by Linda Berry
“Instinct. The same instinct you use when you’re working that cow horse of yours.”
She surprised the hell out of him by smiling, and he caught a look of amusement in her eyes that reminded him of her father. Her blond hair rose and fell softly on the breeze, a feminine contrast to the hard expression she usually wore. Up until now, he’d successfully avoided both Sterling sisters and life here had been pretty peaceful. Maybe by ignoring her, she’d get the message and go about her business. He placed his boot in the stirrup and hoisted himself into the saddle. Porter bucked two, three times, then settled down and responded respectfully to his signal to walk. Smooth and rhythmic. Justin gave short, brisk squeezes with his legs, signaling a slow, steady trot. Porter ignored him, obviously wanting to test the skill of his new rider.
He heard Cody snigger. Clenching his jaw, he popped Porter on the rump with the reins with just enough firmness to tell the horse who was boss. Porter responded by moving into the slow relaxed lope Justin wanted. Controlling the animal mostly with his legs and weight and a light touch of the reins, he rode him in large circles, then reversed direction and rode in small, precise circles. The horse was nimble and quick, and he allowed Justin to guide him through a number of reining patterns required for competitions; backing up, pivoting, sidestepping, fast spins.
Impressed as hell by the amount of training that had gone into the animal, Justin found himself grinning broadly. Porter was rock solid, with a lot of power and collected balance. Occasionally, he glanced at Cody, who watched his every move with a strange intensity.
He and Porter finished off with a couple of short bursts of high speed with long, sliding stops. The horse was a little rusty, but he understood all the basics, and in time, with more practice, he’d perform fluidly. He rode Porter to the gate, dismounted and led him out of the arena heading for the barn. Cody jumped down from the railing, caught up with him, and matched his gait.
“Porter’s a really solid horse,” he said, feeling tense from her presence. “Quick and responsive.”
“Yeah, I know. I raised him from birth. Did most of his training.”
“You’re a top-notch trainer,” he said, not disguising his respect.
The compliment didn’t register. She didn’t even blink. He noticed she had the same high cheekbones and full mouth as her beautiful mother. He felt a twinge of attraction to her, but then her mouth compressed into a hard line and her face tightened into its usual stony expression. Unapproachable. “That why you came out to watch? You wanna make sure your baby’s in good hands?”
“Of course,” she said in a haughty tone. “He’s a valuable horse.”
“I appreciate that. I know Kigers. They’re tough. In the wild, they can go forty, fifty miles a day, eating nothing but bitter grass. Hardly any water.”
She glanced at him, said nothing.
“Some Kigers can be traced back to a single stallion named Mesteño,” Justin said. “He was captured with the original herd in 1977 in Harney County. Is Porter related to him?”
“Yes.”
He endured an awkward silence as they entered the coolness of the spacious barn. The smell of pine shavings and oiled leather reached his nostrils. What was she up to? Cody parked herself against a stall door and crossed her arms, hands clutching her elbows. Shafts of light fell through the tall, angular windows, brightening her blue-gray eyes and giving her skin a golden luster. Dust motes danced in the air around her like tiny galaxies. She watched in silence as Justin tied Porter to a ring with a quick-release knot, then lifted the saddle and pad off his back and set them on a saddle stand. If she was trying to annoy him, it was working. “Is there something I can do for you?” He pushed up the brim of his hat.
“Yeah. How about talking?” she said with a slight flaring of nostrils.
He gave her a sideward glance, trying to figure out her motive for tailing him.
“You’ve been here for three weeks, and you’ve managed to say absolutely nothing about your personal life. You don’t tell stories, which is pretty damned unusual for a cowboy who’s done years of road trips.”
He hadn’t known she was paying attention. “I like to listen. More interesting. You learn stuff.”
She looked at him with suspicion, lines tightening around her mouth.
“What do you wanna know?” he asked, on guard.
“What you’re hiding.”
His whole body tensed. He grabbed a brush from the tack box and started giving Porter a good grooming, using short, firm strokes, loosening dirt and hair.
“Where’ve you been since high school?” Tone like a homicide detective.
“Doing rodeo for the last six months. Before that, college.”
“College?”
“Business major. That surprise you?”
“Why’d you quit?”
Justin looked at her over the mustang’s withers. “I didn’t quit. I ran out of money.”
She studied him. “Bear said you got beat up in Arizona. That true?”
“How the hell did Bear know that?” he asked, fuming.
“He was down there with Dad. They were sitting in the motorhome and saw some cowboys go psycho on you. Dad went out to help, but then some dude on a horse rode in and broke up the fight. Bear said they were badassed lowlifes, just itching to beat your brains in. That true?”
Christ. Did the whole ranch know his business? Did this female have any tact? Feeling his face heat up, he leveled a hard look at her, the brush suspended in his hand. “Is talking about my private life a job requirement?”
“I don’t want any trouble here,” she said tersely. “Those cowboys you messed with in Red Rock are known felons. Jeb Waters, and a scumbag named Porky. They have rap sheets from here to Texas. Got into some trouble in town a couple years back. Arrested for murder. Charges were dropped. Lack of evidence.” She was watching him closely. “I don’t want them coming here looking for you.”
“I’d never messed with Waters and Porky before Red Rock. Never will again.” He was brushing so hard, Porter stepped away from him.
“What’re you hiding from?” She eyed him coldly.
He felt the old fear and anxiety swirl in his chest.
“Maybe you’re wanted by the law. In three weeks, you’ve never left the ranch. You afraid of being spotted in town?”
“I’m not a criminal,” he said irritably, tossing the brush into the tack box. “I’ve done nothing that could get anyone here into trouble. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep my personal life private.”
“What’s your problem, Justin?” Her eyes flashed and anger flickered over her face. “Do you even know how to be social?”
“You’re not exactly one to give lessons. You think this was a fun conversation?”
She pinched her mouth, jammed her hands into her pockets.
He picked Porter’s hooves in silence. She didn’t leave. It dawned on him that it wasn’t a good idea to be on bad terms with Hank’s daughter. “I’m sorry,” he said, forcing his voice to sound friendlier. “I don’t mean to be rude. Guess I could use some etiquette lessons.” He gazed at the set edge of her chin and decided to give her a little of what she wanted. “Yeah, I got beat up in Red Rock. Bad, okay? Those bastards stole my rodeo winnings, fractured my ribs, put me out of work. I took this job because I needed money.” Now he was rambling. “I never owned a horse because I was an orphan. I didn’t have rich parents like you, who gave me things.”
Silence.
“I grew up living with foster families. Everything I know about horses and bulls I learned from working my ass off on other people’s ranches.” Memories of abuse crowded his mind, stoking his anger. “If you really want to hear some stories, I could tell you a lot about some of the asshole ranchers around here, and the shit that goes on behind closed doors …” His voice drifted into silence as he watched her. She now stood perfectly still, her face pale, and he interpreted the downward thrust of her mouth as an expression of pity. He felt his
face burn with embarrassment, and he felt the old irrepressible ache—the loneliness of being shiftless in life, with no moorings that tied him to family and friends, with no direction that pointed home.
A strong gust of wind swept through the open door, stirring up dust that carried the scent of sweet wild grass, then it settled down again.
Cody’s face colored, too. Bright pink blotches on both cheeks. A strained silence stretched between them. She unhooked her gaze from his and stared out the doorway of the barn toward the house. “Dinner started fifteen minutes ago. We better get a move on.”
“I’ll get Porter back to his pasture.” He added as she turned to leave, “I’m glad I took this job. Your dad’s been really good to me. I’ve had better treatment here than any place I’ve ever lived. I’d never do anything to hurt Hank.”
She gave him a funny look, like an attempt at smiling, but her eyes looked uneasy. “My dad’s very trusting. I’m not.”
Justin watched her walk away, trying to sort out the baffling mix of feelings she stirred inside him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Both Justin and Hank were late for dinner. Cody watched as the screen door opened and Justin walked in. He looked beat as he shrugged out of his coat and hat, hung them by the door, and made his way to the chair he’d claimed as his own. As always, he carried himself well, with athletic grace, his back straight, hands strong and square, nails always clean. He didn’t look at her. After her interrogation in the barn, she wasn’t surprised.
“Who spit-and-shined you guys?” Justin grinned at the three hands.
The room seemed to come into sharper focus and she noticed that all three men were clean-shaven and dressed in their going-to-town clothes. Good jeans, clean shirts. She was sure that under the table, boots were polished. Billy’s dark hair was slicked down and shone like lacquer.
“You coming with us, Justin?” Roth was wearing his Friday night happy-face in anticipation of seeing his girlfriend who lived in town.
“Yeah, man. Come knock back a few. Dance with the ladies,” Nelson raised his brows up and down, a wicked look in his eye. His sunburned face looked well-scrubbed, and his bushy mustache was neatly trimmed.
“Can’t do it,” Justin said. Carlos and Maresol had grilled thick burgers for dinner with all the trimmings, and Justin busily assembled his burger with lettuce, tomatoes, onion slices, pickles and condiments. “I’m dog-tired. I’ll go into town tomorrow to pick up some personal items.”
“Listen to him,” Bear said with a smirk. “He gets paid to exercise and watch videos. We work our asses off. He wears down running shoes.”
The hands laughed but Cody thought the remark tasteless. She found herself defending Justin. “He keeps the stables and paddocks clean. Anyone else want that job?”
“Shoveling shit?” Nelson grinned at Justin. “It’s all yours, dude.”
“I’ll pass,” Roth chimed in.
Each of the hands had started out with stable duty as a rite of passage. Now Justin was low man on the totem pole, fair game for badgering. Cody saw he took it in stride.
Talking on his cell phone, Hank strode into the room in full business mode and seated himself at the head of the table opposite Cody. He pocketed the phone, nodded to everyone and got busy preparing his food. She saw the tension leave his shoulders as he put his workday behind him.
“You’re a local, Justin,” Roth said, holding his cheeseburger in one hand, running a French fry through ketchup with the other. “Got family here?”
Justin chewed his burger. “Nope.”
Though she never looked directly at him, Cody always found herself keenly tuned in to what Justin had to say. He had maintained a quiet, modest manner since he arrived, which mystified her. He was hard to figure out. In the barn, she had to stoke his anger to get him to talk, and from his expression, she could tell he thought she pitied him. She didn’t. She identified with him, recognizing a similar toughness and vulnerability. His outburst told her a lot about his history. Adults in charge of his care had abused him. To what extent, she could only imagine. Seven months ago, she had barely escaped death at the hands of her ex-husband, who had abused her for three years. She and Justin both knew what it felt like to be terrorized.
The hands left promptly after dinner, eager to get to town. Cody and Justin ate in silence, listening to Hank and Bear talk shop. She caught her sister stealing glances at Justin when she thought Bear wasn’t looking. Bear laid his arm around Sarah’s shoulder and she pecked him sweetly on the cheek. “Let’s get a game of poker going,” Sarah suggested. “Who wants in?”
“I’m in,” Hank and Bear said in unison.
“Count me in. Let me grab my cards,” Justin said, wiping ketchup off his hands with a napkin. He left the table.
Cody’s mouth opened in surprise. Justin normally left the table right after dinner and didn’t reappear until breakfast. Sometimes she heard him strumming his guitar when she passed his room to go upstairs.
Billy’s mother, Maresol, came in and cleared the table. Sarah went into the kitchen and came back carrying a tray loaded with frosted bottles of beer.
Justin waltzed back in with a deck of cards, grabbed a bottle off the tray, and sat down next to Sarah. “You in, Cody?” Surprisingly, he smiled at her, his tanned face emphasizing the neon blue of his eyes.
Her impulse was to say no, stay away from the handsome bull rider, but something in his smile melted her resistance. “Yeah, I’m in.” She reseated herself next to Hank. “Prepare to lose your shirt.”
“I like this shirt,” Justin said with lazy amusement, shuffling the cards like a Vegas dealer. “Think I’ll keep it. Better watch your own.”
“Ooooh,” Sarah said, her eyes lighting up. “Is this turning into strip poker?”
“You wish,” Cody said, taking a swig of beer. “You’d probably lose on purpose.”
“If I was wearing your shit-ugly clothes,” Sarah snorted. “I’d definitely lose on purpose.”
Cody shot her sister a heated look. It was returned in full measure.
Hank’s voice hardened. “Sarah, watch your mouth.”
Sarah flinched a little beneath his cool stare. “You always take her side, Dad.”
“Don’t start, Sarah.”
She sat steaming. “Cody this, Cody that. Cody Miss Perfect. When do I ever get credit for shit?”
“Shut up,” Cody snapped.
Sarah looked at Bear for support. The foreman said nothing. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“Can we skip the wrangling tonight, Ladies?” Hank said.
An uncomfortable silence settled over the group. Cody wondered what Justin thought of their petty quarreling. Why did she care what Justin thought?
“Wanna see a little magic?” Justin broke the strained silence. He sounded relaxed, unconcerned.
All eyes turned to him. Hank looked relieved.
Justin brought out a playing card from his deck and showed everyone both sides. “The ace of spades.” He rested the card on his hand, palm up. With the other hand, he pulled an imaginary string above the card. The card lifted and floated half a foot above his hand for several seconds, defying gravity.
Cody heard Sarah gasp.
Justin placed the card back in the deck, shuffled, then shot the cards back and forth from one hand to the other, so fast it was a blur. Holding the deck in his left hand, he flicked out the bottom card with his little finger. It spun like a top, floating above the deck. He held his right hand above the spinning card and gently twirled his index finger. The spinning card made a small circle in the air. Justin made a broader circle with his hand and the spinning card made a broad circle over the table and returned to his fingers. He caught it and turned it over. It was the ace of spades.
Sarah’s eyes were wide with wonder. “How’d you do that? That is so cool.”
“What’s under that card?” Cody asked.
“Ah, we have a skeptic.” He showed both sides of the card. “See, no lev
ers, no pulleys, no invisible string.” He met her eyes, held her gaze.
“What’s up your sleeve?”
Justin pushed both sleeves up to the elbow, revealing nothing but skin. He grinned. “Pure magic. Plain and simple.”
Despite herself, Cody smiled back. “Let’s see if some of that magic rubs off on your poker game. We’re playing with my cards.”
She saw Justin and her father exchange a smile. Laugh lines fanned around her father’s eyes. It was clear the two shared a special friendship. Bear on the other hand, was glaring. Cody could feel his pulsing resentment even though he sat several feet away. He downed half a beer in one gulp.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Early Saturday morning, Justin drove into town. The warning symptoms of anxiety started tightening his chest as he eased his truck to a stop in the parking lot. Sitting motionless, he studied other parked vehicles and folks strolling in and out of Umpqua Bank, where he’d opened an account online. He didn’t recognize anyone. He took a deep breath, walked hurriedly inside and deposited most of his paycheck. His second stop was the drugstore. Here, too, he kept an eye open while stocking up on toothpaste, razors, shampoo, and shaving cream. He looked through half a dozen greeting cards before picking one out for Avery. At his third stop, the post office, he spent a long time standing at a counter composing a letter.
The buildup of longing he felt after weeks of solitude encouraged him to get raw with his feelings. He signed his name with lots of Xs and Os, enclosed a payment toward the boots and clothes she bought him, sealed and mailed it. He hadn’t realized how much he’d miss her, especially after dinner when he and Avery drank beer on the porch together and he sang cowboy love songs, and her face radiated open affection. In bed each night, memories of their lovemaking loomed in the darkness, vivid and real. He yearned to touch her body, smell her skin, hold her close. Now he understood with excruciating clarity what it meant when a woman got under your hide.
Justin snapped out of his daydream and realized he’d been hurtling down the highway thirty miles over the speed limit, fleeing back to the safety of Sterling O.