Chapter 9
CASSIE
I hear the tabby before I open the door.
He's at the bowl when I pull it open, positioned with the patience of someone who has never once considered the possibility of being ignored.
I pull on my boots, get the coffee going, and come back for the food bag while the pot finishes.
The morning is still gray at the edges when I come back out with both.
He eats without looking up.
I sit in the rocker next to him with my coffee and watch him. The tree line is going pale where the sun is pushing up behind it. The barrel horses are moving in the corrals nearby. Birds are singing in the trees around the cabin. The clinic starts in two hours, and the ranch is awake without me.
I've been here almost three weeks, and I already know that.
I'm watching the tabby work through his bowl when I hear the soft sound from under the porch. Then the calico comes out.
She goes straight to the bowl and eats beside him without looking up.
She's thinner than she was before the kittens, but she's still eating well. I put my hand on her back, and she leans into it and keeps eating.
The tabby doesn't acknowledge either of us.
I look out over the property. Both cats are eating beside me. The morning is quiet enough that I can hear the tree line moving. I don't think about anything for a minute. I sit there.
"I don't know what Brynn called you," I say to them. "But you need names."
"Duke," I say to the tabby. He doesn't react. I watch him eat. He has the energy of someone who has never paid for anything in his life. "Rider." Nothing. I think about it. "Rent. Yeah, Rent feels right for you."
He keeps eating. That's about as much confirmation as I'm going to get from him.
I look at the calico. They came with the cabin, same as the food on the shelf, same as the worn spot on the porch step, same as everything else left behind when Brynn moved on.
"Clara," I say. She flicks an ear. "No." I watch her for a minute. She eats with her head down and her body angled toward the gap under the porch, half here and half already back with her kittens. "Mae."
She doesn't look up. That feels right.
They don't know their names yet. Rent has already decided he doesn't need to.
I finish my coffee while both bowls empty out. Mae goes back under the porch. Rent disappears into the yard like he has somewhere to be.
I head toward the dining hall with the morning opening up around me.
***
The dining hall is full.
Barrel clinic mornings run different than horsemanship. Louder. Faster. The clients come in already talking about their runs from yesterday, already picking apart what they're fixing today. Breakfast feels less like a meal and more like a pre-session meeting nobody officially called.
I grab a plate from the stack on the counter and get in line. Darla's behind the griddle, loading it before I've said a word. Eggs, fried potatoes, and two links of sausage. She slides it back across the counter.
"Enjoy, honey," she says.
I find a small table by the window. Londyn comes around with the coffee pot and stops beside me.
"You want some?" she asks.
"Oh yes," I say. "Thanks."
She fills my mug and sets the pot down for a second. "How are you liking it here? I feel like I haven't seen you since your first day."
"I love it," I say. "It moves fast around here."
"It really does." She picks the pot back up. "Holler if you need anything."
She moves on to the next table, easy with everyone she stops at, remembering who needs coffee and who needs juice without asking. She's got that kind of quiet attentiveness that makes a place run smoothly.
Mandy comes through from the back with a basket of biscuits and sets it in the center of my table. She drops into the chair across from me with her coffee and the expression of someone who's been awake since before it was reasonable.
"Sutton tried to make his own breakfast this morning," she says.
"How bad was it?" I ask.
"He cracked three eggs directly onto the griddle before Darla got to him.
" Mandy wraps both hands around her mug.
"She looked at him, looked at the eggs, and said, 'Well, since you started that many, you're going to eat them.
' Cooked them up, handed him a plate, pointed at a table, and he sat down and ate without arguing. "
"That's what got him," I say. "If she'd been annoyed, he could've worked with that."
"Exactly." Mandy shakes her head. "Darla's been doing this longer than he's been alive."
I'm smiling, and I let it stay. "Where is he now?"
"Outside with Bingo. Either playing or teaching that puppy something inadvisable. Could go either way."
Across the room, Del looks up from her table and raises her voice. "Darla, any chance of more gravy over here?"
"It's already coming," Darla calls back.
Darla comes around from behind the griddle with the bowl and sets it on Del's table. Del grins. "I'm coming back next year just for the gravy."
Darla looks at her. "Gravy will be here whether you do or not."
The room laughs.
The noise picks up around us, three days in, nerves burned off, everybody looser than they were Monday. Lynette is laughing at something Shelby said at the table beside them. Londyn moves through it all with the juice and coffee, stopping at each table.
Sawyer comes through the side door with her coffee already in hand and takes in the room before she's fully inside. She crosses to my table, pulls out a chair, and sits like she's got all the time in the world.
"How's Fever looking to you?" she asks.
"Reactive," I say. "She's been picking up everything Kira carries in with her all week. The mare's not the problem."
Sawyer nods. "I'm putting them early today. Before Kira has too much time to think about it."
"That should help her," I say.
She takes a sip of her coffee, and her eyes move across the room. She stops on Londyn, moving between tables with the juice pitcher.
"She's good at this," Sawyer says.
"She moves through a room like she's been doing it her whole life," I say.
Sawyer looks back at me. "You do too. You know that?" She sets her mug down. "I watched you call Fever from across the arena yesterday before Kira even asked the question. You were right. You didn't make a thing of it."
I pick up my mug. It lands too well, and I don't know what to do with it yet.
"You came here at thirteen with more miles on you than most adults who walk through that gate," Sawyer says.
"You listened, you picked things up fast, and you never once acted like you knew it all, even when you probably did.
But you were still figuring out where you fit.
" She looks at me. "You're not figuring that out anymore.
You know exactly where you stand, and it shows every time you step out there. "
"I'm just doing the job," I say.
"You're doing it like you belong here." She stands and does one more read of the room. "Because you do," she says, and heads toward the counter to talk to Darla.
I sit with that.
The door bangs open, and Sutton comes in with Bingo on his heels, both of them with the look of having been running hard. He spots me and comes straight over and drops into the chair Sawyer just left.
"What are you eating?" he asks.
"Eggs and potatoes."
He eyes my plate. "Can I have a sausage?"
"If you want one, go ask Darla."
He considers this like it's a real negotiation, then pushes back from the chair and heads for the counter. Bingo follows him. He comes back two minutes later with a full plate, drops into the seat, and starts eating.
We sit there for a minute. He's working through his eggs. Bingo's given up on the sausage and laid down under the table.
"Oh, the calico had kittens," I say.
He goes completely still. "What?"
"Under my porch. Four of them."
"When?"
"A few days ago, I think."
He stares at me like I've been holding out on him, which I guess I have. "Can I see them?"
"Maybe later. Mae's still protective."
"Mae?"
"That's her name."
He thinks about this. "What's the other one's name?"
"Rent."
He makes a face. "Those are weird names."
"You can name the kittens," I say.
His whole face lights up. He holds up one hand and starts counting on his fingers. "Tornado. Biscuit. Lightning. And Steve."
I pick up my coffee. "Steve."
"Steve is a good name."
"For a kitten."
"For anybody," he says, completely serious.
"Those are weird names," I say.
He grins. "You said I could name them."
He shovels the last of his eggs into his mouth and pushes back from the chair. "Can I see them now?"
"After lunch," I say.
He looks like he wants to argue, decides against it, and grabs a biscuit from the basket on his way out the door. Bingo trots after him, and the door bangs shut behind them.
***
The morning session runs long.
She puts Kira and Fever in early, and it helps. Kira's shoulders come down by the second barrel, and Fever feels it. The mare's whole body changes when the pressure above her drops. They don't post a great time. They post a real one, which is better.
Rhea stands by the gate while Sawyer and I take the rail. Sawyer calls what she sees. I listen and learn the barrel clinic language the same way I've learned everything else at this ranch, by paying attention.
Shelby goes next. She and Rocket hit the first barrel tight and clean, rate it perfectly, and after the third, they turn for home like they've run this pattern ten thousand times.
They probably have. The group at the rail falls silent, watching her, because that's what happens when someone runs like that. You stop talking, and you watch.
Del goes after Shelby, her mare tight on the first barrel, but finds her stride after that. Brooke follows, her horse listening to her like they've been running patterns together for years. They probably have.
Lynette follows. Her mare rates the first barrel like she has all the time in the world and then opens up after the third barrel. Lynette stays out of her way and lets her run. Her time is within a breath of Shelby's, and she makes it look like thinking instead of speed.