Saddled and Spurred (Blacktop Cowboys 2)

Silence.

Dammit. “Sorry. Sniping at each other ain’t gonna help.”

Bailey ran a hand through her dark hair and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry too. I’m just worried.”

“That makes two of us.”

“We both f**ked up. Big-time.”

“Yep.”

“So what do we do now?”

“We wait.” And hope. And pray. And learn to grovel.

With nothing left to say, Bailey trudged to the house.

Bran climbed in the ranch truck. He jammed the gearshift into first and smoked the tires getting away. But not even the smell of burning rubber could mask the scent of Harper’s perfume still lingering in the truck cab.

Waiting would drive him crazy, but it was his only option.

Harper’s overnight stay at the Split Rock compound had stretched into two nights. Her phone had stopped ringing the second day and she wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

Her stomach tightened at seeing the ranch truck gone from the driveway. So Bran had been here. Had he spoken to Bailey? Or had he just driven off without a word?

The lights were on in the living room, which meant Bailey had returned home. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

Instead of Bailey remaining aloof, or acting surly, she launched herself at Harper and sobbed, “I’m sorry. So, so sorry. I’ve been so worried and I know you’re mad at me and if I had it to do all over again . . .”

She squeezed her little sister once before she disentangled from her death grip. “It’s all right.”

“You’ve never taken off like that before. Like Mom.”

Harper ignored the barb. “I needed to work some things out.” She tossed her purse on the chair, kicked off her boots, and walked to the kitchen.

Bailey followed. “Where have you been?”

“Honestly? That’s none of your business.” Harper busied herself fixing a cup of tea. Going through the motions calmed her, even if she didn’t drink the results.

“That’s not fair,” Bailey complained.

“No, it’s not. But you’ll quickly learn that life isn’t fair.” She pressed her backside to the edge of the counter. “We have to talk about packing your stuff for storage.”

“Storage? Why can’t you keep it?”

“Because I won’t be in a position to take care of it for you. I’ll be contacting Liberty about what she wants done with her boxes. Since neither of you owns much, you should be able to find a small storage facility in Rawlins and split the cost. I’ll front the first month’s rent from what I saved for your college expenses, but after that, you and Liberty will have to figure out how to make payments.”

“What about your stuff?”

She shrugged. “What I need I’ll take with me. Anything else, I’ll throw away or give away.”

“What has gotten into you, Harper?”

“A reality check. You were right to point out that I need to start living for myself. I’m starting a new chapter of my life.”

“Doing what?” Bailey demanded.

“I can’t talk about it.”

Bailey gaped at her. “I look at you and see my sister, but I feel like I don’t know you.”

Harper cocked her head and studied her sister, trying to picture her in a helmet and combat fatigues. “I know the feeling. Now, I’m assuming the army reps gave you a list of all you need to accomplish before you head to basic training?”

“I’ve got a lot of lists.”

“Make sure I get the information on where you fly out of and when.”

“But I thought . . .”

She braced herself for Bailey’s guilt trip. “What?”

“I thought you’d help me get ready.”

“Sorry. I’ve got plenty to take care of. And I’m thinking if you’re old enough to die for your country, you’re old enough to pack your own socks and underwear.”

Bailey looked away. “Are you still coming to my graduation?”

“Of course I am.” Harper set down the tea and hugged her little sister, trying to keep her tears in check. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’m really proud of you.”

“Then why are you doing this now? When I’m leaving in a few days?”

“Because as proud as I am of you, I need to do something that makes me proud of myself.”

The day after Bailey left for basic training, Harper was counting the hours until her shift at Get Nailed ended. There’d been zero traffic into Bernice’s Beauty Barn, and if Bernice hadn’t promised Maybelle that Harper would do her nails one last time, she would’ve been tempted to close up shop.

While she was fretting about how Bailey was faring in Mississippi, the oddest thing happened; Susan Williams, Buckeye Joe’s owner, marched in. Susan was a no-frills kind of woman. Stoutbodied, shrewd-eyed, not exactly the type to indulge in a weekly French manicure. Susan’s mannish hairdo indicated that she cut her own hair—apparently with a pair a hedge clippers.

Had Susan timed the confrontation so there weren’t customers around? Harper braced herself for a conversation that’d been a long time in the making.

“Hi, Susan. Something I can help you with?”

Without preamble, Susan looked her square in the eye and said, “I didn’t like your mama, Harper. Wasn’t my idea to hire her. We all know how that played out. But I’ve heard talk about Bailey joining the army and leaving you holding the bag, just like your mama done. It ain’t fair. I just wanted to say if you intend to stick around Muddy Gap and you’re needin’ work, I’ll hire ya at Buckeye Joe’s.”