Page 118 of The Lucky Heart (Jamison Valley 3)
And I was right.
Seven hours later, I climbed back into the truck, utterly miserable. I was in pain, stiff and ready for a good angry cry.
Today, we’d ridden over steep hills and rocky trails deep into the forest. Courage and I had led one pack mule while Elliot and his horse had led another. We’d delivered eight salt blocks to various mountain pastures where about three hundred of the Grants’ cows and calves were spending the summer.
Silas’s saddle had been much too large for me and I’d had to grip it hard with my thighs to stay in place on the rough terrain. I couldn’t see them, but I was sure there were blisters by the seams of my jeans. My arms and shoulders felt like jelly and I had scratches all over my hands from batting away tree branches that hung low over the trails.
My only break today had come from Courage, who must have sensed my misery. Not once had he gone too fast or jumped over the logs that had fallen on the trails like Elliot’s horse had done. He’d just plodded right over them. Regardless of his care, by the end of the trip, even those gentle steps were pure agony.
When Elliot turned off the road and pulled up to the ranch, I sighed with relief. All I had to do was get Courage unsaddled, brushed and settled in his stall. Then I could go inside for a long, hot bath.
“Anything else?” I asked when I was done brushing Courage. Elliot had basically ignored my presence all day and only spoken to me if I had been doing something wrong, so I half expected him to stay quiet.
“No,” he muttered from his horse’s stall. No “thank you” or “good-bye.” Just “no.”
I turned and started walking toward the door. My steps were slow and painful but I managed not to limp or grimace. I’d do that once Elliot was out of sight.
“Felicity?” he called.
I straightened my spine before glancing over my shoulder. “Yeah?”
“He deserves someone better.”
My eyes watered and I turned away so he wouldn’t see my tears. “You’re probably right,” I said, “but I’m not letting him go.”
Elliot scoffed. “Selfish. Just like you always were. Tell me, if he’d come home from Iraq in a body bag, would you have cared?”
Ouch. One tear fell and three took its place. With my chin quivering, I kept walking out of the barn and around the side. When I knew Elliot couldn’t hear me, I covered my mouth to muffle the sob I’d been holding in. Tears poured down my face as I fought to cry in silence.
When I heard the barn door close behind me, I pulled in a few shaky breaths, drying my eyes and then limping through Silas’s door.
“Felicity?”
“Hey,” I said when he appeared in the hallway. “You’re up. Are you feeling better?”
“A little. Where have you been?”
“I went up with your dad to deliver those salt blocks.” I smiled and tried to pretend it was the best day I’d ever had.
His mouth fell open. “What?”
“I’m beat. Do you care if I take a quick bath before making dinner?” I didn’t wait for his answer before slipping into the bathroom and closing the door.
Alone again, the tears came back. My arms protested when I pulled off my army-green tee, I struggled to get my boots off of my swollen feet, and as I slid off my jeans, I couldn’t help but cry out when they peeled away from my thighs.
I bit my lip so Silas wouldn’t hear but his arms were soon wrapped around my chest.
“What’s wrong?”
I sniffled. “My legs are sore.”
“How bad is it?”
“It’s nothing. I’ll be fine,” I lied.
He sighed and let me go, dropping to his knees to help me out of my jeans. As he inspected my thighs, the crease between his eyebrows kept getting deeper. “They’re practically rubbed raw.”
Indeed, my skin was chafed bright red and bleeding slightly in a couple of places, and there was one small blister close to my knee where the seam of my jeans had been rubbing particularly hard.
