Page 20 of Bucked By Love

I whip around. One of the ranch hands stands here. She’s holding the reigns of a horse—one very alive Calypso.

My panic breaks like a fever. I rush to Calypso, fling my arms around her, and bury my face into her soft neck. “I’m sorry,” I say, my words rushing out between sobs. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

15

CLAIRE

Claire’s diary, July 18, 2015.

I’m not convinced Calypso is safe from Daddy’s wrath.

I stayed in the stables last night. The floor was hard and uncomfortable and the stiff straw kept stabbing me. But when Calypso laid down, I made her my pillow. I rested my head on her belly and listened to the rise and fall of each breath.

I couldn’t sleep all night. I closed my eyes and drifted in and out. Eventually, I heard the barn doors jangle open. I listened to the heavy footsteps approaching and opened my eyes. The soft glow of the lantern got brighter and brighter before finally stopping at Calypso’s pen.

Daddy crouched down to meet me at my level. His mouth was a thin line under his mustache.

“I won’t go to the river,” I told him. I could barely recognize my own voice. It was hoarse and raspy from crying. “Never again. I promise.”

Those dark eyes never moved. But Daddy stood up, taking the lantern with him. He’s made a decision. A decision to forgive me.

It will hurt not to see Ransom. It will hurt to give up my little sanctuary by the river.

But I have to do it.

I will keep my promise.

I always keep my promises.

16

RANSOM

Claire’s gone. All her little friends, too.

The river? The bridge? Abandoned. Done and dusted.

I don’t see her or any of her flock of Promise Sisters anywhere.

Until the day I’m driving down Main Street and I spy Elsbeth at the ice cream parlor. I whip the truck around, park it, and go to meet her. She’s so deep into her cone, she doesn’t see me when I come up behind her, resting my forearms on the back of her bench.

“Hey. You seen Claire?”

She squeaks and jumps. She starts to hide the cone, but then sees it’s only me, and her eyes narrow. “Ransom. What are you doing?”

I’ve broken our unspoken social rules, approaching her like this in broad daylight. Already, I see her eyes flickering around, trying to gauge whether or not someone’s caught her in conversation with one of those boys. So I get to the point: “Just tell me where she is and I’ll leave you alone.”

“Daddy has her under house arrest. Something about bad influences. Now get out of here before I’m forced to make a scene.”

She doesn’t need to tell me twice. I tip my hat with a, “ma’am,” and bolt before she starts screeching.

House arrest. Well, that explains it.

If her bulldog of a father wants to keep her locked up, I can’t stop him.

But the problem with Claire is this: she’s become the brightest spot of my every day, and I’m not ready to give that up.

So if the mountain won’t come to me…I’ll climb the mountain.

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