Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Cheyenne
I pulled up to my refuge, the log cabin my grandfather had built in the beautiful Ponderosa pine forest on the bottom slopes of the Bighorns. The two-bedroom house wasn’t much, but it was mine. I loved living tucked away in the woods, far away from the tourists who came to Wildwood every summer. Today, I was even more grateful for my private oasis—and for the sight of my dog, Ash, on the front porch. She rose from where she’d been sleeping and stretched her lithe body, yawning. Then she sat down, tail wagging, and resumed her role as guardian of the house while she waited for me to get out.
This was what I loved about dogs and horses. Unconditional love.
After today, I needed that more than ever.
I walked up my front porch steps and crouched, throwing both arms around Ash’s neck.
“Hey, girl,” I whispered, stroking her thick, gray fur. I pulled back and she covered my face in wet, sloppy kisses. The heartache I’d been carrying all day began to ease.
I turned and sat on the porch beside her, taking in a deep breath as I sank into the peace of the quiet woods surrounding me. I only had ten acres of my own, but my land butted up against the boundaries of Bighorn National Forest, giving me a million acres of rugged wilderness for a backyard.
I loved the solitude. I would forever be grateful for the Hawkins family and how they’d made sure I was never truly alone in this world. I’d even grown to enjoy the guests who were so thrilled to experience a bit of ranch life. But at the end of the day, I was happiest here. It was home, and it brought me peace.
Unfortunately, that peace was disturbed when I heard a vehicle coming down the road. I frowned. My cabin was well out of the way, a good fifteen-minute drive to the town of Wildwood. No one came here unless it was on purpose.
I sighed when I saw the familiar beater car pull into my driveway.
Jimmy got out, his wiry frame looking even thinner than it had, desperation painted all over his face.
“Hey, Cheyenne,” he said. It came out almost like a plea.
“Hey, Jimmy.”
“Did you talk to Travis about getting me my job back?”
I nodded slowly. “I asked him if there was anything you could do to earn his trust again. But you know Travis. Once a bridge is burned, it’s hard going back with him, and stealing from the ranch is a big deal.”
His shoulders sagged. “I’ve got to have that job, Cheyenne.”
I felt bad for him. He’d never opened up much about his home life, but I knew he’d bounced around in foster care until he turned eighteen. I also knew that the job at Falcon Ridge Ranch had been a big step up for him. They paid generously and treated their employees with respect. I wished he hadn’t screwed it up, but some people seemed to sabotage everything good in their lives.
Like Rhett, but I didn’t want to think of that tonight.
“Do you need money to get you by for a bit?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’m not taking money from you. Talk to Travis again. Please?”
“I will. You know, Pete might be able to use you at the bar. Dishwashing or something?”
A disgusted look crossed his face. “It’s not the same. It’s not being out on the ranch with the horses.”
Jimmy loved the horses almost as much as I did.
“It’s something,” I said firmly. “And right now, that’s what matters, right? Maybe if you work somewhere, do a good job, and earn some trust back…”
He dropped his head. “You don’t trust me, either, do you?”
“I don’t understand, Jimmy. Why did you do it? You had free room and board, plus very decent pay for what you did. Why take from them?”
But he wouldn’t answer. “Just talk to him,” he repeated, avoiding my eyes. “I’ll do anything.”
He got in his car and drove away.
The next day went by in a blur. Travis had scheduled a full day of ninety-minute tours. They were my least favorite, as it meant retracing the same small loop over and over again. Even the horses got bored. But we often had guests who weren’t horse experienced and who were afraid to commit to longer rides. So we made the best of it, even though it made the day a bit more boring. It also created more work, since we had to change over riders more frequently.
I groaned when I saw the schedule, not only because of the rides, but because it meant more opportunities for me to be in the barn with Rhett. Thankfully, it was Claire’s day off, so she was helping out. With her and Beth both there, we were able to run the trail ride side of things by ourselves, while Travis and Rhett worked to repair fencing all day.
I told myself I was relieved, but even knowing he was there on the property was a distraction. I struggled to follow what Claire was saying when she tried to talk to me, and I found myself looking for him every time we turned back toward the barn. During lunch, I kept glancing around, wondering if he and Travis would show up—and felt deeply disappointed when they didn’t.
When our last group finished, Claire slung an arm around my shoulder. “How bad was it yesterday?”
“It was fine.”
“Why do you even try to lie to me? I’m your best friend. I can read you like a book.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help a smile. “Okay. It was awkward. Painful. Brought back a thousand memories I’d rather forget. But I got through it, and every day will get easier, right?”
She studied me. “No part of you wants to start things up again?”
I shook my head. “That ship has sailed. Besides, there was a moment yesterday when we were alone…”
“What?” she demanded.
“Nothing,” I said, shrugging. “He asked if Travis and I were together.”
She almost fell over laughing at the idea.
“And he said if he’d known I worked here, he wouldn’t have bothered coming back.”
It stung, even now.
She stopped laughing and frowned. “He said that?”
“Yep.” I turned and started unsaddling Stormy.
“Rude.”
I shrugged again. “It’s how he feels. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near me. Obviously, something about me made him run for the hills ten years ago.” I attempted a laugh, but it came out strangled. I hadn’t been enough for my father, who greatly preferred the son he’d created with his second wife. I hadn’t been enough for my mother, who left me behind in Wyoming when she got a job as a flight attendant, practically forgetting she even had a child here. And I hadn’t been enough for Rhett, either. Clearly, the problem was me.
“Is that what you think?” Rhett’s voice, dark and angry, made me freeze in place.
I turned slowly, facing him.
He stood in the doorway, his fists at his sides. Storms raged in his eyes. “You think I left because something was wrong with you? Because you weren’t enough? ” His voice was demanding.
Claire slipped backward, then turned the corner and disappeared out of the barn altogether.
Traitor.
“I didn’t say something was wrong with me. I said you thought there was something wrong with me.” I fought to keep my voice steady, and I nearly succeeded.
He went a long time without saying anything.
I waited.
“You’re wrong.” His face tightened, like speaking was painful. “You were everything.”
He turned to leave.
I couldn’t help myself. “And yet,” I called after him, “you left anyway.”
He stopped, clenching that fist again. Then he released it and walked away without another word.
All I wanted to do was run away. Leave, go back to my little sanctuary in the woods, and forget all about Rhett Hawkins. But I’d already skipped working with Diablo yesterday. His progress had been steady, and I didn’t want to miss an opportunity to move forward with him.
But first, I needed to get my head on straight. I’d always been so careful to only work with Diablo when I was my very best: calm, stable, steady. All things that described me most days. That is, until Rhett came back. Now my emotions were a rollercoaster—one I didn’t particularly want to be on.
I shook myself and took a deep breath, walking through the stable toward the front entrance, planning to get myself straight. But as I walked past Diablo’s stall, he reached out and nudged me with his black nose.
I stopped, smiling despite everything. “Hey, boy,” I whispered, taking a moment to stroke his velvet. “Miss me?”
The horse nudged me again, in a way that almost looked like a human nod. He bent his neck down, sniffing my pocket.
“I see,” I said, grinning as I slipped my hand inside the fabric and pulled out the sugar cubes he loved so much. “You’re wanting something sweet, huh? Not going to lie, I could go for a dessert today, too. Maybe some huckleberry ice cream,” I murmured, stroking my hand down his neck.
He nudged me again and gave a little whine.
“What do you say?” I asked, searching his eyes with my own. “Want to go for a ride?”
He nudged my pocket again.
“Alright, alright. One more.” I gave him another sugar cube and made a decision. Tonight, I’d try taking him out on the trail.
He’d done well with me in the ring, but I was aware that the trail was a different story. He could be a natural, or all his anxieties could come raging back. We’d have to take it slow. Stick to the plains, where he wouldn’t have to deal with any crazy terrain or trees that could hide a predator. I wanted his first trail ride with me to be as safe and controlled as I could make it.
I led him out of the stall, judging his mood today. He was wary, keeping an eye out for anyone else. As docile as he’d been with me, I knew that it would take time for his trust to extend to the rest. I wasn’t sure why he’d given it to me so easily, except that I was the one who’d gotten him out of that torturous situation with Thomas. Animals had more intelligence than people often gave them credit for. When I’d witnessed the cruelty on Thomas’s farm, I made Diablo a promise that I would do something about it. It was something Diablo seemed to remember.
“Here you go, boy,” I said, bringing the saddle pad up to his nose, then gently brushing it along his neck.
He’d often gotten nervous about being saddled, and I’d worked hard to desensitize him. He tensed but didn’t move. I kept talking to him, soothing, before finally putting it on his back. Then, I gave him another sugar cube.
“Good job,” I praised, stroking his face. “You know what’s next.”
I brought the saddle over, going through the same steps to desensitize him before throwing it onto his back, making sure the far stirrup cleared him. He shuddered briefly but seemed okay.
“Excellent. Maybe one more treat.”
I worked his cinches slowly. He’d never kicked me, but he’d attempted kicking everyone else who’d tried to saddle him, and I wasn’t about to let my guard down.
He did well though. In fact, he seemed more at ease than I’d ever seen him. I swore he was going easy on me on purpose.
“You know I’m having a rough day, don’t you?” I murmured, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He whinnied in response.
“Okay. Let’s see how you like getting out of the ring. You ready?”
After one last quick check, I swung into the saddle. He turned toward the training ring, but I pulled his reins.
“Not today, buddy. We’re going on an adventure.”
He was hesitant at first but followed my lead. I took him out toward the area where we did “trail rides” for young, first-time riders. It was flat terrain with a great view and no significant obstacles for him to deal with.
After a few minutes, I could practically feel his pleasure.
“You like this, huh?” I asked, smiling.
I did, too. I felt the strain of the day begin to melt away as I relaxed into the saddle and finally breathed. It was different, riding without being responsible for everyone behind me. There was something almost sacred about being out here, just me and my horse. It was a feeling that never got old, no matter how many years I’d spent doing this, and I was grateful for every minute of it.
“What do you think?” I asked him, leaning forward to pat him on the neck. “You wanna try a trot?”
Not feeling any tension, I squeezed my legs, signalling him. He instantly picked up the pace. I grinned, thrilled with how responsive he was. He seemed as happy to be out here as I was.
After half an hour, I turned back toward the barn, pleased by how the training had gone. But when we got close, I saw Rhett sitting on the fence, watching us. His dark figure cut against the fading sunlight, washing out his features. But I’d know him anywhere.
All my tension instantly returned. Diablo felt it and backtracked nervously.
“It’s okay,” I said, patting his neck. “We’re okay.”
I took the long way around, avoiding Rhett, then took an extra-long time getting Diablo settled. But when I finally headed out toward my truck, Rhett was leaned up against the front of the barn with his arms crossed and one black snakeskin boot propped up against the siding.
“Never would have believed it,” he said, his low voice startling me.
I stopped and turned toward him. “Never would have believed what?”
“That you could actually saddle and ride that damn horse. Then again, you’ve always had a spooky way with animals.”
I jangled my keys purposefully. “I’m headed out for the night. Do you need something?”
The silence lingered a little too long before he dropped his boot to the ground and stepped toward me.
“I need you to know I didn’t leave because something was wrong with you. Can’t believe you’d even think that.”
“Okay.” I didn’t trust myself to form a coherent sentence. He was standing so close to me, with that magnetic energy that had always pulled me in, looking at me with eyes that swam with emotion. It was too dangerous. Like standing on the side of a cliff in winds that threatened to make you lose your balance and fall into the depths below.
“Chey, I don’t expect you to ever forgive me for leaving like I did. But we were kids, and we aren’t anymore. And apparently, we’re going to be working together. Think we can at least figure out a way to be friends?”
Friends. That was how we’d started once. It had quickly turned to something so much more, like a tornado dropping from an unassuming storm without warning. Friends was a safe word that I knew from experience wasn’t safe at all when it came to me and Rhett. But what other choice did I have, really? Until he left, he was right. We had to work together. I couldn’t avoid him forever.
“Friends might be too strong a word,” I said carefully. “But we can at least be civil colleagues.”
“I guess I’ll take it,” he said. “Goodnight, Cheyenne.”
“Goodnight, Rhett.”
I got into my truck and drove home, feeling like I’d made a deal with the devil.