impact on a person’s self-worth and
security.
So again…
no clue how I feel about all this. Cat’s emphatically said that
her feelings about The Silo are complicated, and that’s a
fucking understatement. She’s loathed it and loved it, and I
get the feeling it’s in equal measures.
I did ask her
because my ego was bruised a bit, “Why
didn’t you choose me that night you were in the stockade?”
Cat didn’t
answer me directly, but in a roundabout way told me what I wanted to
hear. “Rand… I think Samuel ended up conditioning me to
be a woman who knows nothing but submission. I do as I’m told
because I’m afraid to do otherwise.”
I thought this was
an odd observation and wasn’t
sure how it applied to my question, but then she made it all clear.
“But with you, I never felt fear. Never felt I was in danger
from you. Always felt safe and no matter how dirty we got, I felt
cherished. I knew if I said “no” to you, you were a man
who would respect it immediately. I didn’t have anything to
prove to you or myself by bringing you in that room. It was about
confronting my fears and taking back control, and that’s not
something I’ve ever needed to do with you. It was unnecessary
to choose you that night.”
Yeah, those words
right there pretty much sealed my fucking fate. I was going to do
whatever I had to do to get Cat on her feet with a permanent smile on
her face, as well as the knowledge in her soul that she could do
whatever the fuck she wanted and no one was going to hold her back.
This is exactly why
I left her sleeping in my apartment and left for work almost three
hours before it started. Even though I live only a few blocks from
Westward Ink, I needed to drive out to The Wicked Horse and that was
an hour round trip.
After I start up my
Suburban and begin to navigate my way out of town, I dial Bridger up
on my phone. I know he’s
awake because he always gets up early despite the late hours he
keeps. I doubt if the dude sleeps more than a few hours per night. He
usually gets into his office at The Wicked Horse no later than eight
AM.
He answers on the
second ring. “What’s
up?”
“On my way to
The Wicked Horse to see you,” I tell him without any lead in.
“Hope you got a few minutes before you get going for the day.”
“Not there,”
he responds in that gravelly voice that’s typical Bridger. “At
the Double J getting ready to help Woolf with some stuff.”
Not surprised.
Bridger and Woolf are best friends and while Woolf may no longer be
involved with The Wicked Horse or The Silo, those two are still thick
as thieves. Bridger’s
house actually sits on Double J property. As if the guy doesn’t
have enough to do as it is with running a nightclub and sex club, he
often helps Woolf out at the ranch.
Woolf is the CEO of
JennCo, a massive conglomerate comprised mostly of cattle and oil,
but it makes him one of the richest motherfuckers in the USA. You’d
never know it though by talking to him. Unassuming and unpretentious,
he’s just one of the guys so to speak. Hate that he’s no
longer involved in The Silo or Wicked Horse, as the gang doesn’t
get to see him enough as it is. But love does funny things to people
and he’s clearly happier keeping Callie happy, so good for him.
“I’ll be
there in half an hour,” I tell him, not asking if he minds me
taking up his time. I disconnect the phone and step on the gas once I
get out of town.
It ends up taking me
almost thirty-five minutes because of a minor traffic jam caused by
rubbernecking tourists. Dozens of cars pulled haphazardly off the
road, some with their ass ends still in the lane of travel. People
jumping out of their cars without a care that there’s
still traffic on this two-lane rural road that will flatten their
asses.
But that’s
part of living in Wyoming, and I slow to a crawl as I navigate my way
past travelers who are standing on the side of the road in a large
group. I recognize a park ranger’s