"I doubt it. I've only seen her love for this ranch in one other person." He eyes me meaningfully. "You and Jessie are a lot more alike than I ever realized."
I look down at my boots, but the corners of my mouth turn up. "Get some sleep, old man." I push off the railing.
"Same to you," he counters.
I head back to my cabin, to my pregnant wife and my son, my steps lighter than they've been in a long time.
25
Jessie
A tall,filled-out silhouette greets me when I pull up to my place.Sawyer. He’s on the darkened porch, leaning against a column. I climb from my car and walk over. The closer I get, the more I see the worry in his eyes.
"Everything okay?" he asks. I think it's his way of asking where I've been without directly asking the question.
"I'm good," I answer, coming up the stairs. There are only three of them, and now I'm on the landing. "Wes and I went out and found those hunters. I don't think they'll be back."
It was by far the boldest thing I've ever done. My hands shook the entire ride back to the stable after, and I think Hester Prynne sensed it. She was jumpy, too.
I never would've ridden off with that man tied behind me. The hubris was for show. A message. I think he got it.
Fear and concern crinkle his eyes. "What did you do?"
"We gave them a warning."
"What kind of warning?"
I break down and tell him. Sawyer remains stock-still, his face a mask of disbelief when I tell him about the rope and the horse.
"I wouldn't have done it," I assure him. "My purpose was to incite enough fear that they won't come back. And, hopefully, some respect." They didn't show me any respect the first time I encountered them, and I was nice. So this time, I went a new route. For some people, you have to travel a different road to arrive at the same destination.
We go into the house, and I turn on the overhead light in the kitchen, blinking at its brightness after spending the past couple hours in the dark. All I want is a drink of water.
"You're a mess," Sawyer says, coming up behind me. I look down. A layer of dirt covers my jeans.
"Wes and I had a little race near the end of the ride. I won," I smirk proudly. "We must've been kicking up a lot of dust."
"Your hands," Sawyer says, his eyes on my palms. "Are they burned?"
"A little," I admit, looking down at the red marks. "Rope burn. I was a little careless when I was preparing it."
"Do you have anything for that?"
"There's some balm in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom."
He strides away, returning with the tube. "Sit down," he says, motioning to the chair.
I sink down, letting my body relax into the hardwood. It's not comfortable, but in this moment it's all I need.
Sawyer gets down on one knee, propping a forearm on his thigh and leaning forward. "Let me see," he says, unscrewing the cap and extending a hand. I place my hand face up in his. Gently, as if he's touching thin glass, he smoothes the balm over the abrasions.
I moan quietly. I don't mean to.
He stops, worried eyes on me. "Did I hurt you?"
I shake my head quickly. "No."
His fingers move from my injury, but stay on my skin. "Did I do the opposite of hurt you?" His eyes seek mine, softening at the corners, and his lower lip peels away in anticipation of my answer.
