Big Sky (9 page)

“Please, I’m sorry.”

“You’re
sorry
,” he mocked. “If you were sorry, you would have said, ‘Please, I’m sorry,
Sir’.
I’m going to beat that fucking title into you.”

“P-please, Sir, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, please don’t hurt me.”
He’s fucking crazy.
“Why didn’t you just leave me to die in a ditch?” She was sobbing so hard she wasn’t sure if any of her words sounded like words any more. Out loud, they sounded like a string of hysterical shrieks.

She flinched when the belt hit the floor, buckle first. Luke scooped her up and carried her over to the bed, sitting against the headboard with her still wrapped in his arms. He held her cradled against him, his large, rough hand stroking through her hair.

“Shhhh, it’s all right, Trish. It’s okay, baby. I won’t hurt you. Would never hurt you. I love you.”

Veronica knew he wasn’t playing a role. Something in her terror had penetrated the haze he’d been in. Now he seemed stuck in a flashback, convinced she was Trish. She couldn’t stop crying, and he didn’t stop reassuring her that everything was okay.

After a few minutes he slid out from under her, covered her with the blankets, and turned the light off. But he didn’t leave. Instead, he moved back to the rocking chair.

“Go to sleep, Ronnie.”

She wondered if he realized he’d called her Trish. The look in his eyes told her he knew exactly what he’d said. Though he may have had the best intentions with regards to her welfare, Veronica couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t kill her to exorcise the specter of the woman he’d lost.

***

The roosters jolted Veronica out of a dead sleep. Her eyes went straight for the rocking chair, half afraid she’d find Luke sitting there with a big knife and a crazy gleam in his eyes.

Against all odds, she’d fallen asleep before he’d left the room. She’d been afraid that if she closed her eyes, she’d never open them again. Even considering the kidnapping and everything that had led up to that moment, it was the most unhinged she’d seen him. Before he’d called her Trish—even while he was ranting that he wanted Veronica to
be
her—she’d been able to lie to herself. Rationalize.

There was a bathroom between their bedrooms with a toilet and a standing shower. She took a quick shower, thankful Luke had already gone out to work, and slipped some jeans and a T-shirt on.

When she got to the kitchen, there was a list of instructions for the day and a menu. Breakfast was going to be butterfly pork chops and homemade blueberry muffins. She hated pork, but the last thing she wanted to do was upset Luke further by debating the menu. With her luck, Trish had loved pork.

There was a knock on the kitchen door; it swung open before she could answer. It was Will.

He held up a thermos. “It’s startin’ to get a little chilly out in the mornin’. Luke said he made some coffee.”

On the opposite counter, an industrial Bunn coffeemaker kept three fresh pots of coffee hot. He filled the thermos and started out the door.

“Will, wait.”

He paused. “You need somethin’?”

“If I tell you something, will you swear not to repeat it to Luke?”

“Now, honey, I can’t keep secrets from the boss. Luke is like a brother to me. How would it look if he couldn’t trust me?”

“
Please.
He might hurt me if he knows I said something to you.”

Will frowned. “I told ya he wouldn’t...”

She decided to throw caution to the wind. The only way she’d get to tell Will was just to tell him and pray to God he saw the gravity of the situation and was smart enough to keep his mouth shut. “Last night Luke had some kind of meltdown. He thought I was Trish. I’m really scared of him. You have to help me.”

Will avoided her eyes.“He was real hurt about that. When she died, he almost lost the ranch. He wouldn’t get outta bed. We had to pick up his slack and between that and feedin’ ourselves, it was a rough few months. Did he hurt you?” Even as he said the words, Veronica knew he wouldn’t believe it if she said that he had.

She wasn’t sure how to answer. She didn’t want Will privy to the thing that had almost happened between her and Luke. That was too private, and in many ways too humiliating. What had most scared her was when he’d taken off his belt and then called her Trish, proving he’d left mental health a long time ago.

“No, but he seems unstable. You didn’t see him last night.”

Will set his thermos down and went to the cabinet to get a coffee mug. He poured a cup and handed it to Veronica and led her to the kitchen table. “Sit and drink this. You need to calm down before you hyperventilate. I don’t know what happened with you two, but Luke’s not crazy. You can take my word on that. I’ve worked with him day in and day out for years and years. He had a rough patch after Trish died, but he’s not crazy.” The ranch hand seemed to be in denial about the situation, as if saying it enough times would make it true.

“Why won’t you help me get out of here?”

“Just sit and talk to me for a minute.” Will sat at the table and nodded to the chair opposite from him.

Veronica sank into it. “How long ago did she die?”

“A couple a years now. I never seen him so over the moon for a girl before. And when that baby was comin’, I never seen him so happy. Usually he was all business about the ranch. Didn’t have time to bother with no woman, even when we suggested he settle down to take a little of the load off us. You know what with the cookin’ and basic homestead stuff. That’s why I don’t think he’ll hurt you, no matter how he got you here. You remind him of her. He never coulda hurt her.”

“And that could be a bad thing. What if he snaps and hurts me because he can’t stand to look at me anymore? Sooner or later he’ll realize that I’m not her. All I can be is a painful reminder.”

“He knows you ain’t her.”

“Are you sure about that? Because last night, he didn’t.”

The ranch hand looked like he might waver, but then the kitchen door opened, and Luke walked in.

“Will, you taking a break?”

Will raised his thermos. “Just came for the coffee. It’s too close to breakfast for a break.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Robert and Jake are bringing the new cattle in today. They got some good deals at the auction.”

The ranch hand took one last uncertain look at Veronica and Luke, then he headed out the door back to his work.

When they were alone, Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “Why haven’t you started breakfast?”

“I-I was about to.”

He sighed and sat at the table across from her. “I’m sorry I scared you last night. I don’t know what came over me.”

“You thought I was her.”

“I got lost inside my head for a minute. I know you’re not her.”

“But you wish I was.”

“Do you want me to lie, Ronnie? I took you because you look like her. You know that. I’m sorry I lost control last night and that I scared you. I heard part of what you said to Will.” He nodded over to the open window. “I was standing on the patio, and the voices carry out that window. I’m not crazy. I know who I am. I know who you are. And you and me aren’t finished. It’s going to happen, princess. I’ll do damage control with Will. You make breakfast.”

There went her only shot at help. Because if he talked to Will, he’d probably talk to Jake and Robert, too. By the end of the day, she’d look like the crazy one.

***

After lunch, when the garden had been checked on, the chickens had been fed, and most of the household chores were done, Veronica wandered to the end of the yard where the grass ended. From there, dirt stretched out with barns and pens until the ground turned to green again at the start of pasture.

She liked to think she would have protested more loudly about the work she wasn’t being paid for in any other circumstance, but she’d seen off in the distance that the men worked harder than she did. Of course, they were being paid. Luke had made it clear he’d take care of all her needs. It grated that she didn’t have her own money, but what was she going to do with it? Get into more debt? She wanted to believe she’d learned to be more responsible, but her recent cutbacks had been out of sheer survival necessity and the fear of going hungry.

And if she started spending money with her name attached to it, the creditors would line up at the door. She’d started to see herself as part slave, part fugitive, and the fugitive part made her wary about demanding her rights to a paycheck that debt collectors would just swoop in and take. Luke was right. Paid or unpaid, with so much debt, she was a slave, and there didn’t seem to be an exit ramp in sight.

The work made the time go by faster, and it wasn’t as if any of the men stood over her with a bull whip. Even if they’d wanted to, they didn’t have time. Ranch life was hard. In the end, she had the easier end of things even without being a natural at gardening.Luke had given her a list of things to check for on the leaves.

Veronica was starting to suspect that people without green thumbs lacked knowledge, not magic. Gardening was something of a crapshoot and something of a science. The more you knew, the less gambling there was. But an outsider wouldn’t know that. They’d put something in the ground, it would die, and they would assume they just didn’t have the magic touch.

She stared at the sharp division between thick, green grass and dirt. She hadn’t ventured this far before without shoes. Even the idea of walking in grass without shoes had seemed like a treacherous activity only a few days ago. Who knew what bacteria and parasites were in the ground? She took a few steps onto the warm dirt and then continued on, wondering if she was allowed out this far.

From a barn a few yards away, Veronica could hear a cow making a horrible, distressed sound.

“Hold him!” Luke shouted.

She raced to the barn door to see what was going on. A young steer was being held down while Robert clipped part of his coat away on his hip, then Luke raised a hot branding iron and seared its hide. Smoke and the smell of burnt flesh filled the air.

“No!” She couldn’t help the protest. Luke pulled the branding iron away and gave her a look that made her fear she’d be next.

Veronica turned and ran back toward the house, trying to erase from her mind what she’d just seen. He’d taken that thing to Trish and marked her like common cattle. He’d never hurt her? The scarred flesh on Trish’s hip from the brand he’d given her was proof to the contrary.

“Ronnie, stop!”

Luke’s footsteps pounded behind her, but she kept running. Finally he overtook her, and she was in the grass, panting and struggling to get away from him. His gloved hands held her in place. “Stop it!” he shouted.

She was crying so hard it was difficult to form words. “People use ear tags now. You don’t have to brand them. Do you know how cruel that is?”

He moved off her and let her sit up while he picked stray bits of grass out of her hair and off her dress. “You sound like one of those PETA people, or the lawmakers trying to phase out branding. That’s their endgame, you know. I forget you’re from the city and think food comes from the grocery store.”

“It
should
be phased out. I’m not the one with the problem, here!” She couldn’t stop seeing the calf struggling while Robert held him down and then the cry of pain when the hot iron hit its mark.

“It doesn’t hurt them as much as you think. That cry is more from fear and shock than pain.”

“How would you know? Are you a cow whisperer?”

“I’ve branded hundreds of cows. And I’ve branded a human. The danger comes in getting it too hot so it damages the tissues under the skin, or in not getting it hot enough to kill the nerve endings. Then it hurts for a long time. But like I said, I’m a pro at this. I’ve got a professional branding heater that regulates the temperature out there. I know what I’m doing. It doesn’t hurt them. And it didn’t hurt Trish.”

Veronica thought she might be sick at the casual way he spoke of pressing a hot iron to the flesh of the woman he supposedly loved, to say nothing of all the poor cattle. If he’d loved Trish, and Veronica was a dim replacement, what hope of safety did she have with him?

“I don’t brand them for the purpose of hurting them,” he said. “It protects them from theft and getting lost. They wander a lot when they graze. Sometimes my cattle get mixed in with other people’s cattle. They cost too much to lose like that. This is my livelihood, Ronnie. This ranch has been in my family for four generations. That’s been our cattle brand for the same time period.”

“Tags,” Veronica said, still not willing to let it go.

“Tags come off. Sometimes the cows do it; sometimes hustlers do it. Brands are permanent.”

At least in his own mind, he seemed to think his actions were justified, but the idea of him doing that to a human being when he had no practical rationalizations, made her feel like she was suffocating in a small cramped place, even though they were out under the open sky with plenty of air.

“What about Trish? There’s no justification for making her...”

“She asked for the brand.”

Veronica’s eyes widened, not ready to believe him. What woman in her right mind would ask to be hurt and mutilated like that? Perhaps Trish had been as insane as Luke. Those two had been made for each other, cut out of the same cloth of crazy.