CALDER
Meredith is riding ahead with Sawyer and Carlos, and there are 150 head of cattle on the road and in the ditch between her and me. She’s on Styx, looking as sexy in her jeans and snug shirt as she did when we rode the other day. Only, we won’t be doing what we did then.
My mood doesn’t fit the day. It’s early, so the temperature is on the cool side. We’ll turn out the cattle in their summer home before it gets too hot. They’ll have a few nice stock ponds and fresh lush grass. Since there aren’t a lot of calf-cow pairs compared to pasture space, Carlos won’t have to move them—maybe ever again.
Thin clouds punctuate the sky, but the sun bores through them. I tip the brim of my cowboy hat down. The leather on the saddles creaks, and the swish of grasses around the horses’ legs fills the air, along with the mooing of cows.
Did Meredith get any sleep last night? Did she wake up looking for me like I did when I opened my eyes this morning? I should’ve taken the couch, but like an optimistic fool, I waited at the table until I was sure she wasn’t returning home, then I tossed and turned in her wildflower scent in her bed. Alone.
“Remember how much of this road we used to take up?” Bowen’s walk down memory lane pulls me into the present. He sways on Willie, a paint Sawyer got through work when he proved too expensive for the old owners to keep. With a little TLC and better feed, he’s thriving at Crossroads.
Turkey vultures fly around us. The big black birds occasionally perch in the trees and on fence posts to watch for anything we stir up or leave behind.
Landry’s riding like he’s being filmed in the other ditch. The brim of his hat shades his eyes, his back is straight, and his gaze sweeps the road ahead. He’s stiffer in the saddle than usual, and I doubt it’s from sitting astride an unfamiliar horse. He was always the wild one who’d stand in the saddle or haul his horse to some friend’s ranch rodeo. He either hates today or hates how much he’s enjoying it.
“They used to spread out for at least twice the distance,” I reply, hating that I do give a fuck about how small the herd is compared to the last time we did this.
Landry shakes his head. We’re far enough behind the cattle that he must’ve caught most of what we were saying. “Why not just rent out the pastures?”
Dad would’ve had to let Carlos go, and his pride wouldn’t have allowed it. Carlos could’ve told him it was fine. He’s supposed to be retired anyway. But Dad wouldn’t have done it.
“The Sterlings would lease them,” Bowen says, “and none of us want that.”
For three idiots who want to walk away from the ranch, we shouldn’t care who rents it out as long as their money’s green.
“Gil would spread lies until he’s the only one willing to pay,” Bowen adds.
There’s that too. “Fucking Sterlings.” Flaunting their oil money and trying to ruin every good thing the Crosses have worked hard for. “Duncan offered Meredith a job.”
“Is that why you’re in a shit mood this morning?” Landry squints in the direction of Sterling land. It’s beyond the pastures, and Carlos planted the field with corn a month ago. The Sterling River winds its way around the back of the land. The same river beneath the bridge where Dad and Holly crashed.
“He’s in a shit mood because Meredith didn’t come home last night,” Bowen says.
I grind my teeth together. There goes my hope that Bowen didn’t notice Meredith was gone all night, or our distance this morning. She and Sawyer were already saddling their horses when Bowen and I got out there. Landry drove up not long after.
“Did the wort between you two flare too hot?” Landry asks wryly.
I glare at him. Monster Jam senses my disgruntlement and tosses his head. I suck in a deep breath full of warm cow smell and sunshine and let it out slowly. “She’s not moving to Denver with me.”
The guys go quiet. Good. Yet the restlessness returns, as if talking about my shit made it easier to deal with. Since when? We tuck our heads down and go to work. We don’t dwell, and we keep going.
But this is different. Meredith makes it different.
Bowen furrows his brow. “She’s going to work for Duncan then?”
Fire roars through my stomach lining. “I don’t know.”
“Eh, maybe it’s for the best.” Bowen loosely holds his reins. “Leaving’s easier when no one wants you to stay.”
My heart seizes. But she did, and I can’t. Why not again?
Right—my job. People counting on me. I have to make others rich. I rub an ache at my temple. Bowen’s the one who gets headaches, not me.
A calf gallops onto the road, veers to the left, sees the horses, and then sprints straight down the road. I nudge Monster Jamup the ditch and head him off. The black calf twirls around, spots his mama, and trots to catch up. Monster Jam chuffs, and I guide him back to walk next to Willie.
Bowen juts his chin toward me. “I think you’ve got yourself a horse there.”
“He belongs to Crossroads.”
