Cowboys & Nightmares

Chapter Nineteen

Late July saw temperatures in the upper nineties as we began baling hay. I was still a rookie when they'd brought in the first cutting two months ago. That had been all round baled, and the wrapped bales sat behind the barn, waiting for the winter months when we would load them up and haul them out to the cattle. Now, the fields lining the driveway to the Big House were dotted with square bales. While one tractor had baled the remaining lines of downed timothy that had been raked, we'd hooked up a wagon to the other one, and headed out to collect the bound grasses. Now the baler had been exchanged for a second wagon, and it wasn't been long before we were almost done.

"You comin', greenhorn?"

I scrambled up the tall stack, taking Joe's outstretched hand and letting him pull me on top of the wobbly mound. We'd stopped for a small break, and Cook had driven out a huge barrel of water that we had quickly emptied. I had pinched the rim of two cups in one hand while climbing, and now passed Joe one of them as I sat down.

He peered into his water, his nose wrinkling. "You got hay in it."

I snorted as Dune joined us, his collar soaked with sweat like ours'. "Sorry, your Majesty. I figured that since you'd ingested so much this morning, you may like a little more to season your drink."

"Yeah. Love the hay." Joe reached in with a finger and slid a few tiny pieces out over the rim before taking a long swig. He smacked his lips with content, and I laughed at his silly grin.

Earlier that month, on a morning when he had joined us for a morning coffee, I decided to tell Joe about my past. Being such a close friend, I felt it was only right for him to know. He nodded grimly as I told him about everything, even Jonathon. Through it all, Dune had sat next to me. Just like he had been every night since I'd decided to join him in his room, he was by my side as I spilled my story, giving me an encouraging nod when I fumbled.

Suddenly, Joe looked up from his cup, his brows furrowed. "Rylie," he asked. "Why didn't your Dad ever stop your mom from pushing the other guys on you? It seems like he didn't really do a whole lot from his position."

I shrugged, my gaze turning to the small paddock where Arion and Ridge had been let out to exercise. "I don't really know," I replied, answering a question I'd been asking myself from the start. "He had to have known about it, because she and I fought so much. It was almost every night." I blocked out the shouting voices from my memories, trying to forget the hours I spent vainly challenging her, sometimes begging her to reconsider her choice. "But he was gone most nights. He worked crazy hours at the plant, and I think when he was home, Mom disguised everything.The only time he ever talked about anything was after Jonathon's funeral." I shook my head, scowling at the memory. "He was so clueless about everything. When he mentioned that Seth had been right about me talking to Jonathon, I shut down. I knew Mom had told him to say that one." I shrugged again as I pulled a long hay stem from the bale below me. "Besides, what could he have done? She was having affairs with a lot of the cops, so they wouldn't have done anything, anyway. The only time they got involved was when..." I let the sentence drop off, knowing what was implied. They both nodded.

"Hey, you three!" We peeked over the edge of the hay stack to see Snipe staring up at us, one hand on his hip while the other held up three fingers. "Y'all got three minutes to get ready. Then you'll take this load to the barn and unload while we fill up the second load." He quickly spun on his heel, heading for the other clusters of workers in the shade.

Dune reached out a hand, taking our cups and carrying them down to cook again. I watched him leave, then my eyes switched to Snipe, talking to another bunch. "Why isn't Snipe the foreman?" I asked Joe. "He definitely gets out here and works with us."