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I crossed my arms across my chest and fell to sleep with a stupid grin on my face.
“Well, she’s disgusting,” Piper said, filing at a nail.
“What?” I asked, spinning around in my stool to face her.
“This Cricket you speak of. She sounds dumb. She has no direction. She doesn’t want to stay at her grandparents’ ranch, but she’s too afraid to tell them so. She has no direction. She doesn’t share your dream. She’s not meant for you. Besides, she’s a frail little thing. Not very attractive, if you ask me.” My blood was boiling at a dangerous level. I found myself panting to control the anger. My fists coiled at my sides. “She’s going to take your money,” Piper provoked.
I unexpectedly launched myself at Piper and wrapped my hand around her throat. Her nail file rang out as it hit the tile beneath our feet.
“Take. That. Back,” I gritted.
My hand tightened and her face began to look purple but instead of desperation, Piper’s eyes delighted in mischief and she smiled. I removed my hand and sat once more to calm myself down.
“Sensitive?” she asked, catching her breath and leaning against the subzero in her ridiculous silk gown.
“Don’t ever talk about her like that,” I ordered, still trying to tame my temper.
Piper laughed.
“You’re losing sight of what you’re doing. You’re too distracted. You need to focus. Girls will come and go, but this opportunity you’ve been presented is a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”
My eyes narrowed on her. “How-how do you know about that?” I asked. “No one knows about that.”
Piper sprawled out over the large island and faced me, her crimson hair cascading all around her. “I know everything,” she whispered. She ran a hand across the flat of her belly and patted it once. “Like when I knew Bridge was going to get pregnant...I orchestrated it!” she giggled insanely. “Just like I knew your mama would always stay with your father because she’s too cowardly and lazy to create a new life for herself. She’d rather taint her children with your father’s vile influence than save their souls.” My teeth began to grit. “I know everything. Just like I knew that teller would offer her body to get a little piece of your fortune.” Her voice dropped to a murmur. “Like I knew you would take those photographs. As I said, I know everything.” She laughed. “It’s almost too easy. People make it way too easy. No one has conviction these days. It’s pathetic. It’s not even fun anymore.”
She began to cackle shrilly and it got louder and louder, so loud my eardrums felt like they would burst. I clasped my hands over my ears and shrank into myself. “Stop!” I begged. “Stop!” I yelled again. “Stop!”
“Stop!” I cried out. I shot up and sucked in a frantic breath, in violent need of oxygen.
My alarm pierced throughout the room and my hand trembled as it reached to turn it off. Sweet silence rang through my head once more. My body sagged against the wall adjacent to my bed as I tried to calm myself. I stared down at my hands and marked how badly they shook, stuffing them into my sides. My head lolled against the bottom of the window.
“Are you okay?” a groggy-voiced Bridget asked.
“Huh? Oh, yes, just a,” I swallowed, “a bad dream.”
She looked at me fiercely, a confused expression on her face. “That must have been one horrible dream.”
“It was nothing,” I told her, trying to smile.
I threw my legs over the side of my bed and stood. I needed to get out of that trailer. I needed to get to work. I needed...something.
As I brushed my teeth, I purposely thought of Cricket and her clever smile, trying to distract myself. These dreams were cutting too close. I hated them. I didn’t understand them and I wanted them gone so badly. I spat and rinsed, my hands still trembling, when a knock came to the door. Jonah, I thought, but when I opened it, I was surprised to see Cricket.
“Cricket? Everything okay?” I asked, letting her in.
She stepped inside and immediately I was calmed by her presence.
“Yes, it’s just, we’re seeing too many calves dead in the field.”
“What’s going on?” I asked, tossing on my jacket and hat.
“We’re not sure, but it’s spreading quickly and we’re afraid for the calves yet to be born,” she explained as I followed her out and down the steps.
“How many are dead?” I asked, curious, as we wound our way up the lane.
“Eleven,” she said, her breath billowing out in front of her. She looked nervous, her brows furrowed in concentration. “We’ve tried several different antibiotics so far, but we don’t have the right combination.” She seemed to be talking to herself then. “At first I thought it might be pneumonia and umbilical disease, but the antibiotics used to treat those aren’t affecting them.” She slammed a fist into her hand. “We can’t afford to lose any more.”
“Hey,” I said, touching her shoulder briefly and bringing her back. “We’ll figure it out.”
