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There had been light rain all evening, adding a dreariness to an otherwise fun night. Once they’d finished bowling, boredom had set in. One of the girls—she couldn’t remember who—had suggested they play the chicken game. They’d done it several times before. When it had been her turn she’d been a little nervous. She hadn’t been used to driving in the rain. She didn’t like the way the car skidded sometimes when she put on the brakes. Holly had been in the passenger seat and she’d taken her seat belt off so she could hang out the window and scream her lungs out. With the girls egging her on she’d darted between lanes, zigzagging with the car and careening out of her lane. When she’d hit a curve in the road the car had skidded, and despite her best efforts, she’d crashed into a stone wall. Upon impact she’d hit her head on the steering wheel and blacked out for a few moments. When she came to, Regina was screaming that she couldn’t find Holly while Jenna was still sitting in the backseat, silent and in a dazed state. By the time the ambulance had come she’d scrambled out of the car and found Holly’s body stretched out in the road about twenty feet from the car. The rest of the night had been a blur.
She’d been taken by ambulance to the hospital where she’d been diagnosed with a minor concussion. It was at the hospital that she’d found out Holly’s spinal cord had been severed.
The four roses had promised to take their secret to the grave.
“Cassidy. Are you okay?”
The rich timbre of Tate’s voice brought her back to the present. She shook her head to rid herself of the traumatic memories.
“I’m fine. I should get going though. It’s really coming down out there.” She bit her lip as she watched the rain pour down in sheets.
He gently turned her around so that she was facing him. “There could be downed trees, flooded roads. It’s just too risky to take a chance like that. Once Fiddlesticks delivers her foal I can drive us to the main house. You can stay in one of the guest rooms.”
Cassidy sputtered. “I don’t think Maggie would approve of that plan.” She glanced over at Maggie, who was in the stall kneeling next to her mare. “She hates me.”
Tate’s face held a rueful expression. “She doesn’t hate you. Her bark is much worse than her bite. She’s been holding all that in for eight years.”
“I can’t imagine my mom would’ve reacted any differently.” Cassidy let out a sigh. “I just wonder when people will find it in their hearts to accept me without throwing the pas
t in my face.”
She knew she was feeling sorry for herself, but it wasn’t easy dealing with rejection. Especially from someone like Maggie who she still cared about. Once the Horseshoe Bend Ranch had been her second home, a place where she’d found love and acceptance. Maggie and Frank had adored her. She’d loved them dearly in return. It was painful dealing with the ramifications of the accident and her exodus from town. It was disheartening to know that people might never accept her and forgive her transgressions.
But wasn’t that part of her journey? Making amends wasn’t a trivial thing. It was work, plain and simple. And in the end she might never find redemption. At least she would know she’d tried. She’d be leading with her heart instead of wallowing in fear and regret. She’d be living outside of her comfort zone and taking chances. She hadn’t done that for a very long time.
And perhaps someday when she walked down Main Street she’d receive smiles instead of stares. Until then she would just have to keep laying the foundation for forgiveness, brick by brick.
* * *
By nightfall Fiddlesticks had delivered her foal, and the storm raging through West Falls was in full effect. Cassidy had called her worried parents, informing them that she’d be staying the night at the ranch. Tate’s mother had already headed back up to the house. Tate was thankful for Cassidy’s presence during the difficult foal birth. When Fiddlesticks had been in heavy labor he’d realized one of the foal’s legs had been bent at an odd angle and impeding the delivery. His experience had helped in the process since he knew that he’d have to realign the foal’s positioning in order for her to push the foal out. Once he’d done that, Fiddlesticks had easily delivered her foal.
“He’s gorgeous,” Cassidy cooed, once he’d cleared the foal of the amniotic sac and she was able to get a good look at him.
The foal looked just like his mama. He was the color of midnight. The only difference between the two was the white star on his forehead.
“He’s something isn’t he?” Tate beamed with pride. This newest foal wasn’t just a miracle of nature. He was the living, breathing embodiment of Horseshoe Bend Ranch. Horse breeding was his family’s bread and butter. It would be a legacy handed down to generations of Lynches.
“He sure is,” Cassidy said, her voice filled with admiration. She was making sure to keep a safe distance from Fiddlesticks and her foal. He’d made a point to warn Cassidy about the perils of getting too close to overprotective mares.
“What are you going to name him?” Cassidy asked.
He thought about it for a second. “Why don’t you name him.”
“Seriously?” Her eyes widened in surprise. Her face lit up like pure sunshine.
“Yup. I’ve named dozens of foals. You stuck it out and helped me bring him into the world. And you got stranded here at the ranch in the process. It’s only fitting that you have the honor of naming him.” For Tate, nothing else would have felt right.
She tapped her chin. “Hmmmm...the obvious choice would be to name him something like Coal or Jet because of his dark coloring. And there’s also Midnight or Trigger.”
“You’d never make the obvious choice, would you, Cassidy?” he teased, feeling a lightheartedness he hadn’t felt in years. He wouldn’t have wanted to have shared this instant with anyone other than Cassidy. It felt like one of those moments when everything had aligned perfectly to make it happen. It was serendipity, he supposed.
“Of course not,” she responded playfully. “I’m an artist. We’re very creative people,” she said with a feigned sniff. “We never resort to the obvious.”
Tate laughed at her play acting. “Well then, lay it on me. I can’t wait to hear what you’ve come up with.”
She snapped her fingers, her face animated. “I have a great name. Picasso. In honor of my favorite artist. Something tells me there’s not too many horses running around named Picasso.”
Tate let the name marinate for a minute. Cassidy watched him carefully, her brows furrowed as she waited for his verdict. She began biting her lip. He thought it was adorable that she cared so much about his opinion. It was time to put her out of her misery. He grinned at her as he held two thumbs up. “That’s a great name for him. I’m proud to announce the birth of Picasso. The latest greatest addition to Horseshoe Bend Ranch.”
