Chapter 5
FIVE
ISHA
"Please, please, please, Isha," Ace begged as I opened my suitcase.
I was livid. I couldn't believe he'd sold me out as he had. The way he talked about me and how I had little money. I'd never lied about it, never pretended to be above my station.
"Ace, I thought we were at least friends, but the way you treated me was abominable."
I sat down on the bed next to my empty suitcase.
"I'm sorry. I got carried away. Caitlyn is almost ready to come back. You're so beautiful that she's crazy jealous."
"And that's all I've got going for me? That I'm beautiful?"
"Well, yeah," Ace remarked casually, and then realizing what he'd said, he sighed. "You know I didn't mean it like that. Come on, Isha, you know how you look."
Here we go again. How did it matter how I looked? Looks could change in a minute.
A girl I was with in the home when I was sixteen was absolutely gorgeous, until her boyfriend slashed her face when she tried to dump him.
She'd been so distraught about her scars that she died by suicide.
That was when I learned that beauty was surface deep, and you couldn't rely on how you looked to survive.
"You have to treat me with respect, Ace," I urged softly. It wasn't my style to yell and scream. I mean, no one gives a crap that you're upset. If you want to get through to someone, you use your words carefully and push your message out.
"I will. I promise." He took my hands in his. "Come on, isn't this place lovely? Aren't you having a good vacation?"
"Not if it means I have to sit through another dinner like last night. But…all in all, Ace, I'm cutting my vacation short," I told him.
"But you don't have a place in London, Isha."
Apparently, I didn't have a place here, either, and I was afraid, terrified that, if I stayed, I'd fall into bed or, worse, in love with Rowan. I didn't have experience with the kind of chemistry that was detonating between us—I didn't know where it would lead.
"I'll give you another five days, and then I'm out of here." I'd find a bedsit or sleep on Yasmine's sofa, if need be.
“Thanks, Isha.” He leaned down to kiss my forehead. “You’re my godsend, you know that?”
I shrugged. What had possessed me to say yes to this madcap scheme? I didn’t even know this man, and here I was, thousands of miles away from home in the middle of nowhere.
“Ace, just make sure I’m not treated the way I was. I don’t deserve that. Alright?”
“I promise.”
After he left my room, I put the suitcase away, and sent Yasmine a message.
Me: Coming home earlier than planned. Montana air is not suiting me, and Ace is a little bit of a shallow git.
Yasmine: What a pity! He seemed like one of the good ones. Well, no harm. Just come home.
Me: I need a place to stay.
Yasmine: No worries, luv. Come home! You can sleep on the sofa. Derek and I'll try not to shag too loudly.
Me: Yeah, no one needs to hear that.
Yasmine: So, no Rip-like cowboys for you to shag?
Me: Afraid not. There's Ace's brother, but too many danger signs.
Yasmine and I had used our premonition about danger to protect ourselves while we'd lived in the home. There would be a teacher or another kid who'd give us those vibes, and we'd steer clear. Getting sexually abused in a home was exactly as common as people thought it was.
Yasmine: Stay away from him, then. Do you have money for the ticket back?
Ace had promised to buy my ticket home, but now I didn't feel right about taking money from him.
It made me feel filthy. I had my savings, but they were going toward my last year of school.
I needed nine thousand pounds for tuition, and I had that plus a thousand in my checking account.
I'd just work more shifts until I had to start school, I planned.
The bar manager where I worked enjoyed having me around because men stayed longer and bought more drinks, hoping to get with me, according to him.
I looked at the cost of tickets from Billings to London and gasped at the prices.
I set up alerts for price drops so I'd book as soon as I could get a good price or when my days were up here, which I suspected were sooner than later.
This holiday—which was supposed to be respite from working and studying twelve-fourteen hours a day with no weekends off—was turning into a nightmare.
I decided that I'd just not have any meals with the Ledgers. I didn't care that it would be rude. I'd go into the kitchen and get something to eat when I was hungry. Otherwise, I'd find a way to avoid them.
I felt trapped. I was very disciplined about my tuition money, but maybe I'd have to tap into it if that was the only way for me to get home. And then hope to God I could fill that hole quickly.
I had made a mistake by coming here, falling for Ace's sweet talk. I'd been clear with him that I wasn't interested in him sexually, and he'd seemed so accepting about it that I'd trusted him. I'd never ever taken a chance as I had coming here, and I'd never ever do it again.
I slept in the next day. And since I skipped breakfast, I was hungry but decided to not venture into the house where I could meet Rowan or Deb, or even Ace.
I just couldn't deal with any of the Ledgers right now.
It was later afternoon when I caved and went to the kitchen.
The cook took pity on me and made me a sandwich, which I ate with a glass of iced tea.
"You sure you don't want to have a proper lunch? I made a roast chicken with the best garlic mash you've ever eaten," the cook, a Scotswoman in her forties with a gruff voice and gentle demeanor, asked.
"I am sure. Thank you so much for this. I don't feel well, so I'll just keep to myself for a bit."
The cook nodded gravely. "Whatever you say, lassie."
I had to get out of here, I thought as I walked out of the house and took a walk. It was noon, the sun was at its zenith, and it was hot as hell, which meant that the Ledger family would be ensconced in the air-conditioned house.
I put on my straw hat and sunglasses that I'd bought at Zara, and in a pair of khaki shorts overalls over a tank top, and took off with my phone.
I got a text from Ace, asking where I was and that he'd knocked on my door. I told him I wasn't feeling well, and I'd see him later. He didn't prod.
Ace had been such a disappointment. I'd not expected much, but I'd expected respect. I was stupid to have trusted him.
Next time, when someone suggests something that's too good to be true, Isha, remember this and know it probably is too good to be true.
"Miss," someone called out to me, and I turned.
A man came up to me on a slow jog. "Clay Harrow, ma'am. I'm the Ledger Ranch foreman."
He held out his hand, and I shook it. "I'm Isha?—"
"I know who you are. Rowan wanted to make sure you didn't wander off too far in this heat."
"Ah…I was just going for a stroll. I wasn't planning on going too far."
Clay looked like Rip from Yellowstone, and I felt gauche because of it. He was big and burly, and smelled of hay and earth. He had a face that was kind and weathered. I had this overwhelming urge to trust him, but I held back. After Ace, it was going to be a long while before I trusted someone.
"How about a beer, Isha?"
I nodded.
"Come to the bunkhouse."
I giggled.
"What?"
"I'm a big fan of Yellowstone."
He sighed. "Lots of people come by thinking it'll be like that. It's not quite so lawless around here."
"So, you're not shooting your enemies?"
He laughed. "Hell no, ma'am. We actually have the law here."
The bunkhouse was exactly as I'd imagined it to be, but bigger. It was a simple, sturdy structure that radiated with the camaraderie and rough charm of those who called it home.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of wood and leather, and laughter filled the space as Clay introduced me to a few of the hands. They welcomed me with a friendliness that was disarming.
We sat at the kitchen table, the room lit by dim overhead lights, and drank beer.
"So, you're from London, is that right?" Eddie, one of the hands, wondered.
He was in his fifties and had a voice that sounded like he'd been drinking a lot of whiskey, and smoking many, many cigarettes.
"I am."
"What's it like?" Huey, who looked to be around my age, asked.
"It's a big city," I shrugged. "Ah…a lot of like New York or Chicago."
"Never been," Huey said. "Never been anywhere but here."
"It's my first time away from the UK," I admitted.
"You talk real pretty," Eddie grinned. "We were watching The Crown on Netflix, and you talk like them."
I laughed both at the idea that I sounded like the British royal family and that this rough-and-tumble cowboy watched The Crown.
"What's it like to work and live on a ranch?" I asked.
They were kind to me, and after what had happened the night before, it was a balm to my wounded ego. Soon, I was laughing hard along with them as they shared ranching war stories.
"Remember when Eddie thought he could shortcut through the north pasture in the dead of night without a flashlight?" Clay started a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Ended up waist-deep in a mud hole, claiming he'd found a new hot spring for the ranch."
There were many such stories.
"This feels like a modern operation," I said, "at least from what I've seen."
"Well, you can't get too modern," Eddie claimed. "Remember the time Sarah modernized the cattle count by using a drone. Scared the herd halfway to the next county. Took us two days to bring 'em all back."
Their stories, a mix of mishaps and the peculiar logic that seemed to govern life on the ranch, painted a picture of a community where every day was an adventure, bound by the land and shared experiences.
Clay leaned to pick up my empty beer bottle when I heard him grunt.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Blackie kicked him but good when he was breaking her in," Eddie told me.
"I'm assuming Blackie is a horse?"
Clay laughed. "Yeah. Got a rotator cuff injury. It's fine most of the time, but…I don't know. I'm too scared to take them painkillers 'cause I had some trouble with drugs when I was a kid."