You yell. Mr. Sullivan, Margaret called as he reached the door. He turned back in the lamplight with a storm raging outside. The three women looked like something out of a ghost story, pale, desperate, clinging to each other for warmth and comfort.
Thank you. Jake nodded once and stepped out into the storm. As he fought his way back to the house, he couldn't shake the feeling that his quiet, solitary life had just become a great deal more complicated inside the house. He stoked the fire and settled into his chair. But sleep wouldn't come.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Margaret's bloodied knuckles, Rose's wild defiance, Catherine's terrified tears. He'd built this life on staying out of other people's trouble, minding his own business, and keeping to himself. But something about those three women in his barn had already begun to crack that resolve. The storm raged on, battering the ranch with winds that threatened to tear the roof clean off. Jake sat by the window, watching the barn, rifle across his lap.
Whatever those sisters were running from, he had a feeling it would come looking. And when it did, Jake Sullivan would have to decide what kind of man he really was. The kind who protected his own peace at any cost, or the kind who stood between the helpless and harm, no matter the consequences. As lightning split the sky once more, illuminating the ranch in stark, brutal clarity, Jake knew in his bones that his decision was already made. Dawn broke harsh and brilliant.
The storm having scoured the sky clean. Jake stepped out of the house, boots squishing in the red mud that yesterday had been dust. The landscape looked wounded, grass flattened, fence posts askew, debris scattered across the yard, but the barn still stood, and that was what mattered. He found the sisters already awake, helping to calm the horses that remained skittish from the night's violence. Margaret had her sleeves rolled up, revealing more bruises along her forearms as she brushed down a nervous mare.
Rose was mucking out stalls with practiced efficiency, while Catherine distributed feed, speaking softly to each animal. "You know, horses," Jake observed, not quite making it a question. Margaret glanced up, weariness flickering across her features before she nodded. "We grew up around them. Not many women handle a pitchfork like that, Jake said, watching Rose work, she paused, turning to face him with that same challenging look from the night before.
Not many women have to, she replied, resuming her task with perhaps more vigor than necessary. Jake let it pass. He grabbed his own tools and set to work alongside them, noting how they moved with the easy coordination of people who'd worked together all their lives. Nobody spoke much, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was the quiet of shared labor, of hands busy with honest work.
The sun climbed higher, turning the mud to a sticky mess that clung to everything. Jake noticed Catherine struggling with a heavy water bucket and moved to help, but Rose beat him to it, taking the burden from her younger sister with a gentle admonishment, Jake couldn't quite hear. She's not built for this kind of work, Margaret said quietly. Suddenly, beside him. Catherine.
I mean, she's delicate. Jake studied the youngest sister. There was indeed something fragile about her. Something that went beyond her slight frame. The way she startled at sudden noises.
The way her hands trembled slightly even when she tried to hide it. "She's doing fine," he said finally. Margaret's mouth tightened. She shouldn't have to. By midday, the barn was in better shape than it had been before the storm.
Jake found himself impressed despite himself. "These women knew how to work and work hard," even Catherine, for all her apparent frailty, hadn't complained once. "You'll stay for dinner," Jake said as they finished. It wasn't a question. "We've imposed enough," Margaret began.
But Rose cut her off. We're hungry, Maggie, she said bluntly. And he's offering Margaret. Maggie apparently, shot her sister a quelling look. But Rose just shrugged.