Free Final Scream by Lisa Jackson Page B

I—”
    “Bullshit!” His nostrils flared and he sniffed loudly. “Worse yet, you could have done the same to me.” Pointing a stiff, determined finger at her breastbone, he added, “You stay away from me when I’m working with that damned colt!”
    “Don’t you ever tell me what to do.”
    Eyes locked and Cassidy could barely breathe. He reached upward, grabbed the chain around her neck and the St. Christopher’s medal that was hidden in her shirt. Yanking slightly, he slid his fingers down the links so that the flat metal piece slipped into his palm, then he held it tight, pulling her face to within inches of his so that she could smell his angry smoke-laced breath and see the pores of his skin. For the first time she noticed that his intense blue eyes were flecked with tiny streaks of gray. “I’ve got a job to do, Princess,” he growled, “and you can play high-and-mighty all you want, but if you get in my way, you could get hurt.”
    Her heart was thudding so loudly she was certain he and the rest of the county could hear it. “I’ll take my chances.”
    “Wouldn’t be smart.” His lips barely moved.
    She inched her chin up a notch. “I’m old enough to make my own decisions.”
    “You’re playing with fire, Cass.”
    “Meaning?”
    “Just stay away from me.”
    “Why?”
    “I need to concentrate. I can’t do it when I have to worry about some candy-assed little girl getting in my way.”
    “I’m not—”
    “Leave.” He dropped the chain suddenly and she nearly fell over, then he stalked toward the horse. His muscles were bunched and he looked as if he could strangle the colt. “Okay, you ornery bastard,” he growled. “Let’s try it again.”

Five

    Cassidy made a point of staying away from Brig for the next few days, but she couldn’t help seeing him driving the tractor, or shoring up the fence, or cutting the herd, or working with Remmington. From the corner of her eye she watched as he talked, laughed and smoked with several of the other ranch hands, and she noticed that he didn’t bother telling Angie to leave whenever she happened to run into him. Time and time again they were together, she smiling up at him, he being patient with her.
    Cassidy couldn’t imagine what they had to talk about. But with Angie, there didn’t have to be any conversation. Men and boys alike vied for the honor of just standing close to her.
    Nearly a week passed until Cassidy was alone again with time on her hands. She felt restless and bored and wondered why this summer was different from any other. Last year she’d still found a little fascination with the things she always had but this summer, with the weather so blasted hot…She glanced over to the paddock where Brig was working with Remmington. The colt seemed less prickly. Maybe Brig was making progress. Some men broke horses fast, in a matter of days, but Brig took his time working with an animal and, she supposed, she should be grateful for that. Still, she felt as if the whole family treated her like a little girl who couldn’t do anything for herself—including ride her own horse.
    She climbed over the fence and hiked down to the creek where, as a girl, she’d caught crawdads and periwinkles and watched water skippers skim the ripples. She and Angie and Derrick had played down there years before, splashing each other and throwing mud, wading in the shallows. Derrick had been fun-loving then, laughing and pulling Cassidy’s hair or trying to spatter his younger sisters with the muck he’d raked from the bottom of the creek. She and Angie had caught him smoking his first cigarette down there once, coughing up a storm, and another time she’d spied him with some dark-haired girl, kissing and rolling around in the shadows, sweating and panting. Cassidy had ducked away quickly, slipping back through the leafy curtain of willow branches before she recognized the girl who so willingly let him strip her of a scanty little training