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“But you wish I was.”
“Do you want me to lie, Ronnie? I took you because you look like her. You know that. I’m sorry I lost control last night and that I scared you. I heard part of what you said to Will.” He nodded over to the open window. “I was standing on the patio, and the voices carry out that window. I’m not crazy. I know who I am. I know who you are. And you and me aren’t finished. It’s going to happen, princess. I’ll do damage control with Will. You make breakfast.”
There went her only shot at help. Because if he talked to Will, he’d probably talk to Jake and Robert, too. By the end of the day, she’d look like the crazy one.
* * *
After lunch,when the garden had been checked on, the chickens had been fed, and most of the household chores were done, Veronica wandered to the end of the yard where the grass ended. From there, dirt stretched out with barns and pens until the ground turned to green again at the start of pasture.
She liked to think she would have protested more loudly about the work she wasn’t being paid for in any other circumstance, but she’d seen off in the distance that the men worked harder than she did. Of course, they were being paid. Luke had made it clear he’d take care of all her needs. It grated that she didn’t have her own money, but what was she going to do with it? Get into more debt? She wanted to believe she’d learned to be more responsible, but her recent cutbacks had been out of sheer survival necessity and the fear of going hungry.
And if she started spending money with her name attached to it, the creditors would line up at the door. She’d started to see herself as part slave, part fugitive, and the fugitive part made her wary about demanding her rights to a paycheck that debt collectors would just swoop in and take. Luke was right. Paid or unpaid, with so much debt, she was a slave, and there didn’t seem to be an exit ramp in sight.
The work made the time go by faster, and it wasn’t as if any of the men stood over her with a bull whip. Even if they’d wanted to, they didn’t have time. Ranch life was hard. In the end, she had the easier end of things even without being a natural at gardening.Luke had given her a list of things to check for on the leaves.
Veronica was starting to suspect that people without green thumbs lacked knowledge, not magic. Gardening was something of a crapshoot and something of a science. The more you knew, the less gambling there was. But an outsider wouldn’t know that. They’d put something in the ground, it would die, and they would assume they just didn’t have the magic touch.
She stared at the sharp division between thick, green grass and dirt. She hadn’t ventured this far before without shoes. Even the idea of walking in grass without shoes had seemed like a treacherous activity only a few days ago. Who knew what bacteria and parasites were in the ground? She took a few steps onto the warm dirt and then continued on, wondering if she was allowed out this far.
From a barn a few yards away, Veronica could hear a cow making a horrible, distressed sound.
“Hold him!” Luke shouted.
She raced to the barn door to see what was going on. A young steer was being held down while Robert clipped part of his coat away on his hip, then Luke raised a hot branding iron and seared its hide. Smoke and the smell of burnt flesh filled the air.
“No!” She couldn’t help the protest. Luke pulled the branding iron away and gave her a look that made her fear she’d be next.
Veronica turned and ran back toward the house, trying to erase from her mind what she’d just seen. He’d taken that thing to Trish and marked her like common cattle. He’d never hurt her? The scarred flesh on Trish’s hip from the brand he’d given her was proof to the contrary.
“Ronnie, stop!”
Luke’s footsteps pounded behind her, but she kept running. Finally he overtook her, and she was in the grass, panting and struggling to get away from him. His gloved hands held her in place. “Stop it!” he shouted.
She was crying so hard it was difficult to form words. “People use ear tags now. You don’t have to brand them. Do you know how cruel that is?”
He moved off her and let her sit up while he picked stray bits of grass out of her hair and off her dress. “You sound like one of those PETA people, or the lawmakers trying to phase out branding. That’s their endgame, you know. I forget you’re from the city and think food comes from the grocery store.”
“Itshouldbe phased out. I’m not the one with the problem, here!” She couldn’t stop seeing the calf struggling while Robert held him down and then the cry of pain when the hot iron hit its mark.
“It doesn’t hurt them as much as you think. That cry is more from fear and shock than pain.”
“How would you know? Are you a cow whisperer?”
“I’ve branded hundreds of cows. And I’ve branded a human. The danger comes in getting it too hot so it damages the tissues under the skin, or in not getting it hot enough to kill the nerve endings. Then it hurts for a long time. But like I said, I’m a pro at this. I’ve got a professional branding heater that regulates the temperature out there. I know what I’m doing. It doesn’t hurt them. And it didn’t hurt Trish.”
Veronica thought she might be sick at the casual way he spoke of pressing a hot iron to the flesh of the woman he supposedly loved, to say nothing of all the poor cattle. If he’d loved Trish, and Veronica was a dim replacement, what hope of safety did she have with him?
“I don’t brand them for the purpose of hurting them,” he said. “It protects them from theft and getting lost. They wander a lot when they graze. Sometimes my cattle get mixed in with other people’s cattle. They cost too much to lose like that. This is my livelihood, Ronnie. This ranch has been in my family for four generations. That’s been our cattle brand for the same time period.”
“Tags,” Veronica said, still not willing to let it go.
“Tags come off. Sometimes the cows do it; sometimes hustlers do it. Brands are permanent.”
At least in his own mind, he seemed to think his actions were justified, but the idea of him doing that to a human being when he had no practical rationalizations, made her feel like she was suffocating in a small cramped place, even though they were out under the open sky with plenty of air.
“What about Trish? There’s no justification for making her...”
“She asked for the brand.”
