldn’t assuage a lifetime of bad decisions. A clean start somewhere else was his best option, no matter how much he liked Cash.
“How come we’ve never met before, Uncle Wilder?”
The little voice—and girl—appeared out of nowhere directly in front of him, and he nearly smacked himself in the face with his own shovel.
“Jesus!”
She giggled, covering her mouth. “I’m sorry. Did I scare you?”
“I—No. It’s fine.” He cleared his throat. “What’d your dad tell you?”
“That you were somewhere far away.”
It was about eight hours from the prison to Roselake, so it wasn’t actually a lie. “He’s not wrong.” He scraped up some more horse dung from the stall he was in and passed her to dump it in the wheelbarrow.
“Where have you been, then?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“No. He said it was grownup stuff.”
“Then what makes you think I’ll tell you?”
Her blue eyes narrowed. “Were you a spy?”
He snorted. “No.”
“Were you on the run?”
“Who would I be running from?”
She paused. “Daddy?”
He frowned. “I wouldn’t have come back then, would I?”
Annalise put her hands on her hips. “Tell me, Uncle Wilder! You can tell me! I’m a big girl now. Daddy says so. He says I have to be a big girl because I’ll have little brothers to help take care of.”
Wilder’s chest tightened at the reminder. “Does he know you’re calling me Uncle Wilder?” He couldn’t imagine Lain would care for that.
Her head tilted in confusion. “You are, aren’t you? You’re his brother. I heard them in the kitchen saying you were my uncle.”
“You did, huh?” He resisted the urge to ask what else they’d said. Just because it was about him didn’t mean it was his business. They could have whatever opinion about him they wanted, and he was probably better off not knowing. “Listen, kid, I’ve got to finish up in here. Why don’t you run off and find that turkey of yours?”
“Perdita’s with Pongo and the rest of the flock behind the house. Momma had to shoo them away from the laundry line while she was hanging clothes up.”
“Maybe you should go help her guard the clean clothes.”
“No, she’s done now.”
He blew out a breath, propping the shovel up against the wall and going to the wheelbarrow with his very chatty shadow trailing after him.
“I want to come with you when you go into Blaze’s paddock today.”
“Hell no.”
Annalise gasped, and he stopped, turning to look at her with wide eyes.
“You didn’t hear that.”
She looked scandalized. “You said a bad word.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did. I heard you.”
“You didn’t hear shit— goddammit .”
Her mouth fell open. “I’ve never heard Daddy cuss before.”
“Yeah, I know. He’s a saint.”
“What’s a saint?”
“Uh,” he cast about for something that wouldn’t sound jaded and sarcastic, “a very good person.”
“Oh, yeah. That makes sense.” She nodded, her long ponytail bobbing along behind her.
He dumped the wheelbarrow at the compost pile, and she waited in the sunlight, rocking from side to side like she physically couldn’t stand still.
“Why are you still standing there?” he asked when he turned the wheelbarrow around.
“I told you. I want to go with you into?—”
“And I told you no .”
She met his eyes for a long, measured moment. “No you didn’t. You told me?—”
“Don’t—”
“ Hell no,” she hissed, and then dissolved into wild giggles.
He laughed despite his better judgment. “Come on . Don’t tell your parents I said bad words in front of you, okay? They probably already think I’m a bad influence.”
“Why would you be a bad influence?”
A jolt of panic cut through him. He hadn’t meant to say that. Luckily, they arrived back at the barn. He parked the wheelbarrow, tugged his work gloves off, and said, “All right, listen. If you’ll run up to the bunkhouse and grab an apple, I’ll let you feed Blaze a little treat. How about that?”
She brightened. “Okay!” She ran through the barn and out the other side to cross the yard toward the bunkhouse, and he breathed a sigh of relief as she went.
He walked around to Blaze’s paddock and reached the fence at the same time that Annalise came barreling out of the bunkhouse. Slower on her heels, emerging into the sun’s rays like a god of light, was Cash. Wilder’s eyes lingered on him, the long length of his jean-clad legs, the way his hunter green shirt hugged his shoulders. He turned, and when their eyes met, the rest of the world fell away.
God, he had it bad.
“I got two, Uncle Wilder, is that okay?” Annalise asked, drawing his attention away from the beautiful cowboy across the yard.
“You trying to spoil him or something?” he asked gruffly, and she laughed.
“Maybe! I want him to like me.”
“Come on, then. Climb on up.” He stood behind her while she climbed halfway up the fence. She’d probably done this a thousand times, but he was paranoid about her getting hurt on his watch. For some crazy reason, this little girl trusted him, and he’d rather saw off his own arm than let her down.
Blaze had already spotted them at the fence, and when Wilder clicked his tongue, he drifted over, swishing his black tail. His ears were trained toward them, his liquid black eyes wary.
“He doesn’t know you yet,” Wilder explained, “and he doesn’t trust easy.”
“I know. I’ve been watching you work with him. He likes you, and I want him to like me. So I’ll act like you.” She clicked her tongue just as he did and held the apple out, waiting.
Wilder didn’t move, pursing his lips to hide the smile that tried to form. It was… strangely flattering that she’d taken the time to learn and emulate how he behaved. Lain had surely taught her how to act around horses, but he appreciated that she had faith in the way he handled Blaze.
As he suspected, Blaze took a while to work up the courage to come closer. When Annalise’s arm started to waver, he slid a little closer and tucked his hand under hers, taking the weight of her arm for her. She blew out a quiet breath of relief.
“Come on, boy,” he said gently. “You know me. And I know you want this apple.”
Blaze snorted softly, closing in on them. Beside him, Annalise inhaled and froze, like she was afraid to even breathe.
“It’s okay,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her so he could brace it against the fence on her other side. “Just stay still. He wants it so bad, he’s gonna risk it.”
“He’s so pretty,” she breathed. “I’ve never seen a prettier horse.”
Warmth bloomed in his chest. He’d never expected to be here, admiring a horse with Lain’s beautiful daughter, who trusted him enough to stand so close, to listen to his advice. In this moment, he felt like he belonged. On this ranch, with this horse and this little girl, earning their trust one apple at a time, whether he deserved it or not. Neither of them knew about his past. Neither of them cared. This moment together was all that mattered.
When he turned his head, he realized Cash was still behind them. Closer now, quietly observing. The warmth blossomed into a hot flush.
“I know,” he said, unable to take his eyes off Cash. “He’s beautiful.”
After dinner, Wilder returned to Blaze’s paddock. Putting the pad and saddle on the mustang’s back was easier than coaxing him to take the bridle. He considered the benefits of a bitless halter, but he’d like to at least know Blaze could use a regular bit if needed.
The sun cast molten colors across the horizon as he gave Blaze time to get used to the weight of the saddle on his back and the reins touching his neck. The others were out at the fire pit again, and he felt eyes on him as he gave Blaze time. The horse shuffled in place a little but remained calm. It was a good sign. When he was sure Blaze was settled, he grabbed the saddlehorn and lifted himself up.
“There we go, boy,” he cheered gently.
Blaze took off, loping around the paddock. He fussed at first, but soon he was letting Wilder guide him. He turned him in the opposite direction, ran a few figure-eights, and worked on starting and stopping. And when he was sure Blaze would take direction when needed, he stood in the stirrups and waved Cash over, who was watching him. Always watching him.
“Open the gate for me, would you?” he asked breathlessly.
Cash lingered at the gate lock, his eyes reflecting the same excitement that thrummed through Wilder. “He’s ready?”
“He’s so ready it’s killing him. Open it up.”
Cash inclined his head, grinning wide as he unhooked the gate and swung it open wide.
“Go, boy,” he urged, with the barest nudge against Blaze’s sides.
That was all it took. Hooves skidded in the loose dirt as Blaze bolted. Someone whooped excitedly as they blew past the fire pit. Wilder’s hat flew off, and he tucked himself down, holding the reins slack so Blaze could stretch his neck out and run wide open.
It felt like flying.
The ranch was beautiful. Snow-capped mountains rose into the sunset-streaked sky in the distance. The wind whipped his clothing, and Wilder kept himself low, holding the reins loose so Blaze could keep his gait wide and fast.
This wasn’t the first time he’d run the ranch on horseback, but for the first time in his life, the looming shadow of his father didn’t overwhelm the moment. There was no threat of pain or anger waiting for him at home, no smacks to the ear followed by drunken bluster. The shadow of his crime paled in comparison to the torment Dad had put him through; he would take that over the weight of his father’s presence any day.
But here, in the hills and valleys of the ranch, running wild and free, none of that mattered. The unhappiness of the past couldn’t touch him here. All that existed were him and Blaze, each powerful crash of hooves against the ground taking them further and further toward the promise of the future.
On the crest of a hill overlooking the mountains, he let go of the reins entirely and stood in the stirrups, raising his arms out to his sides and taking the full brunt of their speed. The air had a bite to it, cold and so clean he felt as though it was blowing away the horrors of his past. None of it mattered here.
They ran until his thighs and back ached and Blaze’s neck was slick with sweat. When he guided the horse to turn around, their pace slowed. Blaze recognized that they were going back, and that was less exciting than running away had been.
“Don’t worry, we’ll do this again tomorrow,” Wilder promised.