Everyone stopped and stared at me. Cash with surprise, Goodie with straight up disbelief, Maverick with soft appreciation. But Mister Mooney’s heavy gaze on me almost had me eating my words. The weight of his stare was crushing, and with his sunglasses blocking his face, I couldn’t read his emotions.
“I’ll take over for Goodie,” I repeated when it was clear no one was going to say anything. “You said there’s a wager, right? How much money we talkin’?”
“Two grand,” Goodie said. “You sure you wanna kill yourself overthat?”
If only he knew just how desperate I was right now. The insurance company still hadn’t gotten back to me yet, but I doubted I’d be getting much. And while two grand didn’t seem like much, it could set me up with a nice new heat press and sublimation printer to start up my shop up again.
I looked to Mister Mooney. “So…can I take over?”
He scratched at the stubble on his chin and regarded me for another long moment, finally offering me a nod. “Alright.”
I grinned, my gaze flicking to Maverick. His lips curved up into a soft smile and he nodded. I wonder if he knew why I’d decided to do this. It seemed like he did. It felt like he did…if that made any sense.
Mister Mooney huffed out a loud sigh and nodded at Goodie and Maverick. “Well, should we get back to the ranch and doctor up those calves in pasture three?”
Cash frowned. “What’re you talkin’ bout?”
“I asked Maverick if he’d help me with some of the new calves back home,” Mister Mooney said with a shrug.
“Mav’s done enough today. I can help.” There was an earnestness, a desperateness to his voice that was so wholly un-Cash-like that had I not knownwhyhe was acting this way, I’d be worried.
But I understood the sudden want—no, need—to make sure Maverick was okay. I felt the same too.
Cash’s dad shook his head, a frown on his lips. “You got a fever or somethin’, boy? You ain’t ever volunteered to do shit for free in your life, unless it involves gettin’ your pecker wet.”
I bit back a laugh, even as a scowl formed on Cash’s lips.
“Besides,” his dad went on, “you’re too rough with the babies, and I asked Maverick.”
A muscle tightened in Cash’s jaw, his hazel gaze narrowed on his dad, but after a long moment he blew out a breath. “Fine.”
Mister Mooney nodded to his brother. “Get your ass outta that round pen before she kills you, Goodie. And give Maverick your keys. We ain’t waitin’ out in this fuckin’ heat for your sorry ass.”
I looked between Mister Mooney and Maverick. I didn’t want him to leave. Firstly, what the hell was I going to do here by myself? And secondly, he still wasn’t talking. Wasn’t fully back to himself. There were glimmers now and then, but he was still so quiet and stoic. His smiles were few and far between.
“Can I come along?” I asked. “I’ve worked with calves before.”
While Mister Mooney’s gaze wasn’t harsh and cold as it had been toward Cash, there was a firm finality to it. I knew the answer before he even opened his mouth. “You got that red filly to work with.”
I sighed, disappointment writhing in my chest, but I lowered my gaze to the ground and nodded. “Yes, sir.”
The jangle of keys and the rhythmic chink of spurs drew my attention. Maverick had climbed over the pipe-stall and made his way toward me—Goodie following behind, albeit a bit slower. Maverick didn’t speak as he placed a soft hand on my shoulder, his sunglasses stare holding mine for a long moment, but he didn’tneed to. I knew what he meant well enough.It was okay and he’d be back soon.
I offered what I hoped was a reassuring smile. “Text me if you need anythin’.”
He dipped his head, a soft smile coming to his lips
as he flicked my nose gently. I waved him off, a huff of laughter escaping me. He turned and clapped Cash on the back before nodding to Mister Mooney.
“Be right there,” Cash’s dad responded, waving a hand at Goodie and Maverick. “Y’all head to the truck.”
Without a backward glance, the two headed off for Goodie’s pearly white King Ranch edition Ford F-350.
As soon as the doors shut, Cash whirled on his dad. “Why’re you makin’ him do this? Ain’t he been through enough shit? He don’t need your bitchin’, and we all know what a prick you can be when you’re doctorin’ them cattle.”
Mister Mooney took off his sunglasses, the hazel depths swirling with some unknown emotion I couldn’t place. A smug smirk coated his lips, though. “I ain’t actin like nothin’, boy. That’s the thing…you two are the ones makin’ it seem like somethin’s wrong with him. I’m treatin’ him like I normally would, which is what he wants. What he needs. He don’t want no coddlin’. No fussin’. He just wants things to be as normal as possible.”
He took a couple steps, his focus on his boots, before nodding and replacing his glasses. It was a contemplative stance, one that I noticed Maverick doing on occasion. When he looked up, he fixedCash with a soft smile as if he was lost in old memories. “Wanna know why that boy started talkin’ again? It was you, dipshit. You, who treated him and talked to him like not havin’ a voice was no big deal at all. Like words weren’t needed to communicate. In those ten months, you talked so much, you spoke for the both of ya’s. You gave Maverick a voice and made him feel normal. That’s what he needs now.”
