Page 59 of Auctioned to the Cowboys

“That’s good,” Jesse says.

Maverick grimaces, which makes me frown. “I took Taylor to Beth’s.”

Jesse pauses, squatting in front of the oven where he’s about to remove our dinner. “What?”

“It’s okay.” Maverick raises both his hands to emphasize. “She did good. Everything’s smoothed over.”

Jesse retrieves our plates, the garlicky aroma filling the room. “Taylor confronted Beth?” His eyebrows are so high that a deep furrow slashes his forehead.

“Yep. She’s some woman.” Peeling the paper from a muffin, Maverick breaks off a chunk and tosses it into his mouth. “She’s full of surprises.”

“She’s gradually getting out from under the shadow of her father,” I say. It’s clear to me because my own shadow is still long and dark. Maverick and Jesse have their own ghosts, too, but they’re smiling more and softening around the edges. Why isn’t it happening in the same way for me?

It was tough coming face to face with the man who had done so much damage to Taylor and her sister. I wanted to crush him like a roach and tear and scatter pieces from him so that he could never reform. Leaving the justice system to process his ass isn’t nearly so satisfying.

“How did you guys get on?” Maverick asks.

“They’re the best recruits we’ve had. They did the work of six men today.”

Jesse is absolutely right. My initial reservations about them, especially Brian, don’t seem founded so far. He had a bad start, but he shaped up quicker than the other two, and it’s one less thing to worry about. It’s hard not to see a little of myself in them.

I notice Maverick’s guitar leaning against the table and a scattering of plectrums. It has been a couple of years, at least, since he last played. Taylor inspires him in more ways than one, and I suppress a twinge of envy at yet another sign of my friends making headway. The pressure suddenly feels too much.

When we’re done with dinner and I can’t bear my t-shirt sticking to me any longer, I head upstairs for a hot shower and to change into fresh jeans and a clean shirt. I’m not quite done for the day.

Downstairs, I find Taylor cleaning up the kitchen and packing away the baked goods she had cooling. Dressed in a black tank and a pair of boy shorts, she makes me thirsty and hungry in a way no woman has before. But it’s more than that. I want to wrap my arms around her and just hold her in the safety of my embrace. Dangerous thoughts. “Hey,” she says when she sees me.

“Sadie’s ready,” I tell her.

Her eyes widen and her smile lights up her whole face. I swear she gets prettier with every day that passes. Good food and safety will do that to a person. “Are you serious?” She wipes her hands with a cloth. “Can I come with you?”

“Of course.”

As though she can’t wait a moment longer, she shoves her feet into her old sneakers and follows me outside. The air has a chill, but it’s bearable. Taylor sticks close to me, and against all my better judgment, I take her hand in mine, leading her through the darkness.

The barn is warm inside, and the straw-filled interior smells sweet and musky. Sadie’s resting, but her eyes are wide when she sees us. She scrambles to her feet but seems eager rather than scared.

“There you are,” Taylor says, reaching out a hand. Sadie lets her stroke her nose, making a funny huffing noise through her wide nostrils.

“It’s time to let you go,” I say, lifting the latch on the stall.

“You’ll see your babies,” Taylor says lightly.

I open the gate wide, and Sadie looks at the gap suspiciously. Taylor begins to walk towards the exit, encouraging Sadie to follow. It takes a minute for her to respond, taking tentative steps until she gathers confidence, then, with the prospect of freedom beckoning, she makes longer strides. In the doorway, Taylor pauses and lowers into a squat, watching Sadie get closer. “Come on, girl,” she says. “It’s time to run free. You’re all better now. You’re safe. Go find your babies.”

Sadie lowers her head, turning to find me waiting behind her. She lingers as though she wants to tell me something, her wide eyes searching mine, and then she huffs again and makes her escape.

When Taylor stands, she folds her arms across her chest and shakes her head. “That was a special moment.”

It really was. Every time I save a life and set it free, I feel a moment of freedom myself until the memories crawl back in.

“You did good, Clint.” Taylor moves closer, resting her hand on my arm. I look away because letting her see the war inside me is like ants crawling across my skin.

“We should go back.”

She follows me as I stride back to the house.

Even though I’m dog-tired, I can’t sleep. Sadie’s big eyes are in my head. The smell of tar, washer fluid, and oil is in my nose. Dread hangs like the blackest of storm clouds, ready to rain down on me.

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