Chapter 45
FORTY-FIVE
CALDER
My mood doesn’t fit the day. It’s early, so the temperature is on the cool side.
We’ll turn out the cattle in their summer home before it gets too hot.
They’ll have a few nice stock ponds and fresh lush grass.
Since there aren’t a lot of calf-cow pairs compared to pasture space, Carlos won’t have to move them—maybe ever again.
Thin clouds punctuate the sky, but the sun bores through them. I tip the brim of my cowboy hat down. The leather on the saddles creaks, and the swish of grasses around the horses’ legs fills the air, along with the mooing of cows.
Did Meredith get any sleep last night? Did she wake up looking for me like I did when I opened my eyes this morning?
I should’ve taken the couch, but like an optimistic fool, I waited at the table until I was sure she wasn’t returning home, then I tossed and turned in her wildflower scent in her bed. Alone.
“Remember how much of this road we used to take up?” Bowen’s walk down memory lane pulls me into the present. He sways on Willie, a paint Sawyer got through work when he proved too expensive for the old owners to keep. With a little TLC and better feed, he’s thriving at Crossroads.
Turkey vultures fly around us. The big black birds occasionally perch in the trees and on fence posts to watch for anything we stir up or leave behind.
Landry’s riding like he’s being filmed in the other ditch.
The brim of his hat shades his eyes, his back is straight, and his gaze sweeps the road ahead.
He’s stiffer in the saddle than usual, and I doubt it’s from sitting astride an unfamiliar horse.
He was always the wild one who’d stand in the saddle or haul his horse to some friend’s ranch rodeo.
He either hates today or hates how much he’s enjoying it.
“They used to spread out for at least twice the distance,” I reply, hating that I do give a fuck about how small the herd is compared to the last time we did this.
Landry shakes his head. We’re far enough behind the cattle that he must’ve caught most of what we were saying. “Why not just rent out the pastures?”
Dad would’ve had to let Carlos go, and his pride wouldn’t have allowed it. Carlos could’ve told him it was fine. He’s supposed to be retired anyway. But Dad wouldn’t have done it.
“The Sterlings would lease them,” Bowen says, “and none of us want that.”
For three idiots who want to walk away from the ranch, we shouldn’t care who rents it out as long as their money’s green.
“Gil would spread lies until he’s the only one willing to pay,” Bowen adds.
There’s that too. “Fucking Sterlings.” Flaunting their oil money and trying to ruin every good thing the Crosses have worked hard for. “Duncan offered Meredith a job.”
“Is that why you’re in a shit mood this morning?
” Landry squints in the direction of Sterling land.
It’s beyond the pastures, and Carlos planted the field with corn a month ago.
The Sterling River winds its way around the back of the land.
The same river beneath the bridge where Dad and Holly crashed.
“He’s in a shit mood because Meredith didn’t come home last night,” Bowen says.
I grind my teeth together. There goes my hope that Bowen didn’t notice Meredith was gone all night, or our distance this morning. She and Sawyer were already saddling their horses when Bowen and I got out there. Landry drove up not long after.
“Did the wort between you two flare too hot?” Landry asks wryly.
I glare at him. Monster Jam senses my disgruntlement and tosses his head. I suck in a deep breath full of warm cow smell and sunshine and let it out slowly. “She’s not moving to Denver with me.”
The guys go quiet. Good. Yet the restlessness returns, as if talking about my shit made it easier to deal with. Since when? We tuck our heads down and go to work. We don’t dwell, and we keep going.
But this is different. Meredith makes it different.
Bowen furrows his brow. “She’s going to work for Duncan then?”
Fire roars through my stomach lining. “I don’t know.”
“Eh, maybe it’s for the best.” Bowen loosely holds his reins. “Leaving’s easier when no one wants you to stay.”
My heart seizes. But she did, and I can’t. Why not again?
Right—my job. People counting on me. I have to make others rich. I rub an ache at my temple. Bowen’s the one who gets headaches, not me.
A calf gallops onto the road, veers to the left, sees the horses, and then sprints straight down the road. I nudge Monster Jam up the ditch and head him off. The black calf twirls around, spots his mama, and trots to catch up. Monster Jam chuffs, and I guide him back to walk next to Willie.
Bowen juts his chin toward me. “I think you’ve got yourself a horse there.”
“He belongs to Crossroads.”
“Sawyer said she doesn’t ride him,” Bowen says. “Can’t risk getting hurt.”
I wouldn’t mind a good kick to the groin to get my mind off the hurt simmering in Meredith’s eyes before I walked out of the brewery. “I live on the edge.”
Landry snorts. “You don’t even live on the edge of Denver. You’re downtown with all the other rich assholes.”
“I don’t know if my neighbors are assholes or not.” I don’t talk to anyone in my building, and I prefer it that way.
“My neighbor brings me cookies.” Bowen runs his teeth along his bottom lip.
“One time, she messed up the salt measurements. Another time, she gave me leftovers that had mold. Then I found her passed out in the middle of her yard, right in the rocks. When I return, her daughter will probably have moved her out and into a care center.”
“Jesus.” This is the most Bowen’s talked about his personal life.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “Sucks. The rest of the street is full of families. I should’ve stayed in a glass tower like you.”
We’re surrounded by grass and the buzz of crickets.
A glass tower sounds absurd right now, and the last place I want to be.
I sway with Monster Jam. He’s a strong horse.
Tall. If he were ridden more, he’d get comfortable with his rider and stress less when other horses aren’t around.
I lean forward and brush a hand down his warm withers.
A horse with abandonment issues shouldn’t get attached to me.
I catch a glimpse of Meredith. She’s beyond the gate with Styx.
Meredith, Sawyer, and Carlos form a line from one ditch to the other side to ensure the cattle head right into the open pasture.
The throng of animals between us can’t hide her from me when she’s on horseback.
Styx is excited about the number of cows coming right for her and shifts.
Meredith barely moves, and Styx calms down.
She’s facing me straight on, and her hat moves from side to side as she scans the cows.
She’s not looking at me, but I’m admiring the flare of her hips and the jut of her breasts, thanks to her posture.
The cattle start moving to the right. The older cows know the field and the sweet grass waiting for them, and all the others follow. Carlos leans on his saddle horn, looking like he’s slumping, but if that horse blows up, the animal would find there’s nothing slacking about Carlos.
Blue darts into the pasture after the last cows pass through the gate, driving them farther in so Carlos can dismount.
After tying off his reins on a fence post, Carlos closes and latches the gate.
He could’ve done it all from the saddle, but maybe parts of the job are getting harder for him.
Sawyer and her horse, Juneberry, fall even with my brothers.
Meredith rides to the end, as far from me as she can.
I want to ride beside her, but I swing around to line up with them.
Carlos doesn’t hop back on his horse. Instead, he digs out his phone.
“Look at that.” He jogs ahead of us several yards, huffing and puffing before climbing out of the ditch and into the middle of the road.
Moving his phone from left to right, he takes a panoramic shot.
“Never thought I’d see the day. Might have to frame this one and put it in the office. Who knows when it’ll happen again?”
I give my brothers a sidelong glance. Bowen and Landry concentrate on the spot between their horses’ ears, and I have to look away. I can’t see Meredith beyond them, but Styx’s ears twitch.
Carlos is still grinning and snapping pictures. “Esme’s going to love these.” He tucks his camera into his shirt pocket. “She asked if we’re grilling afterward like normal. Horseshoes?”
Bowen groans beside me, but his horse whinnies and smothers the sound.
We used to have a party after a cattle drive: cold beer, marbled steaks, and games. Mama would take the whole day off at the brewery.
“We’re having a party,” Sawyer announces. “I don’t know if these guys are coming.”
The way she says it is a taunt. I don’t have to look at my brothers to know they’re stiff in the saddle.
“I’ll be there,” Bowen growls, probably frustrated he can’t ignore the challenge in Sawyer’s voice.
“I hate to make you throw horseshoes alone, Uncle Carlos,” Landry says. “And I have to get my fill of steak before I return to the land of vegans.”
If Meredith will be there, I’m not missing my last day with her. She’s not talking to me, but I’ll soak up every glimpse I get.
“Then I have to go too,” I add, “if only to prove my brothers are still shit at Horseshoes.”