Saddles & Sabotage

by Nellie K Neves

  I felt as if I was headed to war. He gave me another couple small blades and I decided to follow Isabelle’s example to hide them where I might need them later. I thanked Tate, said goodbye and headed out the door. Dixie’s voice caught me half way across the parking lot.

  “Cass!” She’d spotted me as she headed up the hill, “Cass, come on, we’re feeding.”

  Again, she said it as though I should understand, so I jogged to catch up. She waited for me to fall into step and then we continued with a few of the others I recognized from dinner. We were alone before she asked, “So how bad was it?”

  “About how you’d expect.”

  Dixie rewarded me with one of her musical laughs. “Did Isabelle turn you to ice or breathe fire like a dragon? I swear she’s totally bipolar like that.”

  “More ice than fire, but there was a little bit of both.” I slipped the knife from my back loop and showed it to my roommate. “Tate gave me a new knife though.”

  Dixie snatched it from my hand and flipped the blade open as fast as Tate had. “This is a nice knife.”

  I smiled with a new sort of pride as I took it back. Life as Cassidy felt so much easier than life as Lindy.

  “We’ll toss down to you girls,” Wiley called from a few feet ahead, “you slash and spread, okay?”

  Dixie nodded, so I followed suit. Wiley and three other wranglers began climbing a towering mountain of hay bales, all stacked in what appeared to be an intricate pattern. Starting from the top, Wiley Fox threw the first bale. Bits of hay pulled free as it tumbled down the staircase of green alfalfa. Near the base a second wrangler caught it and threw it by the strings to where it toppled end over end down the hill toward the horses’ corral. Dixie caught the bale mid roll, slammed it against the wooden base board, freed a knife from a sheath in her pocket and sliced the twine that held the bale intact, all in one clean cut. She kicked the bale to pieces, spreading sweet smelling hay down the dirt trough that held dinner for the equine members of the staff.

  Soft whinnies and gentle nickers filled the air, plaintive cries for their own turn to eat. Some horses made it to the front of the pack quickly, while others were kicked and shoved to the back by the more dominant types. Smells of hay, dust and sweat wafted into my nose, wholesome and spell binding. The setting sun caught the dirt in the air, as if I could see every molecule in the space around me. I took it all in, hoping to memorize every part of this world I’d never imagined.

  “Cass, watch out!” Dixie’s voice caught me by surprise and I turned in time to see a bale smack down on me from the hill above. It wasn’t enough to injure me, but it certainly took my breath away.

  I heard Wiley snicker from the top of the hill. I raised my hand to assure the others that I wasn’t hurt. Dixie started to lay into them, but I stopped her short. I didn’t want to appear weak. It took three tries but I flipped my knife open, cut the bale and kicked the hay apart as Dixie had done.

  “Gotta watch your head, city girl,” a cool voice behind me warned.

  I turned to find the owner of the voice and saw the dark haired woman I’d seen as I’d arrived at the Rockin’ B. Tattooed sleeves covered her arms. A worn cowboy hat betrayed only two long braids at the sides of her head. My mother had styled my hair that way as a child, and it had been adorable. Somehow, matched with the stern stare and eyebrow ring, there was nothing childish or innocent about the way the wrangler wore them.

  “Alexis, leave her alone. She’s rusty, nothing more than that,” Dixie said as she pushed past me to get a runaway bale.

  “Sometimes it’s life or death out there,” Alexis continued as she sliced her own bale, “not sure I can trust someone as soft as her, Dixie.”

  My roommate rolled her eyes. “Life and death? Give me a break. In five years I’ve seen two rattlesnakes and a brown bear at a distance. It’s not like we’re special agents or anything.” She laughed at her next thought. “We babysit rich people on horseback.”

  Alexis watched me with wary eyes, and I wondered if she suspected the truth. I caught the next bale and sliced it with ease. Then I followed Dixie’s lead and began tying up bailing twine into neat bundles. It wasn’t long before the wranglers were in the trough with us, spreading hay and tossing a few flakes to the small horses who couldn’t find a break. We worked down the line until every bale had been tossed and spread. Then as if by some unspoken agreement or tradition, one by one each of the wranglers began climbing up onto the railing that surrounded the corral. Dixie nodded her head and said, “I was gonna take a few pictures of the herd. Ya wanna sit or are you dying for a shower?”

  Bits of hay dug into me, little leaves had worked under my lowest layers of clothes. The bale that had collided with me and left an offensive amount in the back of my jeans and it itched like crazy. Not to mention, as I saw them all perched on the rail like hens roosting for the night, I feared I might fall off.

  “I think I’m going to shower,” I said. “It’s been a long day.”

  I heard Wiley Fox whimper like a puppy, but Dixie shoved him hard enough that he tumbled from the rail. “It’s still up behind our cabin. I can walk you if you’d like. I have to get my camera.”

  I nodded, too much more help and it would be suspicious. As I climbed the hill to take my shower, I glanced over my shoulder at the rest of the staff perched along the railing watching the horses eat as though it were riveting entertainment.

  One of them is a murderer. The thought chilled me so deeply that I actually shivered.

  Chapter 11

  With minimal hot water and the occasional frog staring at me from the windowsill, I wasn’t eager to stay in the shower long. I got ready for bed, Tate’s words about breakfast at six am sloshed back and forth in my tired mind. I wasn’t a morning person, but I had to fake it. Dixie wasn’t in our cabin when I climbed up the scaffolding of my bunk. The ceiling pressed in on me, but I rolled over and ignored its lingering glare. I was too tired, and after all I was Cassidy, and Cassidy wasn’t claustrophobic.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The dreams returned. St. Anthony howled from the darkness, boney hands grabbed my arms, pulled at my clothes until they ripped. I fought back with a ferocity I never knew I possessed, tearing the emaciated limbs from the phantoms’ bodies as they tried to drag me to an open pit. I could hear the laughter from St. Anthony in the darkness. Jackie screamed, but I couldn’t see her. The phantom’s claws ripped into my skin, blood dripped from open wounds all over my body. The only way to escape them was forward, toward the pit.

  I ran, hoping to avoid them, hoping I could find freedom. As the gaping hole loomed closer, I heard a shot. The impact dropped me to my knees, blood spewed from my shoulder. Another shot rang out and my hands automatically pressed over my stomach. As I pulled my hand away, deep crimson stained the flesh. As if being eaten by acid, the skin around my hand started to decay, revealing muscle that turned to ash, bone that dripped like melting wax.

  St. Anthony removed himself from the shadows, a six-year-old Jackie tight in his decayed grasp. Without a word he pressed a boot into my chest, and shoved me backward. I tumbled, falling for what felt like forever as my body evaporated into nothingness.

  I woke with a start. My hands gripped the quilt in a white knuckle grasp. I’d cried out, I was sure of it. Where was Ryder? Why hadn’t he come? The space around me was dark, pitch black. I pressed my right hand out and found wood, then I stretched up above and felt the same. I was trapped. I’d fallen into a pit. It wasn’t a dream. I wanted to scream, to alleviate some of the panic that clenched like steel in my chest. I pressed my left hand out to find the other side of the box, but found nothing, only open space. My rational mind started to catch up. Not a pit, but a cabin, on a ranch, with a serial killer. Sweat pooled on my forehead and upper lip. The weight of the ceiling squeezed the bravery from my bones.

  I swung my leg over the side of the bunk and let myself drop to the floor. With both hands, I yanked and pulled until the mattress came free, then
I let it fall to the ground in a heap. Flattening it out on the center space of the cabin, I straightened my blanket, snagged my pillow, and settled in without the ceiling there to crush me.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  My first working day at Rockin’ B Ranch started with Dixie’s feet on my face. She screamed, I screamed, and then we both screamed again.

  “What are you doing on the floor?” Dixie stared at me as though I’d lost my mind.

  I couldn’t explain my claustrophobia so I simply said, “I didn’t like it up there.”

  “I thought you were dead or something.”

  It was too much, too early. I ignored every other word and got dressed. After ten minutes we were in the staff dining room. The entire room smelled like black coffee. It didn’t help my already tired and nauseous stomach. Then Wiley set a cup down for me and I pinned my lips together to keep from gagging.

  Tate’s voice went over the tasks for the day, trail rides, and an overnight for Two-Bit and Phoenix, whoever they were. As a final thought before he left he added, “Cass, you stick with Dixie for a couple days, until you can remember the trails again.”

  Through my haze I barely heard him, but I nodded anyway. I was sure I didn’t look much like the sharp investigator Ryder had promised, but it wasn’t like Tate could replace me either.

  Dixie slapped my shoulder. “Come on sleepy head, we have a group of ten at eight am. We gotta get moving.”

  With two hours left before our ride had to leave, I didn’t understand why we couldn’t sleep for another hour of it. It didn’t take long before I learned why.

  In those two hours, we had to feed the herd again, and that meant more falling bales and hay in my clothes. We had to divide the horses for the day into the groups that had work to do, and that involved a lot of arguing from everyone but me. Then we had to brush, tack and saddle every horse with their own personal gear, all the while fielding questions from the guests who had arrived early.

  Two-Bit and Chance left with their train of horses and guests around seven-thirty, and Alexis left with five guests on a half day ride soon after. “We’ve got valley today, Cass,” Dixie reminded me. She said it like it should mean something, but I wasn’t awake enough to try to imagine a lie to cover my ignorance. When I didn’t respond, she pulled me to the side. “Hey, you look hung over. I’m sure you’re fighting withdrawals or whatever, but pull it together because we aren’t gonna get any tips with you looking like this.”

  I nodded and tried to smile. She wasn’t impressed.

  “Do you want to bridle or handle the mounts?” Dixie asked

  Bridling wasn’t my favorite, but it was the only word I recognized. “I’ll do the bridles.”

  She spun on her heel and disappeared to the group of camera clad guests. I strode quietly to the first horse and removed the bridle from where it hung from the saddle horn. I went through every step Ryder had showed me, but the horse wouldn’t open its mouth. It backed slowly as if it might run, and so I followed it, backing the whole way. As I was about to give up, a strong hand caught my shoulder. I turned my head without releasing my grasp on the mare. It was the cowboy with the blue eyes from the night before.

  “Gypsy can be a pain, want me to do it?” he asked.

  I relinquished control and let him take over. Within seconds the little black mare was bridled and ready to go. The cowboy flashed me a quick smile and walked the mare to Dixie and the guests.

  My head fell forward in frustration, but I pulled it together and tried again on the next horse. It took me two tries and three teeth bumps, but I got the bridle on as the cowboy returned to work on the next ride. We continued as ships passing in the night until Dixie had every guest on a horse.

  I was about to thank the cowboy when Dixie yanked my arm. “Go get your horse, I’ll watch them here and mount last.”

  My horse? I wasn’t sure why it hadn’t crossed my mind, obviously I had to ride something.

  As I turned the corner of the tack barn I saw one lone horse tied to a rail and hoped it was mine. I checked the tag on the saddle, it read, ‘Toby’. I patted his shoulder, removed the bridle and slipped it on with ease. Toby became my new favorite horse.

  I held the reins and reached up above my head as Ryder had showed me. Toby was thicker, and taller than any horse I’d ridden at the manor. I bounced twice, but as I tried to mount, Toby walked forward. My foot slipped from the stirrup and I caught myself before I fell. I stopped the gelding and set my foot to the stirrup once more. I bounced, once, twice and on the third I came close, but lost my balance.

  I heard Dixie’s voice from the mounting area. “Thank you for your patience y’all. We will get started as soon as Cass gets over here.” Each word spoke of her frustration. I wanted to cry, throw down the reins and cry. I wasn’t a cowgirl. I wasn’t a wrangler or a tour guide. I was an investigator and nothing about this trail ride had to do with what I really needed to do.

  My cover was at stake and that did have to do with my job. I straightened my clothes, slipped my foot back in the stirrup and hopped, one, two, on the three I pressed my weight into the stirrup and heaved myself upward. As my leg weakened and thought about falling back down, a strong hand counter balanced the back of my leg while I swung over. As I came to rest in the saddle, I looked to the ground to my benefactor, the cowboy with the blue eyes again.

  His smile was shy and didn’t betray any of his teeth. “Toby is pretty big, looked like you needed a hand.”

  “Thank you,” I said as I urged my horse into a walk.

  The cowboy followed me and Dixie breathed an audible sound of relief as I came from behind the tack shed. She swung up on her small brown mare with a graceful ease and launched into a safety speech that she’d obviously memorized years before. The blue eyed cowboy moved from guest to guest, adjusting the saddle girths, checking stirrups, and chuckling occasionally at something someone said. He stopped at Toby last, pulled my leg from the stirrup and said, “Your cinch is loose, I’m gonna tighten it up. I don’t want you falling off.”

  Cassidy Billings was a flirt, but I wasn’t. I struggled for something sassy, or adorable, but all I found were the words, “Thank you,” accompanied by a smile.

  He did the work with second nature expertise and replaced my boot in the stirrup. “Have a good ride.”

  Dixie moved the group out and I held up the rear of the pack. I glanced back once at the blue-eyed cowboy, but he was already hard at work straightening the yard and the tack. From the front I heard Dixie yell back, “Everyone say, ‘thank you Dallas!’”

  The entire group of ten guests said in unison, “Thank you Dallas!” and the blue-eyed cowboy lifted a hand to show he’d heard.

  Just like that I realized I’d survived my first morning at the Rockin’ B.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  I settled into the work over the next couple days. I learned valley duty meant three trips to the valley, and in my case it meant the back of the train. It wasn’t long before I learned to stop smiling as we rode. A thin line of black dirt caked the bottom half of my teeth if I did. I also came to the quick conclusion that answering stupid questions with a whimsical story, possibly based on lies, earned a bigger tip.

  If it was early Idaho folklore they wanted, I could spin a yarn. If they were interested in environmental facts and ideas for conservation, then I could easily act as though the planet was my first interest. Most importantly, if a grandma wanted to talk about every grandchild she had, I was the most invested person in the state. Between Dixie’s family photography skills and my ability to garnish the big tips, we made quite a bit of money in three days, and my inability to tack was promptly forgiven.

  Thankfully the horses were accustomed to their job. All I had to do was point Toby at the rear in front of him and he did the rest. Every day was like the last: breakfast, feed the horses, tack, ride, lunch if I was fast enough, two more rides, eat dinner, feed the horses, shower and collapse into bed. By the fourth day my muscles were so sore I h
ad to use the wall to lower myself to sitting.

  I hid my medication in a cooler under my bag; syringes would draw too much attention. At the end of the day, while Dixie took her shower, I injected the medicine that reminded me of my true identity.

  It was easy to get lost in Cassidy Billings. The days were long and physical, but simple. Every now and then I caught Isabelle’s glare from across the yard. She wanted results, but there wasn’t much I could do until I had the trust of the staff.

  On Saturday evening, despite the burn in my legs, I laced up my running shoes and started for the river trail. I knew the woman’s body had been found along the trail, and I wanted to investigate the scene.

  “You don’t get enough exercise riding?” Wiley’s voice carried from where he perched on the rail with Dallas.

  I turned around and faced him as I spoke. “Sometimes I need a run to clear my head, that’s all.”

  I heard his voice as he told Dallas, “I’d still rather ride than run.”

  To keep up appearances, I started jogging. My legs almost buckled, as if they’d forgotten the rhythm or lacked the ability. Once upon a couple of months ago, I could do eight miles without extreme fatigue, but I wasn’t there anymore. When I was out of the fence monkey’s sight, I eased to a walk and let my senses take over. It felt cathartic to let my mind spin freely as I walked without worry of someone watching.

  The crimson splash never should’ve caught my eye, but a bird scurried in the underbrush and brought my head around. I knew the closest and most recent abduction site was a good mile from the ranch, and I was still a half mile away. But no mistaking it, the flash of red was blood.

  There wasn’t much, certainly not a pool, but as I crept near I could see the pattern of medium velocity splatter, indicative of blunt force trauma, too fresh to be a previous attack. I crept back into the tree line, careful not to disturb anything that might be evidence. Branches were broken; leaves were brushed back in two long tracks. In the dying light of the evening, I could hear nothing but my own careful breath.