Saddled and Spurred (Blacktop Cowboys 2)

“Does Liberty know you joined the army?” When Bailey looked away, Harper knew. A sick sensation invaded her stomach. She lived with Bailey, took care of her, worried about her, and none of that mattered? Her sister didn’t think enough of her to share with her how drastically her future plans had changed?

Or have you been so wrapped up in Bran that you hadn’t noticed?

No. Even if Harper hadn’t spent a large chunk of her time working like a dog, working to ensure that Bailey had the bright future she deserved, Bailey should’ve made the time to talk to her, no matter if they’d had to hold the conversation in Bran’s barn.

“I know you don’t understand, Harper.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” She managed a short laugh. “And to think I’ve listened to you bitch for the last two years about how you hated wearing a school uniform. Now you’ll be wearing a uniform every day for . . .” She met Bailey’s eyes. “How long did you sign up for?”

“Six years.”

Don’t cry. Don’t accuse and say something you can’t take back. Don’t be like your mother.

Harper bit the inside of her cheek so hard, she tasted the tang of blood in her mouth. She kept her composure as she retreated to the kitchen. She reached in the back of the cupboard for the metal cylinder with “Sweet Dreams Tea” emblazoned across the front and dumped out the tea bags—and a roll of bills. She’d skimmed a hundred bucks out of her paychecks from the Turner Ranch as an emergency stash. Maybe this didn’t qualify as an emergency, but Harper knew sticking around in her frame of mind wasn’t an option.

As she passed through the living room, Bailey called out, “Can we please talk about this?”

“No.”

“Please, Harper, I’m begging you.”

“I said no.” Then Harper shut her bedroom door in her sister’s face. Grabbing the small overnight bag from the closet, she shoved in a few changes of clothes. Then she took the bag into the bathroom and loaded up toiletries. Now she was good to go.

But where?

It didn’t matter. She just had to get out of here.

Bailey leaped up from the couch when Harper returned to the living room. “Look, I know you’re upset and I don’t blame you—”

“I’m glad that you don’t blame me for being upset, Bailey, because God knows, I couldn’t go on if I didn’t take the goddamn blame for every shitty thing that happens in this family.”

Her sister gasped. “You’re really pissed. You actually swore.”

Harper slipped on her trench coat. She shouldered her overnight bag and plucked her purse off the coffee table.

“Where are you going?” Bailey asked in a very small voice.

Don’t fall for the distressed-sister act. She’s not the wounded party here, you are. “I don’t know.”

“When are you coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why are you doing this? As some sort of punishment for me?”

Harper looked at her sister with absolute incredulity. “You know, I’m just now starting to understand how wrong it’s been for me to do everything for you. And you’re right, maybe I should’ve worried more about myself, because God knows you don’t waste any energy worrying about me.”

Bailey’s face flushed with guilt.

Good. Harper snatched the car keys from the hook and opened the door.

“Wait. Are you taking the car?”

“Yep.”

“But why can’t you take the truck?”

“Because it’s not mine.”

“But . . . what am I supposed to do?” Pure panic filled Bailey’s voice. “How am I supposed to get anywhere?”

“You’re an adult, remember? You’ll figure it out.” She didn’t turn around as she slammed the door, climbed in the car, and drove off.

Harper made it four miles outside of Muddy Gap before she pulled over. Tears poured out as she finally let loose the grief, frustration, and disappointment that moved through her body like a slow-acting poison.

What would she do now? She’d saved enough money for cheap living expenses for about two months. She’d counted on Bailey taking the full-ride scholarship to the University of Wyoming. Harper figured she had a better chance of getting a job in Laramie in the summer months when the college students were gone. By the time school started in August, she’d be established in a new job and Bailey would be ready to move into the dorms.

She’d had it all planned out, except for one thing: That wasn’t what Bailey wanted.

Had it ever been something that Bailey had wanted?

Yes. They’d talked for hours over the last year and a half about what they’d do once they finally got out of Muddy Gap. Harper hadn’t imagined those conversations. She’d happily given up any semblance of free time to help Bailey fill out college applications. Watching Bailey’s excitement as she realized that the opportunities available to her had been worth the effort of concentrating solely on her academics.

Now it felt like wasted effort.

No. It just hurts.

Harper leaned her neck into the headrest. Spring wind blew through the open car window, cooling her burning cheeks. The morning rays were a fiery gold spread across the empty fields, shining on patches of green grass sprouting in a ring around the mud puddles. Clusters of purple barnyard lilacs dotted the hillside along with the tan stalks of last year’s grass. Yellow clover lined the ditch. If she listened closely, she could hear birdsong trilling on the breeze and the buzz of insects. With nature’s splendor surrounding her, why did she notice that the sky was the same gray as Bran’s eyes?