Home Free. Claire McEwen
cracked her window to get some fresh air. No cattle approached. That was hopeful. Maybe if she rolled the window down all the way, then sat on it, then stood on it, she could climb over the roof of the cab to the truck bed. Her feet wouldn’t even touch the ground. She could toss the hay from there and never have to go near any cattle.
All it would take was a few simple steps. Unclip seat belt. Roll glass down. Put hands on window frame. Mandy leaned her head out, then her torso, getting ready to turn around so she could sit on the sill. A black steer just a couple of yards away raised its head and tilted huge ears in her direction. Mandy froze. Held her breath. Started to lower herself back into the cab. But the steer was curious and quick. It stuck its enormous nose in her face. Something slimy plastered her cheek.
“No!” Mandy fell back into the cab, scrambling to roll up the window, almost catching the steer’s nose in the process.
Skin cells recoiled from the slime on her face. She grabbed a bandanna off the passenger seat and scrubbed, trying to keep on breathing. Calm down. Calm down. Calm down.
The familiar self-disgust set in. What was wrong with her? She was born and raised on a ranch. This shouldn’t be a big deal.
But it was. It had been for years. Ever since the day her mom died. Tears stung and Mandy swiped at them. When would all the fear stop?
A flicker of motion across the black backs of the cattle caught her eye. Dark hair under a brown cowboy hat. Long legs in faded jeans. Shoulders wide under his padded canvas jacket. Arch Hoffman.
He was standing on the rail of the fence, waving with both arms to get her attention. She rolled down the window. “Hey,” she called, knowing that it didn’t matter what she said. There was no way she was getting out of this situation without looking like an idiot.
“What’s going on?” He shouted the words, but it was still hard to hear him over the indignant mooing. The steers wanted breakfast, and they were confused and frustrated. Well, boys, welcome to the club. She’d been confused and frustrated for years now.
“Not much,” she called back in a lame attempt at nonchalance. “What’s up with you?”
She could see the confusion on Arch’s face even from this distance. He probably hadn’t been expecting small talk. “Um, not much. You need a little help there?”
She forced a breezy voice. “I’m okay...just need to get out of this truck and get feeding.”
“Oh.” He paused for a moment, as if trying to come up with the right words. “It’s just that...you fell into the cab.”
How long had he been there, watching her make a fool of herself? “Oh, ya know, just lost my balance for a minute.” It was almost impossible to sound casual while yelling over the ruckus of forty upset steers.
Arch jumped off the fence and Mandy lost sight of him. She had a tiny moment to hope that he’d decided she was fine and was gone on his way. Then she saw him swing up on the back of a big black gelding and guide it along the fence to the gate. Leaning gracefully from the saddle, he let himself into the pasture, closing the gate behind him.
Mandy reached for the door handle, but her hand was shaking so hard she couldn’t grasp it. She wanted to get out and face Arch while tossing hay out of the truck like a pro. But fear had its cold claws sunk in deep.
With a wave of his rope, Arch cleared the steers easily from his path. He took their place at her truck window, looking down at her from his relaxed perch in the saddle. “Do you want me to feed them?”
His voice was a balm of gentle concern that almost brought out the tears fizzing hot beneath her eyes. She felt her cheeks heat, too, and knew her usually pale skin had gone scarlet. She couldn’t answer. But she nodded.
“Okay,” he said. “Just sit tight.”
She watched him in the side mirror as he guided his horse alongside the vehicle and leaned over, grabbing a few flakes of the hay she’d stacked there. He threw them to his right and several of the steers trotted toward the pile. Quickly he grabbed more hay and tossed it out behind the truck, creating another feeding area. Soon the pasture was littered with piles of hay surrounded by happy cattle. Mandy buried her face in her hands. He made it look so simple.
“All fed,” Arch called and brought his horse around to stand by her window again. “Are you okay to drive?”
“Yeah, sure.” Her voice scraped over the words.
“I’ll open the gate. Why don’t you bring the truck outside the pasture and park it?”
Mandy nodded and turned on the engine in mindless obedience, glad he was in charge, because her brain was blank in the aftermath of panic.
Arch opened the gate and she bumped through it over the rough ground. She parked and watched Arch shut the gate in her rearview mirror. He rode so well. Slinging an easy leg over the horse’s back, he dismounted and led his horse toward her.
Dread tipped her stomach. He’d want an explanation. But what could she possibly say without sounding totally crazy?
She stared straight ahead, but he didn’t go away. She heard his footsteps crunching on the dry earth and then he was at her window, looking down at her with a mystified expression. “Mandy, are you all right? You’re so pale... Are you sick?”
She could only hold his gaze for a moment. There was too much mortifying worry in his eyes. “Not sick.” She ran her fingertips over the steering wheel in nervous zigzags, tracing the cord that wrapped the vinyl.
“Then?” he prompted.
She couldn’t spit out the humiliating truth. If she stared at the steering wheel hard enough, maybe it would keep her tears at bay.
Arch brought his hand to her arm, and she jumped at the touch. “Are you frightened?”
The truth, said out loud, was jarring. She yanked her arm away from his fingers. “No!” It was a shrill bleat of a lie, but she went with it. “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night—too wound up after the wedding. When I got out of the truck to feed, I felt dizzy. That’s when you saw me fall back.”
His eyes were set deep beneath strong black brows. The skin around them creased with wear. Not smile lines. Hard-lived lines. When he searched her face, she knew he could see way too much. So she kept babbling. “I was just wondering if I should drive back out and feed them over the fence when you showed up. You saved me a lot of trouble and time.”
“But—”
“I’ve still got a lot of chores to do,” she interrupted. “I’m so glad you came along.”
“Mandy...” he tried again.
But she flashed him a plastic smile, desperate for space between them. “Boy, do I owe you! Yesterday you saved the cake, and today you salvaged my chore schedule.”
He was still intent on her, as if he could see right through her crazy. “What about the dizziness? Will you be okay?”
“I’m fine. I’ll just drink some water,” she assured him. “And try to get more sleep.” Lying didn’t come naturally. A low ache was seeping through her skull. She put the truck in gear.
“Wait,” he said. “I came by to say thank you. For sticking up for me yesterday. For the cake, too.”
“Hey, it was no problem!” Since when did she talk like someone’s hearty uncle? “But really nice of you to come by and say so. You must be really busy. So I’ll let you get on with it. Thanks, Arch!” Mandy gave a vigorous wave, and he got the message and stepped back, that mystified look still on his face. She pressed the truck’s accelerator a little too hard and it jolted her forward, adding insult to awkwardness.
Mandy steered the pickup haphazardly away from the pasture. Adrenaline coursed as if she’d just barely escaped with her survival. It was embarrassing enough being afraid of everything. It would be worse if people