by Ciara Shayee
“Get going, then. It’ll take a while for you to sort through that lot, anyway.”
Ryan rolled his grey-blue eyes with a wry grin and stood, gulping back his scalding hot coffee with barely a grimace. The familiarity of the gesture made Indie smile.
‘If it’s so hot, why don’t you drink it slower?’ she often wondered, but she’d never ask.
“Yes, Ma’am. I suppose we’ll be seeing you for lunch, then.”
Once assured that she, Grace, and Marley—a firm favourite with the men—would be joining them for lunch, Ryan smiled wide. He always seemed pleased when the girls joined him and his fellow ranch hands, be it for mealtimes or out in the barn. They occasionally ventured outdoors to join him if they’d been told to, and it always warmed Indie to see the ease in the interactions between the men.
So uninhibited.
So opposite to how she and Grace acted.
So not important, Indie reminded herself, collecting the last of the dirtied plates to begin the clean-up.
~ oOo ~
Later, Indie and Grace wrapped a large, fluffy blanket around their shoulders and sat near the fireplace up on the mezzanine level. Their eyes routinely fell upon the window to watch the snow falling on the other side of the glass. Marley had created a nest of blankets and cushions. She was content to nap near the older girls with the tip of her bunny’s ear between her rosebud lips. With every puff of breath, an escaped chocolate curl lifted before floating back to rest over her fire-warmed cheek.
Surrounded by six-feet high bookshelves made of the same aged wood as the walls, with the fire crackling and mugs of coffee warming their hands, Indie and Grace were the most relaxed they’d been all day. Lunchtime drew nearer, but with the food already prepared and on the tables downstairs, they had some time to take a break.
After lunch they’d be joining some of the men out in the barn for a couple of hours. It kept them going; knowing they wouldn’t be cooped up in the house for the entire day, even if it was bitterly cold out in the barn. To be truthful, it wasn’t all that warm inside, either.
One o’clock came and went. A fresh blanket of snow rested atop the already-thick covering, wind rattling the windows and sneaking through the gaps to make the flames in front of the girls dance a sinister routine. Neither of them had an appetite, so instead of joining the men below they sat together quietly, ignoring the noise from the floor underneath them and soaking up the comfort of each other’s presence instead.
Indie broke the silence first.
Setting her empty mug down on the floor, Grace reached up to run gloved fingers through her dark hair. Indie’s ever-watchful gaze caught the movement.
“D’you want me to braid it for you?” she whispered.
Grace barely hesitated before nodding. She turned slightly, so her hair would be easier for Indie to reach, and her baby-blue eyes slid shut as Indie deftly split and twined together sections of her hair in a neat French braid. The actions were soothing for both girls; it was something familiar.
The first time Indie braided Grace’s hair, they’d been six. They’d also been happy, and safe.
Grace couldn’t return the favour because she couldn’t get her hands to work that way and she got muddled with the different sections of hair, but she always enjoyed repaying Indie with other things. An extra bun here or there when they had the ingredients for baking, or an extra sandwich if they had enough that it wouldn’t be noticed.
“Do you want to muck out or groom today?” Indie asked softly.
Grace rolled her eyes. “You always ask and I always say the same. You groom; I know you prefer it.”
“But then you have to muck out again. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
They both knew the only thing Indie liked about the ranch was the quality time with the horses, however fleeting or limited that time may be.
What Indie didn’t know was that Grace was all-too-aware of the sacrifices she made for her—or most of them, anyway—and took every opportunity possible to make Indie’s life easier in return. She saw the way Indie constantly watched out for her, even while trying to do the same for Marley. She saw the way Indie took any punishments coming their way without complaint.
If Grace could give Indie this one thing, grooming the horses, she’d do it every day without a second thought.
“I swear I don’t mind,” she promised, leaning back against Indie’s bent knees as she tied the band from her wrist around the end of her finished braid.
The slam of the front door bouncing in its hinges had the same effect on the girls as a bucket of icy water being thrown over them. Marley flew up from her nest, her eyes wide and already filling with tears as she scampered across the floor into Indie’s lap.
Only one person would be using the front door at this time of day, while the men were out working. Indie’s body tensed up before she forced herself to relax. Noisy, ominous footsteps could be heard moving across the bottom floor of the ranch house; from the entrance, to the smaller living area, then to the kitchen. The girls sat in deathly silence.
Marley trembled against Indie’s chest and clung tighter.
“Indie!”
“Oh, hell…” Grace breathed. The anger in the masculine yell was its own entity. A living, breathing, real-life horror movie villain.
Indie’s heart thundered as she rose slowly, first to her knees, then to her feet. Marley’s fingers gripped her painfully hard. The soft blanket they’d been wrapped in moments ago fell from her shoulders, pooling in a red mess on the floor.
“I’ll be back soon, okay? Go to our room and get everything ready to go to the stables.”
Both older girls’ stomachs churned as they stared at each other. This was unavoidable. Deep down, they both knew it.
Tears burned Grace’s eyes when Indie inhaled sharply, prying Marley’s grip from her and whispering reassurances into her ear as she passed her into Grace’s embrace. Indie took a step backward before managing a tiny, meant-to-be-reassuring smile and walking stiffly down the stairs like a woman walking to her execution.
Moments later, a door slammed on the other side of the house; Indie hissed for Grace to hurry to their room.
Grace scooped the child into her arms and abandoned their blankets and mugs, rushing to the bedroom down the hall as quickly as she could with Marley’s added weight—minuscule thought it was—in her arms. After shutting and locking the door, Grace curled around Marley beneath the bedcovers. Her face was hot with fear. Her knuckles turned white with the force she was using to grip the covers. Even though they never talked about it, Grace knew what happened when Indie was called to the study.
Especially in that tone of voice.
She’d seen the limp Indie tried to hide after a visit to the study; she’d seen the bruises and bandaged the cuts.
With the first hint of a raised voice, Grace buried Marley’s face in her chest and began frantically singing a song she’d always remember. The fact that she hadn’t heard it in over a decade meant nothing. The words to this particular song would be engrained on her heart and in her mind for as long as she lived.
So she sang it. Over and over, until Marley had cried herself to sleep and her own tears saturated the pillow beneath her face.
~ oOo ~
“Calm down, boy. It’s just me.”
With a slow, measured hand, Indie smoothed the dark gelding’s forelock and gazed into his solemn, chocolate brown eyes. “C’mon boy, help me out here.”
He’d been skittish and nervous all morning, pawing at his stall door until Indie let herself in, yet he’d refused to let her brush him despite it being his favourite activity. Every time she moved from her position at his head, he spun to hit her with his muzzle.
“What’s wrong, huh?”
“Talkin’ to that horse again?”
Grace heard Ryan’s good-natured ribbing from the opposite end of the barn. Deciding to take a break from sweeping the feed area, she rested her broom against the nearest wall and
made it to Bear’s stall just as Indie tossed a weak glare over her shoulder at a rather jovial looking Ryan; he was leaning on the door wearing an amused, toothy grin. Grace’s eyes danced away from his face when he glanced down and caught her staring.
“All right, Missy?”
The pair talked quietly while Indie continued soothing the horse’s frayed nerves. Her perceptive eyes missed nothing. She caught the way Grace’s cheeks flushed at his attention, her tone soft but certain when she spoke. It made Indie smile to see her so calm in someone else’s presence. She often held herself like a frightened puppy, so it was a relief to see Ryan bringing out her more confident side.
Bear’s mood eventually evened out enough for Indie to get him groomed before moving next door to the Frisian mare, Pamplinas. The flighty mare always managed to amuse anyone who entered her stall, and the ranch hands often teased her for her ornery nature.
“What’s for dinner tonight then, ladies?”
Indie turned her head to look at Ryan, leaning against the open door beside Grace. They’d followed her from Bear’s stall to Pamplinas’. Marley had, too. She was sitting, silent as always, on the cobbled stone floor a meter or so away from Ryan’s and Grace’s feet. Her ears perked up at the mention of dinner.
“Lasagne sound good to you?”
The look of sheer delight on Ryan’s face made her smile. They could have predicted his reaction—the rest of the men would doubtlessly be the same. They could always count on the guys to have healthy appetites. There was no such thing as wasted food or leftovers on the ranch, especially not when the temperature was so low in the winter. They all appreciated the hard work going into their food as much as the heat the meals provided their growling stomachs at the end of each day.
“Lasagne sounds great, Indie.” Ryan tipped his hat-clad head toward Grace with an impish grin, “And I suppose you made your tomato and chili sauce?”
At her hesitant nod, Ryan refrained from reaching out to squeeze her shoulder like he wanted to. Something told him the gesture wouldn’t be welcomed despite the rare half-smile she wore. “Perfect.”
The trio continued with their chores in various parts of the barn, their voices carrying quietly whenever they were close enough to talk while they worked. Marley made the occasional rounds to give each of the horses pats on their noses before climbing onto a bale of hay near Indie to watch her work. The majority of the other ranch hands were out in the snow, just a small group in the barn until the girls had to return to the house to prepare the sides to accompany the lasagne they’d promised.
Ryan watched the girls hurry up the freshly-shovelled path to the ranch house, waving when they glanced back at him. Indie’s arms were wound tight around Marley at her chest, Grace clinging to Indie’s coat to keep them both upright on the slippery terrain. Ryan smiled to himself when they stepped inside safely, shaking his head as he turned to climb up the ladder to the hayloft. With them snug indoors, the boss back early from his trip, Ryan felt he could relax—sure in the knowledge that no harm would come to the girls.
How wrong he was.
~ oOo ~
Around the dinner table hours later, Grace’s stomach churned. She was unable to appreciate the food she and Indie had slaved over all morning. For what felt like the millionth time, her eyes flicked upward to Indie’s face; the blossoming bruise on her right cheek made her wince.
Grace knew it was her fault they were late back to the house. Only by a couple of minutes, but…long enough to stoke the ire of the boss.
Now she had to watch as Indie chewed as slowly as possible. Pain filled her eyes with every minute movement of her jaw, no matter how carefully she chewed.
Eventually, the girls had attracted more attention than the boss was comfortable with.
“Girls, get started on the cleaning if you’re done,” he barked from the head of the table, hazel eyes flashing with annoyance; heavy with a warning the girls wouldn’t ignore.
The pair stood immediately, hustling into the kitchen with Marley quick on their heels. Tears sprung to Grace’s eyes as they hid out of sight.
“Are you okay? Do you want me to—”
“It’s fine, Grace. Calm down.” She cast a pointed look at Marley, clinging to her leg with wide, frightened eyes.
Indie ignored the half-full plates they’d carried to the kitchen and grabbed an icepack from the freezer. They were usually for the ranch hands when they pulled muscles, but one would do just fine for her bruised cheek. She caught the worried, tearful gaze Grace was throwing her way and forced a tiny smile to try and ease it, internally crying out at the ensuing sting of her sore skin.
It had been a bad day.
The boss was particularly angry for reasons unknown and had chosen to take it out on her. It wasn’t an unusual way for him to manage his anger, but it had been some time since she’d had to take two punishments in such quick succession. It left her feeling on edge, tired, and petrified that he wasn’t finished. Ryan’s questioning hadn’t helped, either; he’d pushed her to mumble that she’d fallen on the stairs, because she couldn’t think of anything else on the spot to explain her visible injuries. It had been even more difficult with Grace visibly blanching behind him, looking for all the world as though she was about to blurt out the truth.
“C’mon, then. Let’s get this done before he moans about that, too. You wash, I’ll dry and put away.”
Before Indie could move, Marley tugged insistently at the hem of her top. Unable to crouch, she discarded the icepack, held a breath, and lifted Marley with shaky arms. Unwilling to let Marley know just how much it hurt to hold her, Indie was forced to stifle the scream clawing at her throat.
Marley cocked her head, questions swimming in her eyes. Indie didn’t need her to speak to know what she was asking with her doe eyes.
“I’m okay, baby girl.”
Marley didn’t look convinced.
“I’m all right, just a little sore from doing lots of work. Can I have some ‘mooches? It’ll make me feel better.”
Despite being the youngest of the trio, Marley was arguably the most perceptive. She never missed a trick and she most certainly wasn’t mollified by Indie’s assurance that she wasn’t hurting. She protested with an almost inaudible whine, but leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Indie’s unmarred cheek before following it up with one to the tip of her nose. She hesitated before the last kiss; it should have been placed exactly where the purple was beginning to show through Indie’s pale skin.
“It’s okay, baby. Just be gentle.”
With wide eyes, a knot between her brows, and pursed lips, Marley closed the distance between their faces to brush a featherlight kiss to Indie’s bruised cheekbone. It was gentle enough that it didn’t hurt—Indie pulled back with as wide a smile as she could manage.
“Thank you, baby. I feel so much better.”
Marley scowled but didn’t complain when Indie carefully slid her down to her feet. She appeared contemplative as she took a seat on a stool while Indie set about filling the big metal sink with soapy water, fetching a drying cloth from the cupboard when Grace took over with the washing up.
Grace didn’t try to speak to Indie about her bruises again; she clearly didn’t want to discuss it. As she cleaned lasagne from the plates, it pained Grace to admit even subconsciously that Indie’s bruises weren’t out of the ordinary.
Even though they were quiet as they washed, dried, and put the dishes away, their minds whirred. Grace couldn’t stop picturing Indie’s bruised face.
Indie’s thoughts were elsewhere; they centred around their upcoming birthday.
They’d be twenty-one. Marley would be five.
It would go uncelebrated, of course. Indie and Grace always made a point of saving enough ingredients to make Marley a cupcake on her birthday, but she wasn’t aware of the significance. It seemed pointless to explain birthday parties and lavish cakes when they had no hope of giving her either.
Then as she often was, In
die found herself distracted by another fast-approaching birthday.
January thirtieth.
Unbidden, her eyes jumped to Grace’s profile. Though the date would upset her, she knew it would affect Grace more. The day would be a sombre one, just like it had been for most of their lives.
“And we’ll have a new guy arriving on the seventh. A cook, too. I want them to be up to scratch before this place starts filling up in the spring.”
Two different shades of blue eyes collided as body-numbing fear spread through the girls.
They listened with horror as the boss explained to the men in the dining area that they would be soon getting two new colleagues. It sent ripples of anxiety through both Indie and Grace. It had taken a long time, but they’d gotten used to the eight men on the ranch over the winter. Hearing there would soon be two new people, one they’d have to work closely with if they were a cook like the boss said, scared them both more than they’d like to admit.
As if that fear wasn’t enough, their stomachs were set rolling at the sound of a deep, sickening chuckle. It always freaked them out—how he could be so callous toward them, yet jovial in the company of others.
Indie often referred to his dual personalities. The first, the disgusting, cruel being she and Grace were well-acquainted with; the second, the cheerful boss and loving father he showed to the men.
Marley edged closer, leaving her stool and clutching Mr. Bunny to her chest as she wound an arm around Indie’s thigh.
To stave off the paralysis creeping up her spine, Indie reminded Grace to keep going with the washing-up so they could go to their room sooner rather than later. She smoothed her palm over Marley’s hair and down her back to soothe herself, as well as the little girl, until they could snuggle together in bed; the only place they felt a measure of safety.