Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Rhett
Mom’s food was the best in Sage County, but I could barely taste it as I choked it down on the only free hay bale left—one that happened to be directly across from Cheyenne. I tried to look anywhere else—the sky, the trees, the guests. But my treacherous eyes kept turning, stealing glances at her as she ate lunch with my little sister.
They were totally different. Beth was like a delicate rose. Prim and proper, sweet and gentle. She was only a few years younger than me, but somehow she was still just a girl in my eyes.
Cheyenne, on the other hand, had grown into an incredible woman. I couldn’t stop myself from watching as she interacted with the guests who came up to thank her for the tour she’d given them. They adored her. Two little boys even insisted on getting their picture taken with her, and she handled it all with grace.
She’d been shy when we were kids. Hell, the first couple years she and Claire were friends, I barely even knew she existed. She always seemed to shrink into herself, like she didn’t want to be noticed by any of the rest of us.
She’d been different with me, once I’d gotten to know her though. Free and happy. I’d always loved how I got to see that side of her. No matter how quiet and reserved she was around everyone else, with me, she’d been completely open. Trusting.
Until I broke that trust.
As I watched her now, it was clear she’d come into her own without me. She was strong and confident. Still quiet, especially compared to Claire, but she didn’t shrink anymore. Was comfortable with who she was and didn’t need me by her side to draw her out. Didn’t know why that surprised me. We’d all grown up. But I felt unexpected pride watching her do her thing.
Unfortunately, watching her also caused an odd ache in my heart. When I’d left all those years ago, I’d never meant it to be a permanent break between me and her. I had to get away from the ranch. Had my reasons for that. But it wasn’t because I’d wanted to leave her.
I gritted my teeth and dug into my chili, trying hard not to look up at the woman sitting across from me. If I’d known I was going to have to see her every damn day on the ranch, I might not have come back at all. Maybe this was what I got for skipping confession the last, oh, fourteen years. Mom would say penance had found me anyway.
After scarfing my food, I got up and headed back to the stables to finish up the stalls. I should have had them finished before lunch, but I was out of practice and I wanted them to be perfect. Wasn’t sure why I was trying so hard to prove myself, but I was. I knew no one expected much out of me.
I was bound and determined to prove them wrong.
Travis came in while I was finishing up the last one. He didn’t say a word as he walked up and down, looking at my work the way Cheyenne had. I bit back the sarcastic remarks bubbling up.
“Nice work,” he finally said, a look of surprise on his face.
“Thanks,” I said gruffly, surprised at what his approval meant to me. “What’s my next job?”
He gave me a level look. “Cheyenne’s taking the next group out in about forty-five minutes. It’s a longer tour, and they won’t be back until dinner. We need to saddle up some fresh horses, make sure she has everything she needs. When she brings them over here, we’ll help riders mount and get the stirrups adjusted for them. Once all the guests are settled and they head out for the tour, I need to ride over and check the cattle. I have a couple of late-season calves due any day now. I’d appreciate the help if you want to come.”
It was the closest thing to a peace offering he could give me. Cattle were his passion. Even offering to let me near them meant something.
I nodded slowly. “I can do that.”
“Okay.” He gave me a nod and turned, heading out.
I followed him, bracing myself for another interaction with Cheyenne. But she wasn’t there. It was just me, Travis, and the horses. He pointed out the ones she’d taken that morning. He’d apparently skipped lunch in order to take their saddles off and turn them out onto the pasture. Those horses were done for the day, so we picked out a fresh batch for the new group based on the ages and sizes of the guests registered.
“Cheyenne will want the two ponies for the littles,” he said, pointing, “and she likes to ride Stormy, the gray mare over there.”
“Fitting,” I mumbled under my breath.
Travis shot me a look. “Can you handle getting those saddled up?”
“Yep.”
“You’ll see the pony saddles in the tack room. Cheyenne’s saddle is the black one. She also takes the black saddlebags with the med kit, and you’ll need to add six bottles of water from the fridge in my office. Beth will carry the rest of the water for the guests, but I’ll take care of prepping her horse.”
“Got it.” I turned away, hiding my scowl.
There was a time when I’d known Cheyenne better than any other person in the world. I’d known her likes, her dislikes. Her favorite movie. The way her eyes fluttered when she slept. How she always kept sugar cubes in her right jacket pocket for the horses. The way she’d throw her head back and laugh when she was on the back of my bike, reveling in the pure freedom of fast roads and sunshine. How her breathing changed when she got excited. How she tasted.
And now, my brother was the one telling me what Cheyenne liked, what she needed. Pissed me off.
But I gritted my teeth and got the job done, trying to block out the memories of all the times I’d saddled a horse for Cheyenne before. Despite the passing years, I found myself doing exactly what I’d always done then—checking every cinch twice more than I’d check my own, needing to know everything was secure.
When I turned and caught her staring at me, I knew she was remembering, too.
“Thanks,” she said, avoiding my eyes as she came to take the reins from me.
“You’re welcome.”
At the sound of my voice, she turned to look at me, saying nothing. I looked into her eyes and almost got swept away in the depths of them. I had to shake myself and walk away, hoping no one noticed.
When we had the group on their way, Travis handed me a walkie-talkie and told me to saddle up a horse for myself.
I eyed him. “Ah. I see. This whole ‘help you check the cattle’ thing was really just so you could laugh at me trying to saddle Diablo.”
He chuckled. “As funny as that would be, no. You can take one of the others.”
“Thank God. I’d rather not die today.”
He scoffed. “Diablo won’t kill you. But he also won’t let you ride him.” He pointed toward a horse near the front of the pasture. “I’d recommend Whisper, the paint horse over there. He likes working cattle.”
“Got it.”
I led Whisper into the stable while Travis got his own horse. Then I fell into step beside him as we headed to the tack room to grab saddles.
“So, again, I ask you. Why do we have that damn horse out here anyway? Not like you to keep a horse around that’s not good for anything.”
Travis was quiet for a beat. “Diablo’s a rescue. Came from the Smiths’ farm. Cheyenne reported Thomas Smith for animal cruelty and Sheriff McGrath confiscated his animals, including Diablo. They all needed places to go. The local rescue didn’t have a spot for him, and Chey couldn’t afford to take on another feed bill. So she asked if we could take him, give her a chance to try to rehabilitate him. She offered to put in extra hours here without pay to help cover his food and board until he can earn his keep.”
A whole range of emotions flooded my chest. Admiration for the woman Cheyenne was—had always been. Anger to hear about Thomas—he’d been in school with me and Cheyenne, and he’d always been a snake. Irritation that she was working for free, to cover someone else’s mistakes.
“You make her do that?” I asked, unable to stop the growl in my voice.
“Of course not,” Travis said, rolling his eyes. He grabbed a saddle and gestured toward one he apparently wanted me to get, then headed back out toward the horses. He rubbed his gorgeous mustang named Steel down. Then he put a blanket on its back, threw his saddle on top, and started working the cinches.
“We can cover hay for one more,” he said, explaining. “Besides, I think Cheyenne’s right. I don’t know if he’ll ever be a solid enough trail horse to use for guests, but he’s got a ton of potential. And if anyone can rehabilitate him, it’s her.”
“I’m surprised she even let you offer him to me,” I admitted. “Last thing I want to do is screw up a rehab.”
He grinned. “Well, getting him used to other people is phase three of her rehabilitation plan. She’s already implemented the first two phases. Besides, I know you. No matter how pissed you get, there’s no way you’re going to let him see it. You know horses, respect them. I knew it would be fine.”
His approval meant something to me, but I ignored it and scoffed. “Seems like she skipped a step if she’s on phase three and he still won’t let anyone saddle him.”
Travis smirked. “Oh, he lets her.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “Yep. She’s ridden him in the training circle several times. He’s skittish but sweet as a baby with her. It’s men he doesn’t trust. She said it will take time for him to realize the men here aren’t like Thomas.”
Pride bloomed in my chest. Of course she could ride him. Cheyenne’s way with animals had always been almost spooky. They trusted her. Always had.
Travis gave me a funny look. “What are you grinning about over there?”
“Nothing,” I said, wiping the look from my face as I adjusted my saddle. “You ready?”
I had to admit, being out on the range with the horses and cattle felt good. It was something I’d always missed. There was nothing like those Wyoming skies stretching out in all directions, that feeling of trotting over the plains on the back of a good horse. I’d been all over the country, but nowhere felt like home the way this did. Ranching had never been my passion, but I’d missed this just the same.
Even though I knew it was a bad idea, part of me wished I could start my business in Wildwood and spend more days like this, out on the land that still had a hold on my heart. It would never work though. Not with Cheyenne hating me and with things always being so damn awkward with my family. The last thing I needed were the constant guilt trips I’d get if I lived here but didn’t work the ranch.
When Travis was content with the condition of his cattle, he motioned back toward the ranch house.
“Race you back?” he called, grinning.
“You’re on,” I muttered under my breath, giving him a hard nod.
He took off like a rocket on his mustang. I tried to catch up, but in the end, it was no contest. He’d beaten me—badly.
Just like he’d known he would.
He was smirking when I finally caught up to him. “What’s the problem?” he asked, ribbing me. “Out of practice?”
I leaned over on my saddle horn and smirked. “Being the first to finish isn’t something for a man to brag about.”
He rolled his eyes but gave me a good-natured laugh. “Come on. Cheyenne’s group will be back soon. Let’s get the horses tended to, then get some dinner. I’m half starved.”
“You’re always hungry.”
He shrugged. “Ranching is hard work. But I guess you wouldn’t know much about that, would you?”
Just like that, the ease between us dissipated and tension returned like an unwanted visitor.
We got the horses unsaddled, brushed down, and settled into their stalls with fresh hay. I managed to avoid Cheyenne through all of it. It wasn’t that hard, considering she was doing the same thing. When she finished answering all the guests’ questions and helped them snap pictures, she came over and pulled Travis aside to talk to him.
Couldn’t help myself. I found an excuse to move closer to hear what they were saying. Wasn’t sure what the first part had been, but as they wrapped up, I heard Travis remind her she was always welcome to stay for dinner, even if…
I knew the end of that sentence.
It made me wonder if she was still a regular at our family dinners. As kids, she’d been here every Friday night—and sometimes more often than that. She had a place at the table right next to mine, and Mom never even bothered asking if she was coming. It was just expected.
If she’d kept that up, even without me here, no wonder my family was still pissed off at me.
I didn’t hear her response, but I saw her slip out, get into her truck, and leave. When she was gone, I approached Travis and asked him if she normally stayed. Hell, if I was going to mess up her routine, then I’d skip dinner and let her eat with the family. It was pretty clear everyone would miss her presence more than mine anyway.
But he shook his head. “She stays if we’re doing a guest dinner out on the yard. Never if it’s just the family. We always invite her anyway—Mom’s orders.”
“Which one is it tonight? Guest dinner or family?”
Mom walked over and answered the question for him. “Just the family.”
I jumped, wondering how much of the conversation she’d heard. Mom had a knack for sneaking up and hearing things we didn’t necessarily want her to.
She looked at me and wrinkled her nose. “Can I make a request?”
“What’s that?”
“Shower,” she said pointedly. “You smell like horse manure.”
“That’s because Travis had me shoveling shit for half the day.”
She bit back a smile. “Well, we appreciate it, I’m sure. But seriously. Don’t come into my kitchen until you’ve cleaned yourself up.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She winked and turned on her heel, walking out. Mom was a petite, feminine woman with a soft voice and a gentle spirit—but all us Hawkins boys knew better than to cross her.
So I finished up my work and headed straight for my new apartment. I jogged up the stairs and saw a note pinned to my door. I walked up and ripped it off, frowning.
Leave. You don’t belong here.
Two sentences that cut me to the core. I scowled and stuffed it into my pocket before heading inside to shower. I loved my family, but this was going too far.
When I was clean and in fresh clothes, I walked over to the main house, feeling like a black cloud. Everyone was congregated in the kitchen, laughing as Travis recounted how he’d told me I had to ride Diablo, then made me muck stalls all morning.
They fell silent when they saw my face. I pulled the note out of my jacket pocket and walked over, shoving it into Travis’s hand.
“This your idea of a joke, too? You really want me gone that bad?”
He looked at the note, his face blank before it turned to a frown. “Where did you get this?”
“It was tacked to my door.”
Mom snatched it out of his hand and read it, her smile disappearing. “Who put this there?” she asked, turning to look at each of her children in turn, a warning look on her face.
They all shook their heads. Beth came over and gently put a hand on my forearm. “I’m sorry we were laughing,” she said. “But you have to know, none of us would put something like this on your door.”
“Then who was it?” I growled.
Jonathan scoffed. “Maybe Cheyenne. It’s gotta be super weird for her that you’re back.”
Mom instantly shook her head. “Cheyenne wouldn’t do that. There are some teens staying in one of the cabins close to the barn, and I’ve had a bad feeling about them from the beginning. They’re probably pulling their idea of a prank. I’ll have a word with their parents tomorrow.”
Travis and I exchanged looks, making a silent agreement. Whether or not that’s what was going on, that’s what Mom needed to believe.
So I deliberately relaxed my features and forced a grin. “You’re probably right. Teenagers. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Exactly.” She smiled, then walked over and pinched my cheek. “You’re mine, and you always belong here. And by the way, without a farmhand, we all take turns shoveling horse shit.”
My mouth dropped at her use of a curse word. I didn’t think I’d ever heard her use one before. She winked at me and turned back to the stove.
“Speaking of which,” I said, turning to Travis. “Why don’t we have a farmhand anymore? What happened to Jimmy?”
“Had to let him go,” Travis answered, shaking his head. “Caught him stealing cash from the office.”
“Man. Bad timing, with Dad’s injury.”
“You’re telling me,” Travis said. “We honestly could have managed okay without him, but Dad’s accident happened two days later. Two men down really left us in a pinch. It’s been brutal, especially with Claire and Cheyenne getting called out on such a long search.”
“That’s terrible,” I said, frowning.
“Jimmy’s asked for his job back three times now.” Travis moved to the fridge, pulled out a couple of beers, and tossed me one. “But if I can’t trust him, there’s no place for him here.”
“Yeah,” I said slowly, cracking my beer open and swallowing down almost half of it at once.
Because I knew Travis didn’t fully trust me, either. And he’d never actually said he wasn’t the one to put that note on my door.