Page 133 of My Cowboy Freedom
By the time I ran to the bunkhouse, I could barely carry my wet gear.
Plop, plop.Off came my gloves.Thud.The duster.
Piece by piece, I ditched my clothing on the back porch, and then I stepped into the shower.
An animal noise escaped my throat. Raw and wounded. Tears burned my eyes. Rage and helplessness dogged my thoughts.
Rock left me out of a decision that affected me.
Like he didn’t think I was worth telling. And maybe knowing a dude for a week... maybe I didn’t have any right to expect him to confide in me but I thought we had some kind of understanding.
I thought he understood me. I trusted him.
And now I didn’t know what to think. So maybe I had to let things play out. Answer his texts. See if he was okay with his folks after all. See if maybe he was exaggerating how bad things would be with them.
Maybe he was going to be fine and all I had to worry about was my job.
I got out of the shower, dressed in jeans and a plain white T-shirt. Jammed my feet into barn boots.
Going back outside didn’t help, but at least out there, I could stop by the goats and the pigs. I could say hello to Rock’s feathered lady friends.
The storm outside passed, but inside, it still raged.
Figures.
Rock’s fancy chickens stretched and preened for a handful of corn.
Disappointment swelled inside me.
I pulled out my phone and held it like I was praying.
Hey.I sent.Wish to God I’d woken you before I left.
