21. Breakaway

Chapter 21

Breakaway

M aeve was grateful for her aviator sunglasses as the rising sun reflected brightly off the glistening snow. She held the horses tightly by their halters while she waited for Oakeigh to join her for their morning cattle drive.

Despite the chores requiring Oakleigh to be up before dawn, the young woman still moved slowly in the morning.

Using her teeth to pull the glove off her fingers, Maeve retrieved her phone from the pocket of her snow pants. She felt her heart beat a little faster as she noticed a text from Dallas. The message was just a quick little blurb to remind her how much he missed her. Her thumb hovered over the screen as she considered the wealth of unspoken feelings she wanted to convey.

Interrupted by the front door opening and slamming shut with a loud bang, she marked the text with a heart emoji and slipped the phone back into her pocket .

“Well, it’s about time, Oak —” she declared. Glancing up, her eyes connected with someone she never expected to see that early in the morning. “Harper?”

Her sister carefully made her way down the slick porch steps, this time bundled up in the appropriate clothing for the winter weather.

“Where are we headed?” Harper asked, pushing her baggie beanie cap above her eyes with a gloved finger.

Oakleigh wasn’t far behind, distractedly making her way down the driveway. Her phone was tucked into the crook of her neck while she expertly balanced three travel mugs of coffee.

Shuffling her boots in the thick snow, Maeve considered.

“Harper, you sure you’re up for this?”

“Oakleigh said you were riding out today,” Harper replied, her eyes flicking to the tops of the trees through her designer sunglasses. “I need some fresh air,” she snapped. “Is that allowed?”

Maeve pulled her mug from Oakleigh’s fingers. She wondered if the young woman had intended to invite her mother along for what would undoubtedly be an entire day in the pasture.

Interpreting Maeve’s expression, Oakleigh shrugged and mouthed —

“Sorry.”

She whipped her attention back to her phone call.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Audrey,” Oakleigh exclaimed into her phone, hopelessly accentuating every word with the mug of coffee in her hand. “No, I didn’t post — ”

She glanced up at Maeve with what could be perceived as a guilty expression, and promptly lowered her voice to a discreet whisper.

“Because I don’t have to, that’s why.”

Oakleigh pressed out an exasperated exhale.

“I’ve got duties at the ranch, and I can’t help the fact that you’re slammed,” she fumed. “Just do your job.”

She mashed her thumb down on her phone screen and shook her head. “Seriously, Maeve,” she complained. “This girl is killing me.”

Turning her attention to Harper, Oakleigh sighed.

“Thanks for the advice, Mom.”

Harper shrugged. “You know managing staff has always been my strength.”

“Is there something going on at the shop that I should know about?” Maeve inquired, raising an eyebrow.

Oakleigh hesitated.

Much to her visible relief, she was interrupted by a loud bark from the porch.

Dozer dog hurdled down the steps, and disappeared into a deep snow drift. He exploded out the other side, entirely unphased by the slinging powder.

Maeve knelt to greet him with an irrepressible smile. “Not this time, boy,” she admonished. “It’s too cold for you. ”

She stood to her feet and pointed at the porch.

“Get on home now.”

The golden retriever whimpered as he pawed at the cold earth, already beginning to shiver.

“Get on now.”

Dozer reluctantly obeyed, retreating to the warmth of the porch.

“And why doesn’t he listen to me like that,” Oakleigh challenged.

“He’s not your dog,” Maeve remarked fondly. “Go ahead and saddle up another horse,” she instructed. “We’ve got some more weather coming in, and I don’t want to get caught out there.”

While she went to the barn, Maeve and Harper sipped their coffees in a lengthy, awkward silence.

Oakleigh finally returned with a brown mare in tow and handed off the reins. Maeve held the horse steady while Harper put her foot in the stirrup and swung her leg over the saddle.

“Do you know how to ride?” Maeve asked with genuine concern.

Harper glanced down at Maeve from high on her horse.

“Yes, Maeve,” she articulated, clearly put off by the question. “Does it look like I know how to ride?”

“She’s asking,” Oakleigh loudly interrupted, diffusing what was evidently going to end in another heated exchange, “because it took me months to be comfortable on horseback. ”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest,” Harper scoffed with a condescending tilt of her head. “ Oakleigh always wanted to hang out with the cute boys at the beach, rather than have riding lessons like the rest of her siblings.”

“She might be right about that,” Oakleigh admitted with a smirk as she mounted her horse.

Maeve was thankful for the much-needed levity amid the exhausting onslaught of hostility.

Settling into her saddle, Maeve led the way across the snow-covered pastures. Despite the nearly subzero temperatures, the property was undeniably beautiful that time of year. The mountains surrounding the ranch were capped with snow, and the crisp air had the rich scent of pines. The ride across the expansive acres of property was over much too soon as the roaming herd of cattle came into view.

“Oakleigh, take the right flank, and I’ll head left,” Maeve directed, pointing as she went. “Harper, stay back and watch for any that wander off.”

She wasn’t sure how effective Harper would be at the job, but her goal was to keep her sister busy. The least she could do was catch any bulls that meandered from the herd. Considering all of Maeve’s years of expertise on the job — there wouldn’t be any stray cattle.

“Let’s go!” Maeve hollered. They moved toward the herd in a sweeping pattern. The stubbornly slow animals began shuffling in the direction of the ranch house, lowing and bellowing as they went. Maeve was relieved that Oakleigh seemed to be holding her own as she prompted the herd along. There was a time when she would have had to keep a close eye on the young woman who had been known to fall off her horse on more than one occasion.

Oakleigh had become more than competent at the job, and Maeve couldn’t help but beam with pride at how far she had come.

The cattle meandered along, swishing their tails as they made their way through the long pasture marked with large trees and sharp inclines. It was no surprise that the bears were coming in undetected and picking off the animals that strayed too far from the safety of the herd. Any loss was a blow, but Maeve was thankful that none of their bucking bulls had become a winter snack for the grizzlies.

Sweeping around, Maeve assessed every aspect of the operation. Her gaze landed on Harper, who was surprisingly more comfortable on horseback than she would have ever guessed. She appeared almost peaceful, in a way that Maeve recalled from days long before life had turned into such a tangled mess.

Turning her eyes back to the trail just in the nick of time, she noticed a young calf break away from the herd.

“Oakleigh!” she shouted, nabbing her attention.

The young woman swiveled and grabbed the rope from her saddlebag. Hurling it clumsily at the calf, she missed the young animal entirely. It weaved and bobbed past her, darting through the herd.

Harper was now their last line of defense .

Maeve wasn’t sure if her sister would know what to do, but she certainly knew the horse was trained to react. The mare sidestepped before dashing after the wayward calf through the brush and trees. Disappearing down an embankment, Harper was white-knuckling the reins on the back of the galloping horse.

“Should we go after her?” Oakleigh shouted.

Maeve cupped her hands around her mouth.

“Stay with the herd!”

Pulling on the reins, she dug in her heels to prompt the horse to a gallop. Going through the thick brush, she raised her arm to shield her face from the tree branches snagging at her clothes. Maeve caught up to them just in time to see Harper’s horse cut left, blocking the path of the swift little calf. Her riding skills had finally met their match as she slipped off the back of her horse and landed in a pillowy snow bank.

Maeve rode up quickly, retrieving the coil of rope from her saddle. Slinging it over her head, she flung it forward, hooking the rope around the calf’s back hooves. She pulled, using her body weight to yank the animal to the ground. Jerking the rope around her saddle horn, she wrapped it tightly until the calf was secured.

“Woah girl, woah,” Maeve exclaimed, pulling the reins taut. The mare hadn’t even come to a complete halt before Maeve’s boots hit the crunchy snow.

She went first to Harper .

“Harp, are you okay?” Maeve asked, fully anticipating her sister’s unpredictable temper to boil over.

To her surprise, Harper smiled.

“I’m fine,” she acknowledged, dusting the dirt and pine needles off her jacket with her gloved hands. “At least, I think?”

Maeve extended her hand. For once, Harper took it without recoiling, allowing herself to be hoisted to her feet.

“Nothing’s broken,” Harper exhaled. “Except these.” She groaned, retrieving her broken designer frames from the snowbank. She went to her horse and gave it a gentle pat, while it munched on some long grass that poked through the snow.

“I’m really sorry about this,” Maeve said. “I thought we could manage.”

Harper reached over, and affectionately scratched the mare’s nose.

“It’s a horse, Maeve,” she replied somewhat scoldingly. “He was just doing what he was trained to do.”

Maeve found herself at a loss for words, which practically never happened. “You want to ride or walk her back to the ranch?”

“Will you relax?” Harper balked with an eye roll. Putting her foot in the stirrup, she pulled her leg back over the saddle with a wince. “I’m fine, Maeve.”

Although her noticeably stiff gait had defied her casual response .

“If you say so,” Maeve murmured, mounting up. Tugging the little calf behind them, she navigated back through the brush.

When they arrived at the herd, Oakleigh was leaning on her saddle horn, wholly distracted in her phone screen.

“Ready to go?” Maeve prompted.

“All set,” Oakleigh answered, slipping her phone back into the pocket of her snow pants. She clicked her tongue against her cheek, and nudged her horse with her heels.

The cattle followed suit, ambling their way through the thick trees.

“Sorry about that, Maeve,” Oakleigh finally spoke up. “I guess I need to work on my roping skills.”

“It took me a while to learn,” Maeve responded. “Roping, riding, shooting —” she listed. “They aren’t skills you just pick up overnight.”

“I’m up for everything,” Oakleigh affirmed. “But I’ll never be comfortable shooting anything.”

“And why’s that?” Harper loudly interjected.

“Because guns scare me, Mom,” Oakleigh replied with a touch of bitterness in her voice.

Harper audibly scoffed. “I’ve never seen you afraid of anything,” she attested. “Even when you should have been.”

Oakleigh arched an eyebrow, exchanging subtle glances with Maeve. “Thanks, Mom,” she said. “I think?”

“Really, Oakleigh,” Harper lectured, “You can’t allow fear to control you. ”

Harper should have just left it there, but it was as though the woman couldn’t resist beating her argument to death.

“The habits you’ve picked up here,” she commented with a disappointed shake of her head. “I hardly recognize you anymore.”

Maeve bit her lip, suppressing a few things she wanted to say but knew she shouldn’t. Instead, she looked up to the sky and said a prayer for healing in their relationship.

The rest of the morning cattle drive went without a hitch, until the herd finally shuffled through the pasture gate. It was a temporary measure, as there wasn’t enough grass to sustain the hungry cows for long. Oakleigh pulled the gate closed with a loud metal clang, always being mindful now to secure it in place.

“Where’d she learn all this?” Harper inquired, propping her palm on the saddle horn.

Maeve smiled proudly, raising her voice so Oakleigh could hear. “She learned the hard way that open gates mean loose cows.”

Oakleigh rolled her eyes. “Not to mention angry neighbors and mud,” she exhaled. “So much mud.”

Harper appeared contemplative, pulling her gaze across the open pastures.

“You alright, Harp?” Maeve asked, this time not as concerned with her physical injuries .

Harper quietly dismounted, taking the horse by the reins. Closing her eyes, she gave the mare’s soft neck one more nuzzle.

“I’m fine,” she replied. “And if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times,” she snapped, a noticeable coarseness returning to her tone. “Don’t call me that.”

Turning on her heels, Harper led the horse across the long pasture toward the barn.

Maeve leaned on the fence rail, watching the golden sun dip behind the snowy, white mountain range.

“What’s up with her?” Oakleigh asked, stepping beside her.

“I don’t know, Oakleigh,” Maeve responded with a shake of her head. “I really don’t.”