by CJ Daly
hand. “And I’m not above breaking the rules from time to time,” he finished with one of those looks that made me squirm.
I wish I could say I was strong enough to snatch my hand back before I
could start feeling attached again. But the sad truth was—I was more like
holding on for dear life.
After unloading the feed, Pete reloaded the truck with wriggling boys, who
cheerfully ganged up on me about my driving so he could take over. While the
boys and Blue bounced around in the back like bottles of soda ready to pop,
• 306 •
Pete took advantage of their absence by slipping an arm around my shoulder.
He was still going on about “woman drivers,” and I was trying hard not to
laugh at his jokes. After a particularly un-PC punchline, I elbowed him in
the ribcage, and he gave me a boyish grin. Again, I had the strongest feeling
that he was having as much fun as me.
When we got back, we were running a little behind schedule because of all
the extra horsing around, but it was worth it to see the shiny happy reflected
on our faces. I sent the boys in to wash up and get started on their homework.
Pete stayed behind to help wash out the bottles and put them back in their
crates to dry and sanitize in the baking sun.
We’d just finished the job, when he said, “That was a lot of fun. Thanks
for letting me ride along to help.”
“Thanks for actually bein’ of help—the boys can sometimes be more
trouble than they’re worth,” I said with no small amount of affection.
“You’re something else, Kate Connelly.” Pete’s gaze on my face was so soft
it felt like a lover’s caress.
Something stirred in my chest. “It’s funny . . . I was just thinkin’ the same
thing about you earlier on.”
He arched a brow. “Do tell.”
My little confession had turned my face pig-snout pink, so I busied myself
scooping gold nuggets of grain with a cut-off plastic milk jug. He countered
by drawing me to him, by the sway of my back.
“I guess great minds think alike,” he murmured into my ear, causing my
spine to do a little shimmy.
“Um . . . I gotta get back to work,” I said, backing away from his force
field.“You mean there’s more?”
“Uh—yeah.” I swiped a hand through my hair. “So I better drive you
home now, so I can get back and finish before dark.” I started to go when he
caught my hand.
“Hey, I said I wanted to help you work this afternoon, so I’ll stay until
it’s finished.”
I eyed our clasped hands. “I believe you only mentioned somethin’ about
workin’ out, which you’ve accomplished. And I have to get you back in case
my father surprises us with an early return and catches me here with a . . .”
Boy wouldn’t work, and guy seemed too generic for him. I struggled to find
the correct word. “Male friend,” I finished, making us sound salacious.
“Maybe we can finish before he gets back?” I shook my head, an
unconscious sigh escaping. Pete looked at me sharply. “What else is left to do?”
• 307 •
I was absent-minded with worry about the prospect of Daddy arriving any moment so I didn’t pick up on his mood change right away.
“Kate?” He squeezed my hand when I didn’t answer.
“Hmmm?”
He made sure to make eye contact with me. “How much more do you
have to do?”
“ Just, um, yunno, get dinner on the table, kids in bed, cleanin’ up.”
Suddenly seeing where this was going, I puffed out some air. “A few more
chores . . .”
“More chores?” He searched my face while I looked off in the distance.
“Kate, I swear to God!”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“Then tell me! All of it. And I mean everything,” he said, shaking me a little out of my silence.
“Just a few more things,” I dismissed. “It’s no big deal—all part of the
package when you have a ranch. Usually Daddy helps out a little with hay
bales and pasture stuff but lately he’s, um, been . . .” I kind of petered out
when I saw Pete’s face go rigid. I shrugged my shoulders. What could I say?
“When do you get your homework done?”
“I used to do it after the boys were in bed. Now I do it while the water
tank fills. The uh . . . tank is broken. Actually, there’s somethin’ stuck inside,
I think, so it’s been tricklin’ out real slow.” I quit jabbering, realizing I’d said too much .
“Does your father have a job outside the home I don’t know about?” I
shook my head back and forth, watching his face change colors. “Then why
the hell isn’t he out here helping out!” he exploded.
“Um, he sorta has a bum leg.”
He snorted. “Bum is about right.”
“Hey, listen.” I grabbed his arm. “I prefer him not to be around most of
the time, anyway.”
Pete ignored my last statement to grill me. “Where’s he supposed to be?”
“Buyin’ feed?” I tried.
“Buying feed,” he repeated. “All this time? That’s his excuse?”
“Well, usually it’s . . .”—I lowered my voice to my father’s decibel—“‘I’m
busy runnin’ a household.’”
“Right. Tell that one to the cows . . . I think we all know who’s running
this household,” he muttered before averting his face to stare out at the fiery
horizon. I watched as the sun framed his silhouette in its lazy glow.
• 308 •
“Well, I guess now you can see what I meant when I said ‘my day is a workout,’” I joked.
“Kate, please . . . don’t make light of this.” Pete seized me by the shoulders,
his eyes pleading with mine. “I didn’t know”—he gestured around—“any of
this . . . I was never apprised of your situation.”
I thought the way he said that sounded funny. Why would he be?
He released me to pace around like a caged lion. “I mean I knew you
had chores to do—dinner, housework, laundry that included a washer and a
drier. You know . . . inside lady stuff,” he ventured, and I slanted him a look.
“But I never realized that a teenage girl was doing the back-breaking labor of running a ranch inside and out, with the aid of an eight and four-year-old!”
I just stood there red-faced and tight-lipped, feeling exposed and regretful
that I’d aired our dirty laundry. And stung by the way he referred to me.
“And then to top it all off, you head out to waitress on the weekends!”
He threw this out, with his arms, before whirling around as though unable
to face me and my sorry situation another second. It was kinda fascinating to
watch him unravel over something as trivial as my pathetic life.
“Pete, it’s alright.” I tugged his arm loose from his side and tried to
shake out his tension. “It’s not that bad—really. The boys help me, and we
get to hang out together. I usually don’t have much to do with the cattle in
the pasture. It’s only been lately that Daddy’s been so-so . . .” I sighed, not
knowing how to phrase it without it sounding bad, “MIA,” I finished.
Pete looked pained, his eyes slipping away from mine. He smeared his
hands over his face and through his hair. Made a snarling noise. “Please don�
�t
make excuses for him—I really don’t think I could take it.”
“It’s really not such a bad life.” I tried to turn both him and the situation
around. “At least we get to eat donuts every once-in-a-while.” I nudged him
in the side, trying to force a smile.
Pete shook his head, gazing down on me with the soulful eyes of someone
trying to communicate something of vital importance. A hug came crashing
into me, and we stood like that, absorbing each other’s comfort and strength.
Somehow, our relationship seemed to be symbiotic—he inexplicably seemed
to need me as much as I needed him. I peered up at him with newfound
appreciation.
“What’s that look for?” he wondered.
I just smiled enigmatically until he bent and kissed me—one swift,
bruising kiss on the lips. After which, he visibly brightened.
“You know what, Country Kate? Your life is about to change . . . for the
• 309 •
better!” he declared before snatching Daddy’s old Stetson off a hook in the shed and plopping it on my head.
“Oh really?” I scoffed. “Don’t tell me you and Drews figured out the
winnin’ lottery numbers durin’ all those mentorin’ sessions?”
“Nope,” he popped at me playfully. “Nothing that dramatic. But you just
wait and see—I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”
I forced a laugh and removed the dusty hat from my head, feeling miffed
by where this was going. I was already trying hard not to feel like a rescue
puppy when he reached out and ruffled my hair.
“We’re gonna make some changes ‘round here.” His sincere words were
all drawled out in humor, so I didn’t have the heart to tell him he was
overstepping his boundaries.
“Fine. You get right on that. Meanwhile, I’ve got a ranch to run, so I have
to drive you back now, cowboy.” I set the Stetson on his head and stepped back
to admire the effect. Sigh. Of course he looked hotter than a Ralph Lauren model, a country superstar, and the Marlboro Man all put together.
I turned to go when he caught my hand and held it over his heart. I could
feel it beating there under my hand, steady and sure.
“I mean it, Kate—I want to help you. Nobody should have to bear the
burdens you do at seventeen.”
Words that had me feeling more like a charity case than a girlfriend. Was
he here because he felt sorry for me? He’d said that, not once, but twice before.
Am I so pathetic that pity is the only emotion I can elicit from him? My stomach twisted. I didn’t want his charity. Or his pity. I yanked back my hand.
“If you really wanna help me, don’t try and take my ranch hand away!” I
snarled then spun around to stalk off.
“Kate, listen to me, you stubborn girl.” Pete caught me by the shoulders.
“You need help. Your family—”
I whirled back around. “Was doin’ fine before you got here! So just stay
out of our lives! Go back to where you came from . . . and we’ll be just fine
when you leave.” My voice hitched at the end, giving me away.
Pete withdrew his hands from my shoulders, stuffed them into his pockets.
A long moment passed where he scrutinized my face, and I set my jaw against
him. He started to say something then stopped to remove the Stetson from
his head. Running his hands along the rim, he looked me in the eye. “You
real y want me to leave you alone? Just disappear like I’ve never been here, so you can go back to the way things were?”
Big, shaky breath in, I nodded my head. I couldn’t speak around the lump
lodged in my throat.
• 310 •
He barked out a humorless laugh. “Because I gotta tell you the truth, Kate—things didn’t look like they were really working out too well for you
before.”
I raised my chin a fraction higher. “I was fine.”
“Don’t kid yourself—you were right on the verge of drowning when I
showed up.”
My eyes glistened with unshed tears. I had that déjà vu feeling, like we
were back in the western, engaged in a duel—Pete with his Stetson , me with my boots, our weapons, once again, angry words lashing out to hit the other
where it hurt most.
“What are you my lifeguard now?” I sneered.
“You need help, Kate. Admit it . . . if not for yourself, then for your
brothers.”
“Oh, so now it’s about helping my brothers is it? You really had me goin’
there for a while Pete, the-Elite-Cadet, our whole family’s savior.” My arms
flapped wildly about. “Fix all our woes by snatchin’ up my little brother and
leavin’ behind a big ole fat check to assuage your guilty conscious. You almost
had me convinced you real y cared.”
Hurt instantly muddled the shine in his eyes. “I do care and think you
should let me help you.”
“That’s rich!” I cackled. “Pardon the pun. Y ou helping me?—you can’t even help yourself!” I lifted my palm. “Look at you! Your life is so golden,
is it?—with your pedigree, gourmet foods, shiny Hummer.” I used my most
mocking tone. “If your life is so great then why are you always stalking me?
Huh? Don’t you have better things to do than hang around with a seventeen-
year-old girl ?” I flung his words back at him, because he was always bringing up my age like he was my big brother or something. “Don’t tell me—it’s lonely
at the top after all?”
Pete was frozen, like in shock that I’d turned on him. Didn’t care; I
wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt me.
“No,” I shook my head, “I don’t think it’s nearly as great as you make it
out to be. As a matter of fact,” I bludgeoned on, sensing the truth as I said it,
“I think you’re more than just a little bit lonely and desperate. So desperate
for somethin’ real—maybe for a real brother of your own—that you’re willin’
to steal mine!”
I saw that my zinger hit the bulls-eye, because he actually staggered
backward, as if from a blow. I felt bad right away, like the arrow had pierced
me instead, oozing out crimson anger instead of blood. But it was too late—
his eyes had already gone flinty on me.
• 311 •
“Well, I’m sorry that’s how you feel, Kate,” he said coldly. “But I’m here to do a job . . . and that’s exactly what I’m going to do from now on.”
A few tears escaped to run down my face, but there was no softness left
in his eyes when he looked at me.
“Think it’s time to leave the Ponderosa now.” He flung the Stetson back
into the shed, where it landed on some Tillman Mills feedbags. He turned
to go.I made a desperate grab. “Pete, I—”
He shrugged me off roughly, sending shock waves of despair all the way
to the soles of my boots. I never wanted to feel that powerful anger towards
me again, but here it was, scorching in its intensity. I forgot how mercurial
he could be—going from Death Valley to Absolute Zero in two seconds flat.
Pete was beating a hasty retreat, kicking up little arcs of dirt, when he
did an abrupt about-face. I looked up expectantly for a truce, was quickly
disappointed. “I can do one thing for you, Kate . . .” His voice was rigid as his face. “I will no longer stalk or hang around with you.”
“That’s
two things!” I screeched with the requisite number of fingers.
I didn’t ask him to come home with me today! Didn’t ask him to try and
save me—as if I needed his help! He was trying to turn the tables on me by
playing the victim, but I remembered how he’d lied and manipulated me,
how he was still doing it.
“Why don’t you add, talk to me while you’re at it!” I flung at his retreating back.He spun back around like I’d pegged him with a dirt clod. “Be careful
what you wish for, Kate.” He repeated my earlier words.
“Oh . . . I always do.” I did the same.
Pete searched my eyes one last time for the hidden truth I kept buried.
“Fine . . . have it your way—I’m out.” He sounded and looked defeated.
“You’re on your own.” Turning his back on me, he slammed through the door.
Aren’t I always?
• 312 •
28
BROKEN SILENCE
Be careful what you wish for, cause you just might get it. These words
echoed in my mind as I trudged along to gym with the other sanguine
pedestrians on a Thursday afternoon. Pete had stayed true to his
word—he didn’t even so much as glance my way the few times I saw him
across campus. Or entering and exiting Spanish. Or out on the athletic field.
I saw him now, strolling along the sidewalk like the Pied Piper, with a
string of followers in his wake hanging on his every word. His jovial mood
seemed out of place with the one going on with me. I’m not sure what I
thought: We were two halves of a whole? If I was miserable then he should
be miserable in equal proportion like disjoined twins? Well, obviously, that
was not the case here.
My mouth twisted bitterly as I tried to pay attention to whatever inane,
one-sided conversation Miguel was having with me: something, something
football, something, something homecoming. I couldn’t be bothered to keep
up, although I tried to be unobvious about it, smiling and bobbing my head
like a dummy at appropriate times. And I seemed to be so tired lately, not
really falling asleep until well into morning.
P.E. wasn’t an improvement. Pete continued to withhold his gaze from
me—even when we were within striking distance from one another, even
when we were on the same team, and even after a particularly hard-fought
