Free Outlaw Cowboy by Nicole Helm Page B

soul. Something about the clear air and the hard ground always smoothed away the hard edges of the day.
    For a few seconds anyway, until the reality of responsibility reminded him he was still learning how to be responsible, how to care. That everything this was to him rested on somehow making a failing ranch solvent in a few months.
    Nearly six years since Dad’s accident, he should have found it by now, but it seemed there was some illusive ingredient to peace somewhere outside his reach. All he could do was keep going and hope someday it would be enough. Hope he wasn’t destined to always fall into his weaknesses, his vices, his bad blood.
    Caleb reached the barn and pushed the door open with its usual screech of metal rod against metal guide. He opened his mouth to explain how she could help, though he doubted she had the strength for half of what he needed to do.
    Delia stopped though, not entering the darkness of the barn. She slowly turned her face to the sky, and breathed.
    â€œI thought you wanted to help,” he demanded. Her stillness now was different than when she was frightened or startled. This stillness was something closer to…peace, and he envied it—a sharp pain of longing hit his gut.
    â€œIt’s…” She inhaled, the gray clouds parting to let a hint of sun land on her face. For a second it highlighted all the sharp angles there, both natural and produced by what he could only imagine was hunger and being on the run.
    Then she smiled, and he was taken in by the way she inhaled, by the way she seemed to drink in that weak ray of sun, the way it infused her with light and hope and softened all the razor-sharp edges.
    â€œMaybe I would miss Montana if I left.”
    â€œIt’ll keep you going on a bad day,” he muttered, looking away when she met his gaze. It was a thought he was familiar with, because every time he’d ever thought of running away, he’d remember what it felt like to know the land beneath him was Shaw, for centuries, and the sky above him would always be there.
    But why was she thinking about leaving? He couldn’t resist another peek at her any more than he could resist the question. “Are you planning on leaving?”
    Some of the simple joy leaked out of her expression as fast as it had appeared. “I ca—” She shook her head, clearly irritated by whatever it was she’d been meaning to say. “Not yet, anyhow. Maybe someday.”
    There was a strange note to her voice, something akin to wistfulness, but not quite. She turned away from the sun, and to him. Why did that seem so symbolic?
    â€œWhat can I help with?”
    There were probably a lot of ways he could answer that question, but he turned to the feed and lectured her about cattle instead.
    * * *
    Delia’s muscles hurt by the end of an afternoon following Caleb around. He’d been surly, blunt, and hadn’t gone easy on her.
    She grinned and drank in the sinking sun. It had been the best afternoon she could remember in…forever. There was a certain way she had to live—head down, work hard, get one sister out and then the next—that didn’t lend itself to a lot of drinking-in-the-sun introspection.
    It didn’t get Steph out of Dad’s clutches either, which was a problem, but she had all night to obsess over that.
    For right now? She was going to go take a low-water-pressure shower and eat what would likely be unfulfilling canned pasta. And she was going to treasure a few hours of…
    What could she call that feeling? Working side by side with Caleb, feeding cows, checking fences, refilling water tanks. Hard work. Sweaty and sometimes gross work, and yet…
    She’d been at peace. Partly because of the work and partly because of being outside. And partly even because of the company.
    Which she would admit to not one living soul. She started admitting that sort of thing and she was going to do something really