Chapter 22
Chapter twenty-two
Ranch Hand
Maverick
Most people hated work. Hated the monotony. The daily grind. And I knew it was corny as hell, but how did that old saying go…? If you did somethin’ you loved, you’d never work a day in your life—or something like that.
But it was true. At least for me.
From that first morning Uncle Bad woke me up at 4 AM, I’d loved it.
Every bit of it. Moving cattle, doctoring calves, working horses, hell, mending fences or even shoveling shit…
I loved it all. Every day—despite its certain routines—always had something different to offer.
Every day I woke up, I never knew exactly what the day would bring.
I’d always be grateful to Bad for that work ethic. Lord knew his son didn’t feel the same way.
Sweat dripped down my brow as the afternoon sun beat down on me. It was hot as hell, not even taking into account the humidity, but I’d long since stopped caring. We’d be done soon enough.
“That’s the last one,” Goodie shouted over the lowing of the cattle. I wiped at my face with the back of my sleeve and stepped away from the calf as it bolted upright and bounded off toward its mother.
Bad took off his hat and ran an arm across his face. “Alright, let’s pack up this shit and head on back.”
Goodie muttered something about needing a beer as he headed for the horses.
He hauled himself atop his dapple-grey gelding with a huff.
Bad and I followed. The wind felt good against my face as we walked across the pasture.
It was still warm, but cooler than when we were at a standstill, so I’d take it.
“So, that girl…”
Here we go. I’d been waiting for this conversation. Bad liked to say he minded his own business, but he was a sucker for drama, you’d never convince me otherwise. And with Cheyenne coming into my life like a whirlwind and changing everything, well, hell, I’d be interested too.
Bad’s gaze met mine for a moment. “She’s a pretty thing.”
Goodie snorted and cracked open a Coors from in his saddle bags. “Pretty’s a bit mild for that girl, Bad. She’s a cowboy killer if I ever saw one.”
My lips tugged up at that. She was a cowboy killer. I bet she’d love hearing that too. I could even see her wearing it on a shirt proudly.
Bad looked at me. “Cash told me she’s stayin’ with you. Is this a romantic thing or just ‘til she gets on her feet?”
I lifted a hand from my reins, waving it side to side.
It was a bit of both, honestly. I definitely liked her.
But I could tell the thought of settling down scared her.
She didn’t seem like that type really. She was wild, free, and I wasn’t stupid enough to try and tame her. I think it would only make her run.
But as long as she was here, for however long she wanted to stay, I’d have her. Have her in any way she wanted.
“Both?” Bad guessed.
I nodded.
“And what about Ashleigh?”
I stilled at the name. I hadn’t thought of her since Saturday evening, to be honest. But the memories came flooding back…as well as the hurt. I couldn’t believe I’d let down my guard again. Let her into my heart, only for her to just crush it beneath her feet at the first opportunity.
I hardened my resolve. I was done with her. Done with the second, third, fourth chances only to be left disappointed.
I glanced at Bad, holding his gaze as I shook my head. The ghost of a smile drew on Bad’s mouth. “Good. I want you to be prepared though for her to come back around. If she catches wind about you and Cheyenne, she’ll be back here in a heartbeat tryin’ to tear you two apart.”
I nodded once more.
“You know I ain’t the type to tell you boys what to do when it comes to relationships, but I feel compelled to tell you right now that you’d be an idiot if you let her ruin things with this one.”
I nodded.
I understood. I understood his fear. I knew everyone hated Ashleigh, and I didn’t use hate lightly.
“I like this girl,” Goodie said, coming up on my left. “She’s got charm and balls. Anyone willin’ to take on that bitch of a horse has got my vote.”
Bad chuckled, pulling a rolled cigarette out of his shirt pocket along with his lighter. “I gotta agree. I like her spirit. I think your aunt’ll like her too.”
Goodie scoffed. “Name a handful of people that woman likes, Bad. One handful.”
“She likes Charlie and Cason.” Bad lit his cigarette and blew out a cloud of smoke. I nodded at him, a silent request if I could have one.
Bad’s only response was to fish another cigarette out of his pocket before handing it to me along with the lighter.
“I don’t think I know a soul that doesn’t melt being around those two,” Goodie replied. “Sweet as pie, I tell you…the both of ‘em.”
Uncle Goodie and I didn’t always agree, but we could on that. Charlie and Cason were sweet as pie.
The two of them shifted on to talk about something else for a few moments, leaving me in silence as I smoked. I appreciated it though. This was my happy place—atop a horse, nothing but land around me, and relative silence…I couldn’t ask for anything better.
I preferred this to rodeoing, to be honest. Always had.
I didn’t eat, breathe, and love the sport like Ryder did.
Didn’t love the attention and notoriety like Cash.
I enjoyed it, and I was good at it, but ranching was my passion.
Not the rodeo. I’d only started because Cash asked me to be his header.
And we all knew there was almost nothing I’d say no to him about.
“So—” Bad’s voice cut through my thoughts. “This girl, she rides, obviously. She rodeo too?”
I nodded.
“What event—” Bad seemed to come to the conclusion on his own. He rolled his eyes, puffing out another plume of smoke. “Ah, hell, she’s a fuckin’ barrel racer, ain’t she? Damn it. I take it back. I ain’t lettin’ no barrel racer ruin my damn horse... fuckin’ hell, boy.”
My shoulders shook with silent laughter, a grin coming to my lips. Goodie laughed beside me. “Well, you did say Mav’s got a way with the wild ones.”
“Let’s fuckin’ hope.” Bad huffed, even though a smile drew on his lips.
Ifidgeted at my spot at the kitchen counter as I washed all the dishes. Aunt Violet bustled about, a flurry of motion as she got things ready for dinner. She’d been oddly quiet since I’d gotten back—a true feat for her, as she gave Cash a run for his money.
It meant she was thinking of what to say.
“Mav, honey…” Her voice held a tentative edge to it.
I glanced over my shoulder at her, soapy water running down my hands.
“So, your uncle says you have a new roommate?”
I nodded.
“You like her?”
Another nod.
“And she’s nice to you?” I knew what she meant but wasn’t saying. Was she like Ashleigh?
Did everyone hate her that much? Had I just been completely oblivious?
I knew everyone had their issues with her.
Cash hadn’t liked her from the moment he’d met her.
I’d always just thought it was because Cash could be territorial and he didn’t like that when Ashleigh was around, my focus wasn’t solely on him.
Bad and Aunt Violet were better about hiding their dislike, it wasn’t until the second time she’d broken up with me that they started expressing their thoughts.
Cheyenne was nothing like Ashleigh, that was for sure.
But would she and I even last though? And what even were we?
Saturday night I’d have thought just a hookup and been okay with that.
I’d still be okay with that if that’s all she’d wanted.
But then the fire happened, and now she was livin’ with me, and I wasn’t talking, and didn’t know what she wanted or what we were.
Maybe she didn’t even want a relationship. Maybe she planned on leaving the minute she got enough money to buy herself a new trailer. I didn’t know. I had so many questions that needed answers, and the only reason I didn’t have them was my own damn fault.
Frustration welled inside me. I wanted to talk. I really fucking did. But it was like the connection between my brain and my mouth had been severed. A trauma response from my PTSD.
I don’t even know exactly how I’d started talking back when this happened before.
All I remembered was watching Cash get his ass kicked for sticking up for me, and us running like hell to hide from Bodi Johnson and his little minions.
I’d been thinking about how Aunt Violet was going to kill us for starting trouble, and Cash had given me that famous grin, said something about what I’d done being so awesome, and I’d just called him a fuckin’ idiot.
Some of the frustration had dulled, I realized. But I still didn’t know why? Was it because I’d been so mystified that Cash would do something like that for me? Was it because for as dumb of a thing for him to do, I was eternally grateful for his undying support?
I didn’t know, and it drove me mad. I wanted to talk. To ask Cheyenne what she wanted. If this was just a situation of convenience or if she wanted to explore something more. She seemed like it last night, and this morning before getting sick…but, well, I just didn’t know.
I turned off the running water and dried off my hands before facing Aunt Violet fully. I gave her a firm nod, hoping she understood I didn’t think Ashleigh and Cheyenne were anything alike. She offered me a smile and returned my nod, saying, “Good. I’m lookin’ forward to meetin’ her.”
Bad strolled into the kitchen then, moseying around looking at everything Aunt Violet was working on.
“Nope. You just go find yourself somethin’ to do. You ain’t gettin anythin’ until dinner, so don’t even,” Aunt Violet admonished, snapping her tongs at Bad for good measure as the chicken sizzled in the frying pan.
He chuckled as he made his way to the fridge, opening it to grab himself a Coke. “Want one?” he called over his shoulder to me.
I waved him off.
“You ready for this weeken—”