Her eyes bored into mine, her chest rose rapidly with her breaths. “No, I don’t.”
“Oh, I think you do,” I said, sidling my horse closer to hers and leaning over, grabbing her saddle’s horn and bringing her within inches of my face.
She became flustered, turned away from me and started counting the cattle in the open pasture south of the lake.
“We’re missing seven head.”
I sat up in my saddle and took a deep breath, still staring at her. You can’t have her. Stop. Become her friend. Only her friend.
I sighed and let her horse go. “Can you spot them?” I asked.
“There,” she said, pointing her gloved hand just east of the lake. “There’s five there.”
“The other two?” I asked again. We searched the lake perimeter in silence. This time I spotted the remaining two. “There,” I said, answering my own question.
“Come on,” she said, her saddle protesting beneath her as she directed her horse back down the ridge.
I kept pace with her. “What’s your favorite thing in the world?” I asked her.
She looked at me skeptically. “Why?”
“Cricket, I don’t have ulterior motives. I just figure I’m going to be here a while, we’re partners or whatever and it’d be nice if I knew a little about you.”
She cleared her throat. “My favorite thing in the world? Let’s see,” she began, pulling a little at her bottom lip. I checked the gut ache yet again. “Besides my family?”
“Besides your family.”
“Eugie,” she said, smiling and glancing at the earth below her.
When she said his name, Eugie peered up at her, tongue lolling and eager to do her bidding.
“Not Ethan?” I asked, unable to help myself.
“Ethan is part of my family, Spencer.”
“Fair enough. Do you have any hobbies?”
“I may dabble a little in sculpture,” she said, her cheeks flaming red.
“Sculpture, eh? And your medium of choice?”
“I take scrap metal we used to recycle around the ranch and whatever I can find and make crazy things out of them.”
“That’s bad ass,” I said, genuinely impressed. “What do you make?”
She looked on me strangely. “Do you really want to hear this?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. It’s-It’s just not a lot of people around here think it’s an efficient use of time.”
“Who are these people?”
“Oh, no one really,” she evaded.
Ethan. Ethan was “the people” she was talking about.
“Why do they think this?” I asked.
We rounded the horses around the base of the ridge we’d traversed down and headed for the two cattle at the north of the lake.
“I guess because I could be, I don’t know, doing necessary repairs or whatever instead.” She looked at me with a smile. “There’s always something to do on a ranch.”
“Exactly,” I agreed.
“Hmm?”
“There’s always something to do here. Proof that life does not wait, so why not carve yourself out a little bit of happiness. Granted, I know this is fulfilling work because it helps your family survive.” I sighed. “It’s definitely exhausting work, but why does it have to be what defines you?”
“Trust me,” she said, cryptically, “no one defines me by the work I do here.”
I studied her, but her face gave nothing more away. I could tell it was one subject that was off limits with her so I kept my mouth shut.
“You never answered my question.”
“Which one?” she asked.
“What do you make with this scrap metal you happen upon.”
She smiled down at her hands then looked up at me once more. My heart stopped. She made my heart stop. “I make unusual things. For instance, I’ve always been fascinated by Churchill.”
“Interesting,” I said, laughing a little.
She ignored me. “So I created this exaggerated version of his head using odds and ends. I stamped his quote, ‘If you’re going through hell, keep going,’ onto his forehead. I loved it. The others, not so much.” She sat thoughtfully for a second. “Except for Jonah! Jonah loves my sculptures.”
“And August?”
“Thinks they’re a waste of time.”
“And Ethan?”
She looked at me but didn’t utter a word.
“I think I’d like to see these sculptures of yours, Cricket Hunt.”
“Caroline,” she corrected with a smile.
“Your real name?” I asked.
“Yeah, you can keep calling me Cricket if you want though, but if we’re going to be partners, as you said, you should know my real name is Caroline.”
“Caroline’s a beautiful name.”
“Thank you.” She smiled that heart-stopping smile. “My dead mama picked it out.”
“I don’t know about that,” I said. “I saw her picture in the main house. You seem to carry an awful lot of her likeness. Seems to me she lives on just fine.”
She smiled at me. This time it reached glassy eyes. “Thank you.”
Chapter Nineteen
We reached the two grazing cattle, both fat with calf, and began to lead them toward the five on the east side of the lake. Cricket and I tried to continue our conversation, but the heifers made it impossible—one or both of them getting skittish and trying to flee into the woods. It was hard to guide our horses, let alone the cows through the trees.