3. Logan

3

Logan

I haven't been to the ranch in over a decade but I remember the day like it was yesterday. Mama had taken on an extra shift and Daddy didn't have anyone to watch me while he hunted for jobs. I remember him telling me to stay put when he climbed out of the truck and all but swayed into the barn. His sweat still smelt like whiskey and it leached into the cab as we drove. Those days, I was grateful it was too hot not to have the windows down.

I hadn't been back since that day but I remember the bright white barns and herds of cattle that lounged in the pastures. It was a place that seemed happy at first glance but as the years went by I watched Daddy break his body for this ranch. He dove deeper to the bottom of bottles and it felt like his hatred had wrapped around his soul like dark twisting vines.

Now?

Now all I see is the place that took a hand in destroying my childhood.

"You gonna sit in that truck all day or actually do some work?" A hand smacks the roof of my car forcing my head to whip around at the source. The grin on his face falters for just a moment, just as everyone does when they get a glimpse of me. "Oh shit," he exhales out in a breathy laugh, "trouble's here."

I narrow my eyes at him, gripping the wheel a little tighter than necessary.

"Didn't think I'd ever see a Shepard back here." Bode drawls.

His hair is longer than I remember, cut just above his now sharp jaw and a mess of waves that the sweat and dirt matted on his forehead undoubtedly created.

"Makes two of us," I mutter while switching off the ignition.

"Heard what ya did to Ol' Tommy's face." He grins and steps back as I push the door to the car open. "My opinion? It was an improvement."

"The judge didn't seem to think so," I say.

Bode laughs. "Yeah, I suppose not."

I stare at him as he laughs. His eyes still crinkle at the corners like they did when we were kids except the lines around them are a little deeper now.

"I can't believe you find that funny." I shoot him a glare as I tug my phone from my pocket. 6:58am.

"The fact that you're here isn't funny," he says. His voice is more serious as I glance up at him. "But I gotta say, a part of me is glad that it's this over jail."

"Why? So you'd have entertainment while you work?" I bite, getting frustrated as the minutes pass. I'm supposed to meet him at seven am and now I'm one minute away from being late and proving everyone else right. "I'm supposed to meet someone here, and if it isn't you, can you at least point me in the right direction?"

"That's not—"

"Bode." I say firmly, cutting him off. "Is it you?"

His brow lowers at the tone in my voice before he lifts his chin in the direction of one of the barns, "You're looking for Crew."

"Awesome."

Crew Cassidy. Sheriff Cassidy's older hometown hero brother. I turn on my heel and head towards where Bode directed.

"For what it's worth Shepard," he calls after me, "Tommy never deserved you."

I toss him a glance over my shoulder, "pretty sure we deserved each other."

He mutters something I can't make out before I hear the crunch of his boots against the gravel drive fade off into the distance.

Bode used to be a friend. High school football star, decent grades before he suddenly dropped out. No one really knew why but of course that didn't stop the rumor mill from churning out bullshit reasons. I didn't know he worked at the ranch and it had been years since I'd seen him. He looked good, like he has definitely been doing better than Tommy and I over the years. Though, I guess it didn't take much for that.

I stop at the edge of the barn door, peeking my head inside. Soft whinnies of a few horses fill the space along with the strong smell of hay and manure. The smell wraps around me, invading my nose and it takes a moment for me to get used to it.

"Hello?" I call, not seeing anyone as I step further into the breezeway.

A set of heavy footsteps come around the corner; the horrifying source? A man roughly the size of a freight train. His sandy blonde hair is already matted to his forehead from sweat and the dark blue riding shirt he's wearing struggles against the planes of his chest as he tosses down a bale of hay. I don't remember Crew Cassidy being the size of a house but I recognize the same blond hair the Sheriff has. Where Sheriff Cassidy has blue eyes, Crew's hazel ones drag down my body as if he's assessing whether or not I'm worth the trouble.

He wipes his hands over the front of his painted on Levi's that combined with the stoic look on his face as his eyes settle on mine, instantly sets me on edge.

"You're late," he says, turning from me and walking out of the other side of the barn.

My nose scrunches at the accusatory tone in his voice but I quickly follow him because, for whatever reason, I still want to prove everyone else wrong about me.

Crew's back tenses when he hears my footsteps behind him, as if he didn't expect me to follow. Still, he doesn't turn. Instead he hurls another hay bale and the movement brings my attention to the strained muscle of his biceps. Biceps which are about the size of my head and struggling against the fabric of his shirt.

"Grab a bale, bring it to stall three," he commands.

"You want me to carry one of those?" I ask, eyes wide.

"You can drag it if you want, but you're cleaning up the mess if you choose to do that."

"And if I don't do either?"

I've followed him back into the barn this time as he tosses the hay in front of another stall. Crew shrugs, "then I walk you to your car and you can drive to the courthouse and explain to Judge Abbot why you're going to jail instead."

His eyes find mine as he crosses his arms over his chest letting me know he's serious. I have no doubt that he would, either.

"It's haulin' hay, Logan," Crew finally says when I don't answer, because truthfully, the ball of conflicting emotions stuck in my throat won't let me. "The easiest part of what I'm gonna have you do is feed these animals."

I stare at him a moment longer, silently willing the tears threatening to make an appearance to find their hiding places. "Fine."

He nods, dropping his tree size arms to his side. "Great. Grab a bale and drop it over here." Crew points to where stall three is before marching past me.

"You know barking at me like I'm a dog doesn't help the anger issues," I retort and follow him once again.

As if it's a bag of feathers, he lifts another stack of hay moving past me again.

"Everyone who steps on this ranch does their part. Right now, this is yours."

I grip the strings that are tied around the hay and try to lift it. It's a lot less heavy than I thought but still it barely comes off the ground before the string digs into the creases of my fingers and burns. Before I can even stop it, it rips from my fingers and drops to the ground.

"Lift with your knees," he says from behind me, like it's the most obvious thing.

"It hurts," I complain, staring down at the red lines burning on my palm. Crew disappears into the barn only to come back a moment later. He holds out a pair of work gloves that look too big for my hands.

His head dips to catch my gaze and I don't miss their quick glance down at my hands, "Try again," he says, " lift with your knees ."

I take the gloves from him and say nothing about their size. "Thanks."

Crew nods again, going back into his quiet shell, and takes a step back from me. I slip the gloves onto my hands and turn back to the stupid hay. I try once again to lift it using my knees just like he told me and this time with the gloves it's much easier. The weight is taken off of my lower back and the burning sensation in my hands subsides.

When I turn around with it in my hands I don't miss the corner of his mouth turning upwards just slightly as he watches me. I ignore it and the flutter I feel in my belly at the sight of his subtle approval.

I make my way over to the stall and drop the hay in front of it. Standing, I let out a breath of air, unaware I had been holding it in.

"Hands feel better?" He asks, tossing his own bale down next to mine.

My chest heaves as I nod.

"Good, now come on," Crew says, turning away from me and heading back outside.

I take another deep breath and follow him, even though every fiber of me wants to refuse to with the tone he's taken with me.

He leads me over to an old gray Chevy truck and points to the passenger side.

"Get in."

"Again, not a dog," I snap.

Crew levels me with a glare. The green and gold in his eyes glint in the morning sun and I suppress every urge to back down and get inside the cab. I'll do my part here. I'll fulfill my court sentence but I won't be talked down to.

So, I cross my arms over my chest ignoring the itch of the worn leather gloves against my arms and glare right back at him. Is it an immature thing to do? Yes. Do I care? Not really. The hometown hero can stare me down all he wants. It takes a lot more than a look to scare me.

"Shepard," he huffs, "get in the truck."

I raise a brow at him.

"Please."

The next weeks of work are hard. My hands are blistered, even with the gloves my skin is raw and nothing soothes them. Crew floats around me, as much as a man his size can, his bossy attitude grates at me but I do as I'm told. Getting through this would be hard but I know that the end of the tunnel is no jail time and my freedom with Ash.

I pile hay bails, I break them down, I feed the horses, I muck the stalls. At the end of most days I'm too tired to even keep my eyes open. Ash and I fall asleep in front of the tv with half eaten tuna salad sandwiches and wake up in the same positions. I can't tell if Crew is trying to break me down or build me up but it's exhausting and I'm at the end of my rope by week two.

I stare at the vast expanse of his back as he brushes down a horse at the other end of the barn and contemplate all the mistakes that led me here.

"You stare any longer, you'll put a hole in him." Bode cracks as he comes around the corner in a tight blue riding shirt and his ugly black hat.

"That man is made of concrete," I mumble. "And he bosses me around like a drill sergeant, it's infuriating. I'm going to lose my mind."

"Hang in there, Shepard. I happen to know you're pretty indestructible yourself." Bode smiles at me and wanders off to the other side of the barn.

I don't feel very indestructible, but for all the suffering I'm going through… I do feel stronger.