Page 18 of Wrangling Her Heart
“Rex! I need to talk to you,” Pet yelled across the yard.
Just when his day couldn’t get any worse.
He groaned, running a wet hand down his face. He didn’t want to talk about hunting or traps or anything else today. Now, he didn’t even want to hunt for acorns or walnuts.
“What do you want, Petunia?”
Pet stopped short. She still wore her dirty buckskins, but the racoon was no longer on top of her head. “I needed to talk to you. I was in town...”
“Stop.” Rex held up his hand.
“But,” she protested. “Listen to me.”
Rex’s patience snapped like a brittle twig. “I told you we are going hunting. You don’t need to ask over and over. No, I do not want to waste time practicing when I have a ranch to run. And you don’t need to come over to my house every single day. Why don’t you stay here and put in some effort to help your own family?” Frustration and exhaustion tinged his words, as he felt the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. The surrounding air crackled with tension as Rex finally let out the pent-up feelings that had been simmering beneath the surface.
A look of confusion crossed Petunia’s face, but Rex couldn’t bring himself to care. Her brows furrowing and her lips pursing in a slight frown. “I thought we was kin?” she asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty. The bond between them suddenly felt uncertain, like a frayed thread about to unravel.
“You have your family here. I need to take care of my own.That isn’t you right now.”
He watched for a moment, her bottom lip trembling. “I hate you, Rex Hartman. I hate you.” Petunia turned on her heel and ran towards the house, her shoulders shaking.
Rex leaned against the wooden fence as the front door slammed, shaking the house windows. He turned and hung his head, placing his forehead against the railing.
“Lord, help me,” he muttered. He knew it wasn’t a real prayer. Just a plea from a desperate man that had made a foolish choice.
The second slamming of a door made him jump, and he turned to see Baxter storming out of the farmhouse. His brows were furrowed, his jaw clenched, and his fists were balled up at his sides. Rex’s stomach tightened with fear as Baxter marched across the yard towards him, radiating anger and frustration.
“I don’t know if I should just take you to the ground or let you explain,” Baxter said, rolling up his shirtsleeves.
“Perhaps both.”
“You wanna tell me what you did that made that young girl cry? She’s in her room wailing like Aunt Mary’s ghost, and now all the children are crying.”
Rex kicked at the dirt with his boot. “I know it may sound unlikely, but it resulted from my foolishness and frustration.”
He slowly looked up at his brother, who towered over him with clenched fists and a furrowed brow. A hint of sorrow appeared in Baxter’s eyes as he stared back at him. Rex felt small and ashamed standing there.
“You are my brother. My closest friend. I don’t know what is going on in your head, but I suggest you get your house in order, brother. The Lord will not bless you until you do that.”
“I know.” Rex knew. Whistling for his horse, he lifted thesaddle once more. “Apologize to Pet for me and see that Tillie gets back to the house, will you?”
Chapter Seven
Rex was avoiding her.
It was in the way his gaze slipped past her as if she were nothing but a shadow on the wall.
In the manner he turned his back to her whenever she entered the room.
His avoidance was palpable, like a stiff wind that swept through the kitchen door every time he strode out of it. Tillie felt it like a punch to her heart each time.
Never had she experienced such an icy reception, not from him.
She tried to engage him in small talk, but he just ignored her questions.
It was peculiar that she hadn’t seen Petunia around theranch, either. Normally, the two of them were like peas in a pod. Thanksgiving was just a few days away, and Rex hadn’t even mentioned hunting for turkeys. She only knew about it because Annamae asked him when he was planning to go.
He responded with a grunt.
