Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
DARBY
“These veggies are growing so well,” I say to Sylvester, who’s currently rolling around in the dirt like it’s his damn job.
The orange cat never fails to make me laugh with his silly antics, and there’s never a time that I’m in the garden without him.
I still don’t see much of Tom, but her babies are getting big and mischievous, and I wonder if I can keep that last kitten that hasn’t found a home yet?
He’s the smallest, all black, and he has the prettiest green eyes.
He could curl up with me while I read and hang out while I make my salves and such in the cabin, which I need to do soon because I just ran out of my scar salve.
Maybe this little kitten is my familiar, since I tend to lean toward the witchy side of things.
And then it occurs to me that I don’t have a home to take him to.
Not really. Tucker is lending his ranch to me while I continue with my internship, and when the year is over, well, I don’t know what will happen.
I definitely don’t want to leave, but Tucker hasn’t invited me to stay, so I shouldn’t assume that this is my home for the long term.
Therefore, it probably wouldn’t be the most responsible thing to keep a kitten.
I sit back on my haunches and rub the back of my hand over my forehead. It’s been two weeks since little Belle was born, and we’ve rolled right into early summer, with warmer days and plenty of sunlight. Harper’s recovering well, and she and the baby are as healthy as can be.
Xander had surgery on his knee last week and is undergoing therapy in Denver, working with the team’s doctors to recover as quickly as possible. Whenever I’ve heard Tucker talk to him on the phone, he sounds damn determined to get back on the ice.
I’m pulling weeds in the potato bed when something slithers next to me, making me scream and jump back, my heart beating a million beats a minute.
“Oh my God!”
I blow out a breath and chuckle when I realize that it’s just a little garden snake. They’re harmless. In fact, there are no snakes in this part of Montana that can hurt me, but still. I don’t like being surprised by anything that slithers.
“What’s wrong?” Tucker’s running my way from the barn, his face pulled tight in a scowl.
“I’m fine.” I stand and stretch my legs. I’ve been pulling weeds for a while. “Sorry about that, false alarm. There was a little snake in the garden, and it startled me.”
“Fuck, baby, my heart can’t take that. I thought the bear was back.” He pats his chest and then smiles down at Sylvester, who’s on his back, belly exposed, sleeping. “He’s still helping?”
“Oh, for sure. He’s convinced this is his job. This isn’t my garden without Sylvester in it.”
I catch myself and bite my lip, frowning down at the ground.
“What’s wrong?” Tucker asks.
“I mean that it’s your garden, I’m just—”
“It’s yours, Duchess. As you know, I have no intention of planting anything, or I would have had something like this a long time ago. I’m headed back to the barn, but do you need anything?”
“No thanks. I’m going to make salves in the cabin later, if that’s okay?”
“You can make them in the house.”
“I know, but this way it keeps everything separate. I like the cabin.”
His eyes narrow just a bit, and I think he might march through the gate and kiss the hell out of me—okay, I hope he might—but then he nods and pushes his hand through his hair.
“The cabin’s yours to do with what you want, as long as you sleep with me, I don’t mind.”
I smile softly at him. Hell yes, I’m sleeping with him. There’s nowhere else I want to be.
“I might get called out, but I’ll text you if I do. By the way, I hope you like green beans because we’re about to have a lot of them.”
“If you grow it, I’ll eat it.” He winks at me and then strides off, and there’s no way in hell that I’m peeling my eyes away from his fine ass. The man fills out jeans perfectly. Thick thighs, hard ass, tapered back.
Fuck, my man is hot.
When he rounds the corner out of sight, I take a breath and move to start pulling the weeds in the tomato box, but my phone rings.
“Hi, Dr. Fisher.”
“Hi, Darby. I just got a call about a horse with an injured eye that we need to go see. I’m finishing up at another ranch right now, but I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”
“No problem.” I stand and gather my supplies into my gardening bucket, place them inside the greenhouse, and set off for the house to wash up and change my clothes. “Just shoot me the address, and I can head that way.”
“It’s actually the Kincaid ranch, where we had the breech foal last month.”
“Got it. I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.”
“Thanks, Darby.”
He ends the call, and I shoot Tucker a text.
Me: Headed to the Kincaid ranch on a horse call. xo
Once I’ve washed my hands and changed into jeans and a T-shirt, I drive over to the Kincaid ranch.
I hope I get to see how the foal is doing with her nurse mare.
I’ve wondered how they’re getting on. Dr. Fisher has seen them and assures me that all is well, but I haven’t been back since that horrible night.
That was the night of the storm, when Tucker came to rescue me from one hell of a panic attack.
Luckily, we haven’t had many storms this spring.
I wave at Mr. Kincaid after I park by the barn. He’s near the house, talking with his wife, but gestures for me to go on into the barn.
“I’ll be right there,” he yells out to me, and I reply with a nod, grab my bag from the back of the car, and walk into the barn.
I can hear someone out in the paddock, likely working with another horse, as this is a pretty big ranch.
Most of the stalls are empty right now, except for one stall with a pretty mare inside, and when she turns her head to me, I can see that her eye is definitely injured.
Whether she hit it on something like a branch, or if it’s simply an ulcer on the eye, it definitely needs to be taken care of.
“Don’t worry, pretty girl.” I rub my hand down her face, and she leans into me with a little snuff. “We’ll get you fixed up.”
The voices outside get a little louder, and then I hear footsteps as someone walks into the barn.
“You can’t be fucking serious.”
With a frown, I turn and see Peter, the asshole farrier, smirking as he walks toward me.
“Just leave me alone, please.”
“I didn’t do anything,” he says, holding his hands out at his side, as if he’s the most innocent man in the world. “But you got me fired from my job, you stupid bitch.”
“Good. Because you’re a shitty farrier. Ellie’s hoof took almost three weeks to heal.”
“You distracted me.”
“Right, it’s always a woman’s fault, isn’t it.” I shake my head and feel the hair stand on the back of my neck when he moves to take a step toward me, and then we hear another car door slam outside, and Peter smirks.
“I like you being afraid of me,” he says so only I can hear him, and I want to punch the smirk off his face. “It’s fucking delicious watching the way those pretty blue eyes widen when you’re scared.”
“You can go fuck yourself,” I reply, proud that my voice doesn’t shake at all. “I’m not scared of you, asshole.”
Peter just laughs and goes on about his way, and I’m relieved that he doesn’t try to touch me again. Does he work here? I wonder if Mr. Kincaid knows what a complete waste of space that guy is.
Shaking my head, I turn back to the horse, and then I hear the noise coming from the paddock.
Crack!
Crack!
Oh God.
The breath leaves my lungs, my mouth goes bone dry, and I’m flung back in time when a monster ruled my life and my back was on fire.
Crack!
Someone’s hurting a horse with that whip.
I run out the barn doors and see a man training a young horse, the whip in his hand. He cracks it over and over, getting so close to the horse’s haunches, and I just know he’s going to break the skin any second.
No no no no no!
“Hey!” My voice is thready and thin, probably because I still haven’t been able to drag in any air. “Stop it.”
I want to scream at the man to stop cracking that whip.
You’re not quite bloody enough, little girl. You’re so fat, you have so much skin to break. You better not lose any weight and ruin all of my fun, or I’ll do this to your sisters until I tear the muscle from their bones.
Crack!
I can feel the tears tracking down my face as I run over to protect the horse, getting between the two, and then I feel the whip tear at the flesh of my shoulder and arm, making me stumble and fall into a fence post, hitting the side of my face and making me see stars.
Fuck you bleed so pretty for me.
“Darby!”
“Don’t hurt the horse. Don’t you dare!”
I just keep saying that over and over, but I can’t tell if I’m yelling it or if it’s a whisper because I can’t catch my breath, and my shoulder and arm sing in white-hot pain.
“Fuck, get some water.” I think that’s Dr. Fisher’s voice. “Darby, I need you to take a breath for me. You have to breathe.”
I pull in a breath, and then I look around and find Dr. Fisher frowning down at me, the trainer with the whip is pale as a ghost, his lips are moving, but I can’t make out what he’s saying over the rushing in my ears, and fucking Peter is standing by the barn doors, smiling as wide as he can.
I fucking hate that guy.
He reminds me too much of my father.
“Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Can I go?” It’s a whisper because that’s really all I’m capable of right now. The past is too close, I hurt, and I can’t be here.
“I’ll drive you home—”
“No.” I shake my head, interrupting my boss. “I just need to go.”
“Darby, I think you should sit for a second.”
I stumble to my feet and manage to walk into the barn on my own.
I don’t even bother to scoop up my medical bag as I walk through to the other side where my car is, and without waiting to see if Dr. Fisher approves or not, I get in the driver’s seat, start the engine, and pull out of the driveway, trying to ignore the way my shoulder is singing with pain.
This ranch is bad luck for me.