Last Chance Rebel

“I’d like to ease that.”

She stopped, whipping around. “Not your privilege.”

“Does standing on principle ever get uncomfortable?”

“Standing in general is uncomfortable, asshole. Why is that?” She turned away again, her words hitting their target even as she continued on toward hers.

She disappeared into the stable, and by the time he entered behind her she was already holding a pitchfork.

“Are you going to stab me with that or are you going to start cleaning stalls?”

“It’s up for debate.”

He grabbed a hold of his own pitchfork, heading to a stall at the opposite end. “I’m still going to help. You have to get to work, and so do I. This is my property, and if you’re going to work for me, then you’re going to help me in a way that makes sense to me.”

She nodded once, her expression fierce. She seemed much more able to take orders than she was able to take charity. Even though, in his estimation, it would never be charity.

How could it be?

“Does Ace know?”

The sound of her voice on the other side of the stall surprised him. He pushed the pitchfork down into the shavings. “Does he know what?”

“Does he know that you caused my accident?”

“Nobody does.” The words fell flat in the mostly quiet room. The only sound was the horses swishing and flicking their tails and nickering softly.

That response made him feel...well, more ashamed than he had imagined it could. Everyone knew what she’d been through, more or less. She wore the evidence of that time all those years ago on her skin. He didn’t. And sure, he had left town, had left his family, but if he didn’t want anyone to know, then they wouldn’t know.

Rebecca didn’t have that luxury.

Her response surprised him more than his own did. “Good.”

“What you mean?”

“I don’t like to talk about it. I don’t really want anyone knowing my business. At first, I didn’t talk about it because of the hush money your dad paid. But, at this point, I’m just more comfortable with people not knowing the particulars.”

“Why is that?” He was genuinely curious. Curious as to what she got out of hiding the details. She could point at him, scream at him and have him strung up in the town square if she wanted to. And yet, she seemed to have no interest in it.

Well, she seemed to have an interest in screaming at him, but mostly in private.

“Maybe I don’t have a choice about whether or not people know I was in an accident. It’s pretty obvious. But I don’t need people to know everything about me. I don’t need them all up in that.”

“Distance,” he said. “I get that.”

“It’s hard to get privacy in this damn town.”

“Why are you here then?” He looked up, his eyes connecting with the wall that separated them.

“Because it’s my home. Why should I leave just because people are difficult? Or because you made things hard for me?”

She really was stubborn. And angry. He couldn’t blame her for either. “I suppose you shouldn’t have to.”

“I love it here,” she said, stubborn. “And I’m proud of everything I’ve accomplished. People like me... We’re not supposed to be able to end up owning businesses.”

“People like you?”

“Poor people.” Her answer was simple and to the point.

“Who says that?”

“Everyone. Though, sometimes especially other poor people. It seems like people don’t want you to get too far ahead of yourself sometimes. Don’t want you to be too ambitious. They say it’s because you’ll only be disappointed, but sometimes I think it’s just because they’re afraid of being left behind.”

She was more comfortable with this. A discussion that wasn’t focused specifically on her.

“But you did it anyway.”

She laughed. “Well, I’m not exactly rich. But my business supports itself, and I have a house. I don’t know what else you really need.”

“A fancier house? Fancy car, vacations to tropical islands.”

“I live alone, I own a truck and can you imagine me on a tropical island? It’s not like I’m going to wander around in a bikini.” There was that bitter edge to her voice again.

“So you’re content. That’s pretty unusual.”

There was a long silence. “Yeah,” she said finally, “I guess I am. More content than a lot of people.”

“But also sort of angry.”

“I’ve earned that.”

He finished up with the stall and walked out into the main part of the stable at the same time Rebecca did.

“All right,” he said, “why don’t I help you get the first one saddled up?”

She glared at him. “I don’t need help with tack, thank you.”

“Well, since you don’t have a lot of time, what if I go ahead and get Deuce ready and we’ll go on a ride together.”

He could tell that she had no interest in that whatsoever, but that she also couldn’t figure out a position from which to argue. She didn’t have that much time, and she wanted both of the horses ridden, so she might as well accept his help. He could see all of that in the slight contortions of her facial muscles, her dark brows snapping together, the corners of her lips tugging down in a frown. That frown pulled at the scar tissue on one side of her face and he felt an answering pull inside of himself.

“It’s settled then,” he said, knowing that in Rebecca’s estimation it was far from settled, but that she wasn’t going to argue.

They got the horses ready to go and he watched as she got herself into the saddle effortlessly. She had been sore yesterday, but she seemed much better today, which was a relief to him. Watching her limp, knowing that he was the cause of it... Well, it really was no more than he deserved. And in this instance, he was the cause of it in more than one way. But she was also refusing to do this a different way.

“Where did you ride yesterday?” he asked, bringing his horse alongside hers as they headed up on the trail that went behind his house.

“I just went up this way,” she said, gesturing ahead. “I like the view. And... I like to ride. I don’t have a horse right now so...so this is nice.”