Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
I shake my head, frustration bubbling up inside me. “Why’d you do it? Why did you force me to marry someone to keep this place? You always told me cowgirls are strong, confident, independent women.” My voice rises with every word, the confusion and hurt spilling out. “Yet, you sneakily put in your will that if I didn’t get married, I’d lose everything. Why, Dad? Please, make me understand.”
A tear slips down my cheek, and I swipe it away angrily. “Cowgirls don’t cry, right?” I whisper, the irony of it settling over me like a dark cloud. “Well, I call bullshit. Cowgirls do cry, Dad. They cry when they lose their father, the only man they trusted, the one who was their best friend.” My voice trembles, the pain in my chest deepening as I give in to the raw truth. “They cry when they’re forced into a marriage they didn’t want, just to keep the only thing left in the world they love.”
My vision blurs as more tears fall, and I don’t bother wiping them away this time. “And dammit, they cry when they fall in love. They cry when they’re terrified that love isn’t going to last. When they don’t know if what they felt, what they shared, was real or just a fleeting moment. They cry when they’re scared of losing the one person they didn’t expect to care so much about.”
I lay there, the weight of my father’s absence, the uncertainty with Callum, the fear of losing it all—it crashes down on me. “I don’t know how to be strong right now, Dad. I don’t know how to be a cowgirl. Not like this. Not when I feel like I’m losing everything.”
I stare out at the ranch, waiting for some kind of answer, but all I hear is the wind, whispering through the trees.
Morning has come, and once again, Callum is gone before I even have a chance to see him. I pour myself a cup of coffee, trying to shake the growing pit of unease in my stomach. It's become a routine—waking up to his absence and wondering what it means.
The cool morning breeze brushes past me as I head toward the barn, the sound of horses neighing, chickens clucking, and the ranch hands working filling the air. It’s all so familiar, so comforting, yet it does little to ease the confusion gnawing at me. The ranch has always been my refuge, but today, it feels like a reminder of everything I might lose.
I set my coffee down on a nearby stool and stand in front of Holt, my new boarder. He’s a magnificent horse, strong and graceful, with a coat that gleams in the early morning light. I reach out to stroke his nose, trying to find some solace in the routine.
“Morning, big guy,” I whisper, my voice soft as I scratch under his chin. “You ready to head out to the pasture?”
“Violet?”
I turn toward the sound of Joey’s voice, crossing my arms over my chest instinctively. “Hey, what’s up?”
He looks uneasy, shifting from foot to foot and adjusting his hat, something he does when he’s nervous. It instantly makes my own anxiety spike. “Can we talk for a minute?”
A knot forms in my stomach, but I lean back against the stall, forcing myself to stay calm. “Of course. What’s wrong?”
Joey hesitates, searching my face as if weighing his next words carefully. After a moment, he nods, like he’s convincing himself to go through with it. “This might be none of my business, but with your father gone, I feel like I should say something.”
My heart skips a beat, my brows knitting together in confusion. “Go ahead.”
He sighs, scratching the back of his neck again before finally getting to the point. “Where’s Callum been?”
Of course. It was only a matter of time before someone noticed. Callum used to be here all the time, helping out, getting involved with the day-to-day work, and becoming part of the ranch in his own way. The ranch hands, Joey especially, had gotten used to seeing him around, and now that he’s practically a ghost, they’ve started asking questions.
The problem is, I don’t have an answer for Joey—because I don’t know myself.
So, I do what I do best: I put my defenses up. “You’re right, it’s none of your business,” I say, pushing off the stall and taking a step away. “Anything else?”
Joey doesn’t flinch at my cold tone. Instead, he adjusts his hat again, his face a mix of guilt and determination. “Actually, yeah, there is something else.” He pauses, and for a second, I think he’s going to drop it, but then he looks me straight in the eye. “You asked me once why your father would put that clause in his will, making you marry someone to keep the ranch. I told you I didn’t know, but that wasn’t exactly the truth.”