Catch Twenty-Two (Westover Prep 2)

Like every other day I’ve eaten over here, once she’s done, she turns to the front door to walk me out, but instead of climbing off the porch and heading to my truck, I clasp her hand in mine and sit on the front steps.

She doesn’t say a word, but she doesn’t pull her hand from mine either. Other than our clasped fingers, we don’t touch, and for the first time, this is exactly enough. I feed off of her energy, soaking up everything I know she wants to say but doesn’t, and we remain silent when I stand to leave.

I press my lips to her cheek and walk away. After I climb into my truck and look at the front of the house, she’s already gone.Chapter 14Frankie

“We used the last of it yesterday.” I bite my lip before continuing, unsure of how he’s going to react. “I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry.”

“No big deal,” he answers immediately. “I’ll grab some this evening.”

I nod and get back to work. It’s been two weeks since the first day I helped him with the goat pen. Every day, I’m ready to help him before he arrives. Every evening, I’m exhausted, falling into my bed not sure I’ll be able to get up the next day.

I’ve honestly never felt better in my life, despite the cuts and scratches on my arms and the ache in my muscles. I’ve learned why people who work on a ranch wear jeans, and even though I feel like stripping out of them when I get too hot, I also don’t want to get cut up the way I did the first couple of days. I even went to town with Nan and bought a pair of real boots. It was clear from day one that sneakers weren’t going to cut it on the ranch.

“After we’re done here, I’ll need some help. The patch job we did on the east side fence last week isn’t going to cut it for long.”

I only nod my agreement as I carry a bag of feed from the stockroom and sling it into the back of the truck. I’m not nearly as strong as Zeke, so each bag I carry over means I also have to climb into the truck with it and stack it correctly.

He tried to help me once, but it’s a matter of pride doing it myself, and he backed off, not growing frustrated like I thought he would because it takes me a little longer.

We don’t talk, not even pleasant chatter. If words leave our mouths, it’s about the ranch. What needs to be done. What we’re doing. What we plan to do the next day.

But every evening he eats supper with us. Every evening we sit on the porch holding hands, and every evening he presses his soft lips against my cheek, not lingering any longer than he did the first time.

We’re friends. I think we are at least.

He doesn’t sling insults my way any longer. He doesn’t do things out of spite, and I want to believe that it has more to do with him no longer hating me than his desperate need for help around the ranch.

“Excuse me?”

We both turn at the sound of an unfamiliar man’s voice at the other end of the barn.

Before either of us can open our mouths to ask him who he is, Nan appears beside him, shaking his hand and speaking too low for us to hear.

“Zeke,” Nan calls. “I want you to meet Rowdy, the new foreman I was telling you about.”

My throat closes up as I watch for Zeke’s reaction to the new boss on the ranch. Nan may have spoken to Zeke about it, but this is the first time I’m getting wind of a new employee.

“Rowdy Hastings,” the guy says, holding his hand out for Zeke to shake, but his attention is diverted long before the handshake is over. “You must be Frances.”

His hand reaches for mine, and I don’t miss the gentlemanly way he tips his hat forward.

“Frankie, please.” I offer him my hand, smiling at the realization that he’s younger than I first thought, mid-twenties at the most.

“She’s been helping out a lot these last couple of weeks,” Nan informs the newcomer.

“Well, we can’t have that, now can we?” Rowdy says, his eyes darting toward Zeke when an odd noise slips from his lips. “The barn ain’t no place for a lady.”

“Now, now,” Nan tsks. “Jacobson Ranch won’t tolerate any form of sexism.”

I grin at my grandmother, grateful that she put this guy in his place in a more professional way than I was planning to.

“Of course,” Rowdy says with an alarming smile. “I just mean that she doesn’t have to help now that I’m here.”

“I do,” I say the same time Zeke spits, “She does.”