Cut and Run

by Amy Elizabeth

  “I like your accent,” she confessed. “Where are you from?”

  “I’m a Texas boy. Grew up in San Antonio. But most of my family lives here now.” He grinned at her. “You’ve got a pretty thick accent yourself, Rebecca. Luckily I’ve hung around your brother long enough to understand it.”

  She giggled. “So how do you guys know each other?”

  “His sister teaches history at the high school,” Jeff replied. “We all went camping in Yellowstone last summer.”

  “Are you a teacher, too?” she asked Tommy.

  He chuckled. “Not exactly. I’m a wrangler.”

  Rebecca nearly choked on her soda, and Jeff burst out laughing. “I should’ve warned you, Tommy. My sister has a slight obsession with horses. She’ll probably want to pick your brains.”

  Tommy’s face lit up. “You like horses?”

  She nodded and cleared her throat. What were the chances that the first person she met was a real, authentic wrangler?

  “That’s an understatement.”

  “Well, you should come with me tomorrow, then. I bounce around between a couple different ranches, depending on the season, but I spend my summers at the Flying W, right out near the Idaho border. They might even be looking to hire someone else for the summer, last I heard. Do you ride?”

  “Of course I ride.”

  “I’ll introduce you to my Quarter horse, Joaquin. Big solid buckskin, sixteen hands, real easy mover. Awesome cutting horse.”

  Jeff looked bewildered by the equine lingo, but it was music to Rebecca’s ears. “I would love to,” she answered, unable to believe her luck. She’d barely been in Jackson for an hour, and already she had a solid connection to a ranch.

  After Tommy left, Rebecca punched her brother’s arm. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me one of your friends was a wrangler!”

  He chuckled as he cleared the table. “I figured it’d be a nice surprise. And Tommy’s a great guy–the two of you will get along really well.”

  She raised a brow. “Are you trying to set us up?”

  “No.” He paused beside the counter and glanced back at her. “Should I be?”

  Rebecca had almost forgotten her brother’s ability to see right through her. She rose from the table and wandered over to the couch, mentally preparing herself for what she needed to tell him.

  “Actually, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “You and Sean?”

  She nodded.

  “Did you guys break up?”

  “Um…sort of.”

  He set the dishes in the sink and strode across the living room, taking a seat beside her. “What happened, sis? Whatever it is, you know you can tell me.”

  “I know. But you’re not going to like what you hear.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Did he hurt you?”

  Rebecca hesitated. She and Jeff shared the same explosive Sheehan temperament. Telling him the whole truth would send him into orbit, and she knew it. The answer must have been written on her face, though, because he sat up straighter and looked her dead in the eye.

  “Jesus, Rebecca, if he laid one finger on you–”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, shifting in her seat. “It’s not important.”

  Jeff leapt to his feet. “It’s not important?”

  She watched in confusion as he stormed over to his laptop. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” he snapped, rapidly punching the keyboard. “I’m buying a damn plane ticket so I can show him what happens when he messes with my sister.”

  Apparently five years away from Southie had done nothing to cool his temper.

  “Jeff,” she said calmly. “Stop for a second and listen to me.”

  He paused in his mad typing and turned his head. “I’m listening.”

  “First of all, it’s not what you think. And even if you went back home, it won’t change anything. There’s nothing you can do now.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She took a breath to steady herself. “He’s dead.”

  For a long moment, her brother didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. The color slowly drained from his face as he stared back at her in horror.

  “He’s what?”

  “Sean is dead, Jeff,” she echoed, her voice barely a whisper. “I’m the one who found him.”

  Chapter 2

  Now that she’d said the words aloud, Rebecca waited for a swell of sorrow or guilt. Strangely, she felt nothing at all. Then again, it had only happened yesterday. Maybe she was still in shock.

  “He didn’t show up for my graduation. And I hadn’t seen him for a week before that. So when the ceremony was over, I went to his place. I knew as soon as I opened the door that something was wrong. It was so quiet. Too quiet.” She shuddered as she recalled the stench that hit her nostrils. “It was bad, Jeff. I found him on the floor beside the bed. He’d probably been dead for days. He…”

  Her voice trailed off when she noticed his queasy expression. “He what?”

  “Are you sure you want to hear this?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Jeff sat frozen in place as she relayed the events like a news anchor reporting a neighborhood crime. The expression on his face changed from rage to shock to disbelief, all in a matter of seconds. By the time she finished, he was visibly stunned. He rose from his desk and made a slow circle around the living room, finally collapsing beside her on the couch.

  “How long has this been going on?” he asked.

  “For about a year. Since he lost his job at the stock yard.”

  “Was he dealing, too?”

  “Yeah. Jimmy got him into it.”

  “Jimmy O’Neal?” When she nodded, he dropped his head in his hands. “I always hated that kid.”

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better, he’s doing two years at South Bay for armed robbery.”

  Her brother looked pained. “I’ve been away from all of it for so long, I’d almost forgotten what it’s like.” He met her gaze again. “Will you go back for the funeral?”

  “I doubt he’ll get one. I don’t know who would come.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder, thinking of Sean’s transformation from the person who protected her to the person who frightened her most. He was good to her in the beginning–better than most of her friends’ boyfriends, at any rate. Sure, he drank and smoked pot and got rowdy on the weekends, but so did everyone else in Southie, so she didn’t think much of it. He was the one she ran to when things got rough at home, a fill-in for the void Jeff left behind. When Sean started dealing, though, he ran with a progressively rougher crowd and, in turn, became progressively rougher with her.

  “I think he was actually going insane by the end,” she said quietly. “The drugs were making him crazy. Every time I tried to break things off, he threatened to kill me or himself.”

  Jeff gave her shoulders a squeeze. “Thank God he didn’t choose you.”

  *

  Rebecca awoke at five the next morning, not quite adjusted to the time change. Her brother was still asleep–she could hear him snoring in the other room–so she tiptoed into the living room and pulled her phone out of her purse. She didn’t want to call home, but she knew she owed her mother that much. When she saw that her cell phone had no service, she reached for Jeff’s phone instead.

  Susan answered on the second ring, her voice slurred. “Rebecca?”

  Her temples throbbed instantly. It was only seven in the morning back east, and her mother was already hitting the bottle–or was still drunk from the night before.

  “It’s me.”

  “Where’re you? Karl and I’ve been worried sick.”

  Just the mention of her stepfather’s name sent a shudder down her spine. Karl Finnegan was a controlling, vice-ridden sociopath–and those were his good qualities.

  “Yeah, I bet he was,” she said sourly. “It doesn’t matter where I am, okay? I just
wanted you to know that I’m safe.”

  “Are y’with your brother? Where’s he again…Wisconsin?”

  Anger bubbled up in her throat. “Yeah, Mom. He’s in Wisconsin.”

  She hung up the phone without saying goodbye. Part of her felt heartless for abandoning her mother to Karl’s fits of rage, but the other part of her was furious with Susan for bringing him into their lives in the first place. At the end of the day, he was her mother’s problem, not hers. The way she saw it, after three years of enduring her stepfather’s malice, she’d more than earned her wings to leave the nest. Whether Rebecca chose to study at Boston University, become a wrangler in Wyoming, or a Sherpa in Tibet, the fact remained the same–no one was going to push her around or tell her what to do anymore.

  “You’re up early.”

  The sound of her brother’s voice jolted her back to the present. “Sorry,” she said, spinning the stool to face him. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Jeff yawned and ran a hand through his hair. “Don’t worry about it,” he replied, glancing at the phone. “Did you tell Mom you’re here?”

  “Not exactly. She thinks you live in Wisconsin.”

  A troubled look crossed his face. “I was thinking, sis…even though you’re out of high school, you’re still a minor. What if Karl gets it in his head to come after you? Would he do it?”

  Rebecca had been wondering the same thing, but she forced the thought away. “I think Karl has plenty of other things to worry about than his absent stepdaughter,” she replied. “Besides, my birthday’s in August. Once I’m eighteen, there’s not a thing they can do.”

  Jeff grunted as he measured out a scoop of coffee. “Let’s hope.”

  She rose from her stool and pulled two mugs from the cabinet. “Can we make a new rule?”

  “What’s that?”

  “I didn’t come out here to complain about home. I came out here to spend time with you. So how about we drop the subject, at least for a while? Is that okay?”

  “Of course,” he said, sending her a half-hearted grin. “Tell me some happy news, then. Did you hear about your scholarship yet?”

  Rebecca beamed. “I got it. Full ride for four years.”

  “That’s unbelievable, sis. Especially considering what you were going through. I am so proud of you.”

  “Thanks. It was a lot of hard work, and it didn’t feel like it was ever going to happen.”

  “Nah, I knew you’d get it,” he said, sending her a sideways grin. “You still want to study psychology?”

  “Yeah. Now more than ever.”

  They took their coffee to the couch and sipped in companionable silence before her brother spoke again. “I’m glad you’re going with Tommy to the ranch, but don’t feel like you have to get a job. It doesn’t make a bit of difference to me if you work or not. You can just chill out and enjoy the change of scenery if you want.”

  She shook her head. “I need to get my mind off everything back home. And working on a ranch is what I was hoping to do this summer, anyway, so this seems like the perfect opportunity.”

  “But what happens when they ask you to ride? You’ve still never been on a horse, have you?”

  “I’ll learn fast. I might not even get the job, you know. Maybe Tommy was just being nice.”

  “Nah. People are pretty easy to read out here. If he didn’t think you could get the job, he wouldn’t have offered.”

  “Well, he doesn’t exactly know I don’t have any experience.”

  Jeff shrugged and propped his feet on the coffee table. “If this is something you want to do, then go for it. It’s about time you got your chance.”

  *

  At eight-thirty on the dot, a horn honked outside. Rebecca said goodbye to Jeff and galloped down the stairs, pausing to take in her surroundings. The morning air was surprisingly brisk for the middle of May–she could see her breath each time she exhaled. She scanned the parking lot and smiled when she spotted Tommy waiting for her in the guest parking space. He was the quintessential portrait of a cowboy, leaning back against the bed of his pick-up truck in fitted Wranglers and a white Stetson.

  He is pretty cute, she couldn’t help but think. In a country-western kind of way.

  He gave a friendly grin as she approached. “Mornin’.”

  “Good morning,” she replied, stifling a laugh when he opened the passenger’s side door.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I’ve never had a guy hold a door open for me.”

  Tommy raised his brows. “Well, it appears you’ve been sorely mistreated, then. A gentleman always holds the door open for a lady.”

  Rebecca flinched and turned her face to the window as he slid into the driver’s seat. She had been sorely mistreated–not that Tommy could have known that, of course.

  “So I’ll warn you now,” he said as he pulled onto the main road, “the owner of the ranch can kinda be a jerk at first. His father had a bad fall a few years back and now he’s a quadriplegic. From what I hear, he’s not doing too well. Alec is probably me and your brother’s age, but he’s in charge of the whole business now, and it takes a toll on him. So if he seems a little rough, don’t let it intimidate you. He’s not that bad once you get to know him.”

  She shifted in her seat, suddenly wondering if this was such a good idea.

  “The head wrangler is Roger,” Tommy continued, oblivious to her discomfort. “He pretty much manages the place, and he’s the real deal, let me tell ya–been around for ages. But he’s real down-to-earth. You’ll like him right away. Kevin, Alli, and Tina are the other wranglers. We’ve all been working summers at the ranch since we were eighteen, and everyone’s pretty laid-back. Alec’s the only one that needs to loosen up.”

  Rebecca wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans. What in the world was she getting herself into?

  “So what kind of riding did you do back east?” he asked.

  Yep, it’s official. I’m out of my mind.

  “Mostly dressage and English equitation,” she said, wondering how long she’d be able to keep up the act.

  “Nice. I’m afraid you’re not gonna find any English saddles at the Flying W, though. And you might have to trade your breeches for a pair of Wranglers.”

  At that, she laughed. Tommy seemed like a trustworthy guy. She had a feeling that he’d be willing to help her out if it became obvious that she had no experience with horses.

  Garth Brooks played in the background as they drove for half an hour down a two-lane road. Snow-capped mountains and lupine-filled meadows spread out as far as the eye could see, dotted with the occasional herd of cattle. She’d never seen so much wide-open space. Tommy turned onto a bumpy dirt road and passed beneath a large arched sign that read Flying W Ranch. Rebecca was awestruck when they passed a pasture filled with Paints and Appaloosas, swishing their tails as they grazed in the lush grass.

  “They’ve got about fifty horses, maybe nine-hundred head of cattle. It’s a pretty big operation.” He pulled his truck into the dirt parking lot and turned off the engine. “By the way,” he added, reaching behind his seat, “consider this your welcome present.”

  Butterflies swarmed in her stomach when he handed her a black cowboy hat. “Are you trying to tell me something?” she asked, regretfully removing her Red Sox cap. She placed the hat on her head and looked in the mirror, barely stifling a giggle. She felt ridiculous, but then again–she was on a ranch. She might as well dress the part.

  Tommy walked around his truck and once again opened her door for her. She thanked him as she stepped out and turned to the large corral in front of them, where three men on stocky Quarter horses were cutting through a herd of cattle.

  “Wanna watch for a minute?” he asked.

  Rebecca nodded and leaned her arms against the railing. “Move out!” one of the riders called to the other two, cantering his black horse around the perimeter of the corral.

  The other riders retreated out of the gate, leaving the solo b
lack horse with the herd. “That’s Onyx,” Tommy whispered. “They just shipped him over from Oklahoma. Paid a fortune for him, I’m sure. Seven years old, pure Appendix Quarter horse, incredible bloodlines. They’re gonna use him as a stud.”

  She was transfixed as she watched the nimble black horse cut through the cattle, his muscles rippling under his shimmering coat. Reading about the sport in magazines didn’t begin to do it justice. The rider sat motionless, flawlessly moving with his horse as he slid to a stop, spun around, galloped off, and stopped again. Onyx isolated one brown calf from the herd and stood as still as a statue, staring with intelligent eyes at the tiny creature. The calf stared right back, its pink nostrils flaring, before it made a quick hop to the left. The horse anticipated the move and spun on its haunches, galloping through the thick dirt to block the calf from rejoining the herd. Then the calf slid to a stop, and so did Onyx, and the animals once again locked gazes. Rebecca’s mouth dropped open as the horse isolated one calf after the next, without any apparent direction from his rider.

  Several minutes later, the rider pulled Onyx to a stop and gave him a well-earned pat on the neck. “That’s it for now,” he said to the other wranglers, watching as they moved the cattle out of the corral.

  He finally noticed Tommy and Rebecca at the far end of the corral and turned his horse in their direction. Rebecca was so focused on Onyx’s graceful strides and arched neck that she didn’t give his rider a second look. It wasn’t until he pulled the horse to a stop that she noticed his piercing gray eyes under the brim of his Stetson.

  “You’re back early, Tommy. Wasn’t expecting you ‘til tomorrow.”

  Tommy reached up and shook his hand. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Rebecca Sheehan. Rebecca, this is Alec Westin.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. Somehow, she had not expected him to be the owner of the ranch.

  “Hi,” she said, politely extending her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Alec replied curtly. “Where are you from, New York?”