Vanessa had been prepared for a fight; I could see the blatant shock in her almond eyes. “Of course,” she said.
I pushed through the door, snatched my keys from the counter and strode down the front steps. Let Vanessa comfort him when I left without a goodbye. That was what she was there for after all.
I hefted my suitcase into the car and glanced up at the manor. It was still, silent and empty as far as I could tell. I slammed the truck and popped my driver side door open.
“Lindy!” Ryder’s voice called out. He jogged from the trail that led to the stable. “Lindy, wait!”
My shoulders slumped and my eyes fell shut. The week had been a drawn out death scene from an old western. Couldn’t he let me slink off and wither away in peace?
His boots ground against the driveway as he jogged the last couple steps to stop directly in front of me. “Were you going to leave without goodbye?”
I held up the slip of paper that had the address. “I have my location and my GPS, what more could I need, Mr. Billings?”
His face crushed inward and I found it ironic that he tried so hard to get his staff to use the name, but the second I used it, it was offensive. “Don’t call me that.”
I was tired of arguing. I ran my palm over my forehead and down my face to try to erase the frustration. Over his shoulder I could see Vanessa through the dining room window. Her arms were folded; I swore her lips were tight, though it was hard to see.
“I’m headed out. Goodbye, Ryder.”
He took my shoulders and pulled me away from the car. “Lindy, about last night, I didn’t know she was coming. She showed up and—”
“And you had a nice date with your girlfriend. I’m sorry if I interrupted.”
He took a step closer and I could feel his warmth. “Huckleberry, I’m sorry I hurt you.”
The words cut at me like a thousand blades at once. My head dropped forward, suddenly weak under his touch. “I have to go. Please let me go.”
His forehead rested against mine and pushed me back with pressure. His eyes traveled to my lips for one second before he retreated. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“If you want results, I can’t promise that,” I told him.
Worry and concern creased his forehead. “Please, don’t do anything crazy. Come back in one piece.”
I wouldn’t promise, but I could nod.
He stared at my face, lost in secret thoughts. Taking a breath, Ryder leaned forward and pressed his lips to my forehead. The pressure was hard and insistent, and as I closed my eyes, I could feel it against my lips. I could pretend we were back on the bluffs, back in each other’s arms, flying like we always had when we were together. For that moment, I cracked. It was a bad idea. The kiss was wrong, but it belonged to me. Nothing could take that away from me, not St. Anthony, not Vanessa, not whatever waited for me in the future. The innocent kiss pressed to my forehead wasn’t much, but it was mine.
I felt the pressure of his grip even after he released my arms. He said obligatory things about driving safe or taking breaks when I needed them, but all I heard over and over again were the unspoken words, “I’m sorry.”
Chapter 9
The open road was a soothing balm to my soul. I rolled the windows down and let the air wash over my body. The ranch was in the south eastern half of the gem state, a little too close to Montana and all the bad choices I’d made there. I drove all day, stopping only when necessary, and quit in Pocatello, Idaho, about two hours from the Rockin’ B. I checked into a cheap motel and when I flopped down on the bed, I immediately missed the bed at the manor. The sun set and questionable happenings outside my door urged me to flip the lock and lace the deadbolt. I considered showering and then thought better of it when I noticed the orange ring around the tub. Instead, I changed into a pair of Cassidy’s pajamas and tried to get comfortable. I called Uncle Shane and filled him in on the new developments and plan. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea, but he knew not to challenge me.
At ten pm, as I was flipping through bad cable, my phone buzzed. I picked it up and read the message from Ryder.
“I hope you’re safe. I miss you.”
Did he know that he could unravel me with a simple phrase like that? Surely he had no idea how perilous it was to forget my cover and remember my real life. Though it hurt, I wrote back a quick reply.
“I made it to Pocatello. Please let your family know that I will arrive around noon tomorrow. Thank you for your concern.” I paused before I typed it out. “Mr. Billings.”
There were no more texts. He needed me to be mean. It was the only way to keep him safe. My life wasn’t meant for someone like him. I loved my work, and that was good enough for me. At least that was what I repeated as I fell asleep to sirens and the shouting match that bled through my wall.
♦ ♦ ♦
After a stale bagel and some questionable orange juice from the hotel breakfast, I hit the road again. I practiced my name along the way, trying it out and weighing it against my voice. No matter how I said it, Cassidy Billings didn’t sound natural.
The Rockin’ B Ranch was outside of town, though what passed for a town was not worth naming. My GPS led me down a gravel road and pebbles struck the undercarriage if I drove over ten miles per hour. After two more miles, I spotted an arched sign over the road that designated my destination, “Rockin’ B Ranch” complete with symbols at each end of a capital B on a half circle. I let my car ease under the sign. An eerie feeling drifted over me, like a bad science fiction movie complete with cheesy sound effects to indicate trouble. There weren’t that many trees, but through the vein of aspen to my right I saw a log cabin, not like the pioneer type I’d seen in history books, but larger than my parent’s home and constructed completely from fallen logs.
I followed the road forward, dipping and popping over potholes as I traveled. An expansive corral with more horses than I could count cropped up momentarily until it was blocked by a long narrow building and then a crowd of people on horseback. My heart quickened as I realized I was supposed to become one of the wranglers. A girl with hair as dark as Vanessa’s maneuvered her horse forward with one hand and called over her shoulder to a group of riders behind her. The confidence she exuded intimidated me to my core. I was barely above the guest’s skill level. How was I supposed to fool anyone long enough to investigate the case?
The dirt road emptied into a parking lot, or at least the dirt space that served as one. I parked, took a few deep breaths and said aloud, “My name is Cassidy Billings. I belong here.”
I swung my door open and set my boots to the soft dirt. I didn’t bother with my bags; there would be time for that later. Body language was as important as my words. I couldn’t appear as nervous as I felt. This was supposed to be a homecoming of sorts. I shoved my fingers into my back pockets to hide my anxiety and began walking. I saw a grouping of small cabins to the far left, and a separate building with benches out front to my right. I opted for the main building, thinking that perhaps it might house an office.
Guests, or people I assumed were guests, milled around in the open space in front of the building that boasted a sign The Lodge. Some waited for a payphone; a contraption I didn’t think existed in an age of cell phones. Some ate ice cream or snacked on other confections as they sat on stumps that doubled as seats. It dawned on me that I didn’t know what Ryder’s mother or uncle looked like. I paused and kicked at the dirt with the toe of my boot, making a small indentation. The strife between Ryder and I had compromised my judgment. I‘d been solely focused on ‘us’ and I’d forgotten my job entirely.
I felt exposed, too easily recognized for the fraud I was. Ryder had worried that I couldn’t cut it, and in that moment, I feared he was right. The clothes were too tight for my taste, my hair felt like straw and I knew no one. I thought I’d felt isolation before, but being set out in the wind of a two hundred acre dude ranch with a possible serial killer was a new sort of lonely I’d never felt befor
e.
People called to each other, names that flew on the wind with familiarity. A bus lumbered up the road that I’d followed in only a few minutes before. Families gathered, names were shouted with urgency, and there I stood, a stranger in an unfamiliar world. I felt the tightening in my chest, the same panic I’d felt in the MRI. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t convince anyone that I was—
“Cassidy!” The voice called for the fifth time. I finally recognized my new name and spun on my heel. A tall man with a brown cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes called to me. I squinted against the sun and immediately recognized Ryder’s smile on his uncle’s face.
“How is my favorite niece?” The tall man threw his arms around me with such commitment that I could’ve believed him if I didn’t know better. Our close proximity gave him a chance to bear character as he whispered in my ear, “Start acting girlie, there are a couple ranch hands watching. I hope you’re as good as Ryder said you were.”
The differences were noticeable. Deep wrinkles around his eyes, gray at the temples of his dark hair, but the majority of his features reminded me of Ryder.
I tightened my arms around him and squealed a happy noise. “Uncle Tate, it’s been too long. I’m so happy to be back!”
He pulled away and said, “Let me look at you. You’re all grown up.” I kept my smile together as he held me at an arm’s length and surveyed my cover. I saw approval in his disbelieving eyes and he hugged me again. The whisper filtered into my hair as he said, “It’s uncanny really, other than the freckles you look a lot like her.”
I laughed loudly as if he’d made some sort of joke. “Enough of this hugging business, why don’t you show me around, Uncle Tate? I’m sure it’s changed a bit since I was last here.”
He led the way, and I was left to wonder if I’d convinced anyone. If I could make it through the first week, I knew I was set.
Once we were clear of the lodge, Tate relaxed a little. “You’re not bad. I have to admit, I thought Ryder was crazy when he suggested this, especially when he demanded Cassidy’s father send her entire wardrobe, but I get it now.”
“I’ll do my best. I might need a few pointers now and then, Ryder didn’t give me too much to go on.”
“Ryder and Cass grew up together,” Tate said, “but over the last few years, what with them both being in school far away from each other, he hasn’t seen her in quite some time.” Tate’s arm came up to point to the long narrow building I had seen as I had arrived. “That building is the saddle shed. We have thirty-five horses, and each one has its own saddle. You’d be best to memorize the order. Cass was well known for being able to find tack in ten seconds or less.”
I took a deep breath and added it to my list of chores. Tate motioned to the corral. “These are the horses. There are a few out on a ride right now. Alexis took a group of tourists out to see the valley. It’s a three-hour round trip. We run that one three times a day. You’ll take that the most often.”
“How many types of trips are there?” I asked as I watched the mass of horses move between each other like a Seattle traffic jam.
“A three-hour to the valley, six-hour to the foothills, and a full day into the waterfall near the river head,” he said. “There’s also an overnight trip up into the mountains, but our experienced wranglers run those, typically the men, though Alexis and Dixie sometimes go along to cook.” He threw a dubious glance my way. “I’m still trying to figure out how to explain your sudden bad riding.”
My pride prickled. He hadn’t seen me ride yet. Then I wondered if Ryder had warned him that I wasn’t up to par. It unleashed an entirely new wave of panic and anxiety.
Tate moved on without missing a beat. “Up here on the right are the guests’ cabins. Some people come in by bus, eat at the café, buy snacks, go hiking, and of course ride the trails. Back at the lodge we do dancing nights, and live music. Dallas and Wiley Fox put on a real good show.”
I struggled to file the information away. Each word felt foreign to me. “What would I do during that time?”
He weighed the question. “As an employee, your job is to entertain the guests, as an investigator, I suggest you use the time to gather information.”
I not only had to balance my identity, but two jobs as well. It wasn’t the first time, but with the relapse still fresh in my mind, I wasn’t entirely confident.
A sea of small cabins was set to the left of the campfire. They were modest compared to the homier guest cabins. “This is where you will stay. These are the wrangler cabins,” Tate told me. “You’ll be in eight with Dixie. She may not be real happy about it. She was supposed to have a private cabin this year. It’s her fifth year back, but I reminded her that nothing is ever set in stone.”
A hostile roommate, just what I needed. “Did she know Cassidy before? How many people do I have to convince?”
Tate pondered the answer for a moment. “Cassidy hasn’t been back for a whole summer in four years. She came for a couple weeks two years ago, but she stayed with the family when she came. Dixie knew her, but not well. I know Wiley Fox knew her, but Wiley rarely remembers women’s faces.”
The implied statement made me uneasy.
“Tumbleweed knew her, and some of the kitchen staff too, but again, it’s been so many years, you might have a chance.”
I hoped I had more than a chance. “Anything else?”
“Dinner is at six pm, breakfast is at six am, and lunch is any time you can grab it during the day.” He paused and sized me up again. “Do you have any questions?”
More than I could count, but I settled on the first one that came to mind and asked, “Does Cassidy have any nervous ticks, like chewing on her lip, or biting her nails?”
It took no time at all to think of it. “She twirls her hair all the time.”
I caught a piece of my newly blonde hair and twirled it around my finger. “Like this?”
Tate considered it, but shook his head. “She weaves it, in between three fingers and then lets it fall out.”
It was one more piece to my checklist. I looked at Tate and was again reminded of Ryder. Pulling my phone from my pocket to message him news of my safe arrival, I noted the no service warning at the top left corner.
“You won’t get reception out here,” Tate informed me. “It’s spotty at best. Now and then something will make it in, but nothing makes it out.”
Tate made cell reception sound like a cheap horror movie.
“So, how do I call people?” I asked.
“The pay phone works. There’s a phone line in my cabin, but we told the staff that we brought you on so that you could learn responsibility. They needed to know you won’t have special treatment this time.” His smile was a weak attempt at apology. “Mail is real reliable. Good thing since we have a dial up internet connection.”
I felt as though I was starting a new job with both feet hobbled.
“Isabelle is out of town for a couple days.” His mouth scrunched to one side then straightened again. “I know she is really looking forward to meeting you.”
The way he stressed the word ‘really’ worried me.
Boots, saddles and other tack lay in front of a few of the wrangler cabins. There were small stumps set up in semi circles, as if they had been used for chatting only a few minutes before. A pickup truck was camped out near cabin seven. Tate shook his head as he saw it. “You can park your car back here like Dallas does, but please don’t take a nap every day like Dallas does.”
As if to reply, a pair of denim clad legs shifted from where they hung off the back of the tailgate, but no head appeared from beneath the cowboy hat. The wrangler’s arm rose in a beleaguered greeting then dropped back into slumber. Tate sighed and pointed straight ahead. “Cabin eight is right there, and you can drive your car up the backside and park it next to Dixie’s if you want.” For Dallas’ benefit Tate gave me another big hug and said, “It’s good to have you back, Cass. I’ll see you at dinner.”
I focus
ed on my cover as he hugged me, but since I wasn’t one for excessive physical touch, it was hard to smother my discomfort. He released me, waved once, and started back down the dusty trail that led back to the lodge. I forged ahead to the cabin marked with an eight painted in red. Before I arrived at the doorway, I heard a thick southern accent.
“I don’t understand why they hired one more.” Her anger was unreserved. “We are staffed as is, and she wasn’t very good the last time she was here. The girl spent more time flirting with you boys than she did working.”
A man’s voice spoke up. “I never complained.” He laughed, but she didn’t. The man spoke again, “Come on, you know why they let her on, she’s family. I’m sure her parents begged to get her little spoiled butt back in here. Maybe they wanted a break too.”
The question had itched at the back of my mind since Ryder had told me I had to be Cassidy. I’d originally wondered why I couldn’t have my own alias, but it made sense. I was coming in mid-season, the roster was full and yet I was added. Family was the only viable excuse.
“Well, I can tell you where she can shove her entitlement,” the woman’s voice continued.
I considered leaving, retrieving my car and hoping for different circumstances when I returned. Lindy wouldn’t see the point in rocking the boat this early in the job. But I was Cassidy, and Cassidy loved to argue.
I let my boot land hard on the front step as my roommate was about to launch into her long rant and said, “Really Dixie, talking about me already? I haven’t made it through the doorway yet.”
The words froze in her throat and I hoped with every last molecule of my body that she really was Dixie. Her blonde hair was streaked with an ashen brown, as if the dust had permanently stained the strands. She was pretty, rounded cheekbones, bright green eyes, and a button nose that super models paid thousands for. Yet there was something clean and wholesome about her, the epitome of the girl next door. Where Cassidy chose to wear copious layers of cosmetics, I could barely see a trace of makeup on Dixie’s dirt smudged skin.
Saddles & Sabotage Page 8