Chapter 1
CADE
“Nelli,” I groan, “I need you to stop moving.” I kneel beside our oldest Holstein, trying to calm her irritation so I can relieve the pressure in her udders.
In the eighteen months I’ve been here, she’s never given me any issues, but we’ve noticed over the last week or so that she hasn’t been producing anything.
Bruises appear, and her temper has become increasingly erratic as the days pass.
This morning, my uncle attempted to handle her, but she kicked him, only mere inches from his sternum.
“Nell,” I try to coax, rubbing her hide gently.
“I know this hurts, but we’re almost done, and then I won’t have to touch you again.
Okay?” I don’t know if she understands me; I don’t know if any of them do when I talk to them.
But her big black eyes watch me as I go to squeeze her again, and she doesn’t move.
She trusts me not to hurt her, and I won’t let her down.
My uncle storms into the barn as soon as I finish, staring from the entryway as I let her roam out the back.
“How did it go?” he asks, staring down into her collection pail.
The liquid is pink, a sign of blood, but thankfully not much.
I go on to explain how this morning went.
“I think she’ll be fine. We just have to monitor her for infections. ”
“Right. Right,” he mumbles, studying his booted toes on the ground. “I need you to drive down to Holly’s. I have a shipment ready for me.”
“Alright,” I respond, wiping Nelli’s residue on my jeans.
“Pick up some supplements and additives, too.” He hands me the keys to his pickup and walks off to tend to the other animals. None of my belongings are inside, so I head straight to the car, swiping my wallet off my hay bale nightstand.
The interior of his truck is covered in dirt, so I don’t feel any remorse for adding to it.
Though I probably should have dusted it off so the air couldn’t blow it up my nose.
I enjoy that breeze regardless, letting my hand run through the current.
The blowing wind is as close to freedom as I’ve felt in a long time.
As I drive on the solo lane, I imagine it taking me places, blowing me into my fantasies.
Throughout my time here, I’ve considered taking what I have and going, disappearing so my family couldn’t find me.
First, it was my father who attempted to beat me out of my goal of becoming a professional boxer.
When he wasn’t enough, he sent me here, knowing I’d fear my uncle and his violent beatings more.
I hate to admit that he was right.
My uncle is the meanest sonofabitch I’ve met. The mere mention of my wanting to brawl sends his fists and boots flying. “You want to fight so badly? Come on, then.” The few times I tried left me in bloody heaps on the floor. It would be one thing if he fought fair, but my uncle is anything but.
I could just leave. I’ve considered it so many times, but my uncle pays me shit, and I’m not dumb enough to run off with nothing in my pockets.
It’s not like I have a diploma to fall back on.
I got kicked out of school for fighting.
It’s not like I had the grades to graduate anyway.
I was never good at school, but my hands… I could do anything with those.
Holly’s Feed and Supply is more packed than usual, the parking lot full of trucks and trailers of all sorts. I find a spot in the back and wait in line, avoiding any kind of conversation until I’m at the front. I step up to the counter with a polite grin, greeting Holly’s daughter.
“Hey, Clara.”
“Hey, Cade,” she smiles brightly and cheerfully, leaning her elbows over the scratched wood. “What do you need today?”
“Just picking up an order for Harris, Dalton.”
“I know your uncle’s name, Cade.” She laughs, walking around the edge of the counter to lead me to the back, where the shipments wait. A foot or so behind, I follow her outside to a stack with HARRIS printed across the side.
“I’ll pull the truck around. You think you could get me some supplements for our Holstein? She hasn’t been producing so well. There’s some blood.”
“Yeah. You pull your truck around. I’ll get someone to help you out, and then you can meet me inside.
I’ll have you rung up.” Her hair bounces as she walks off, coils slipping out of the thick braids at her back.
I watch them swing along her spine until she enters the building.
Then, ignoring the slight pulse in my cock, I bring the car around.
There are workers I could ask to help me load up, but I figure I could get it done faster on my own.
Pushing my dirty sleeves up to my elbows, I start with the biggest, lifting the hay bales off the pallets until they perfectly line the back of the bed.
Sweat beads on my temples and leaves a trail of wetness down my face as I finish.
Sticky and matted in dust, I opt to wipe myself off with the bottom of my shirt, flexing a little in case Clara is watching.
Straight-faced as I walk back inside, Clara asks, “You did that all on your own?” She was watching.
Nonchalantly, I respond. “Yeah. Why?”
“You’re strong.” I’m about to thank her when she leans over the counter, eyes lit up, voice barely a whisper. “You ever put it to use?”
Uh. “I mean—”
“I don’t mean lifting boxes.”
“Then what do you mean?”
Remembering that she’s leaning over the counter, Clara pushes herself back, spine straight once again.
I watch as she glances around the store, eyes wandering all over for listening ears.
Clara tallies up my charge while she does it, silently taking my cash and handing me the receipt.
Just when I think the strange interaction is over, Clara angles close again, a smile touching her pink lips.
“Meet me here at one.”
“In the morning?” I ask, more confused than a moment ago.
Grin a little larger, she hisses, “Yes!” before calling for the next in line. I back away, but confusion swirls through my thoughts. She wants to see me tonight. The excitement is enough to shut me up.
It takes an eternity for the clock to hit midnight, but once twelve flashes on the screen, I shoot out of my makeshift bed and creep outside. Careful to avoid my uncle’s motion lights, I skirt around the side of the barn, preferring to slink through the back fields than risk biking out front.
Once I’m out of the clearing and on the thin stretch of road, I swing my leg over the seat and take off toward Holly’s. In the truck, it takes somewhere close to thirty minutes to reach the supply store. Pedaling as fast as my legs will let me, I hope to meet Clara in the same amount of time.
Unfortunately, I’m a dumbass and forgot to add air to the tires, so pedaling is more difficult than it should be.
Determination and pride get me through the hurdle, and I roll to a stop in front of the store.
Outside, huddled beside a running car, Clara and another girl wait, laughing over a lit joint.
“Cade!” Clara shouts, quickly breaking away from her friend to wave me over.
She greets me with a fast hug and immediately introduces me to her friend, Kassidy.
“What happened to the truck? Your uncle wouldn’t let you take it?
” Clara asks, gesturing toward the bike in my limp hold.
There’s no way to explain to her that my uncle would beat my ass for asking, so I say no and hope she never brings it up to him.
After a moment of awkward, uncomfortable nodding, Clara merrily shouts, “Let’s go!
” and pulls her friend into the car. Cold air blows from between my lips as I settle inside the warm vehicle.
Immediately, the chill that was brought on by the nighttime frost melted beneath my flesh.
I sit comfortably in the back, listening to the girls go on about who’s there and who’s waiting.
“So what are we doing?” I ask. “And where exactly are we going?” Kassidy turns, her platinum-dyed hair draping over the center console to gaze at me in the dark.
“Every Friday, a bunch of us around town get together and hang out.”
“Oh, past Friedrich’s?” There’s an old bait shop, maybe an hour out of town—a little barn-looking building that’s more of a shack in the middle of nowhere.
“You know it?”
“Not really,” I admit. I’ve heard some chatter here and there, whispers of fighting in the dark. I was curious, but it wasn’t worth my uncle’s wrath. Now, though—“So it’s a party?”
“Sort of,” Clara answers, her eyes gleaming in the rearview mirror. There’s a look about her that screams mischief, and I haven’t had fun in ages. A party is exactly what I need, no matter the kind.
It takes roughly around forty-five minutes to reach the barn in the empty field, but when we do, it’s alive with laughter, cheering, and screams to get my blood flowing.
“Come on!” Clara, already holding onto Kassidy, takes my hand and yanks me from the car.
Together, the three of us rush into the lamp-lit barn.
I want to take a second to look around and explore the darker corners of the rustic space, but Clara has other ideas.
I didn’t realize she was so pushy until she began shoving people out of her way, fighting for our place in front of a group.
“What’s going on?” I ask whoever is listening, and then we come to a stop.
My pulse races and slows as I stand before a makeshift ring.
Inside, two bloody men not much older than me circle each other.
Their hands are raised, faces bloody and swollen—and gleaming.
Their rabid smiles send a thrill down my spine, and when the smaller one, a man I recognize as Jim Lawson, the town’s friendly mailman, charges headfirst, blood in his teeth, I feel at home.
After another round and a few minutes pass, Jim goes down with a roar—dark, gooey splatter marring the makeshift sparring floor. “So!” Clara shouts. “What do you think?!”
“That’s our fucking mailman!”