Total pages in book: 248
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 236036 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1180(@200wpm)___ 944(@250wpm)___ 787(@300wpm)
Chapter Ten
Grady had Sage sit down on a bale of hay so he could take care of her foot. It turned out hay was just as prickly as it looked, and her pajama shorts did nothing to protect her bottom and the backs of her legs.
“You’ve got a small cut on your foot,” he said, “probably from one of those spilled nails. Have you had a tetanus shot recently?”
“Yes, Daddy. The Haven Agency makes us stay up to date on all our shots because we work with children.”
“Good. Let me clean it and put a bandage on it.”
“It feels like it went all the way through my foot.”
“It was just a scratch, like I said. A small bandage will take care of it.”
Within just a minute or two, Grady had cleaned and dressed the wound. “Stand up and let’s see how it feels.”
Sage stood up and put her full weight on it. “It feels great, doesn’t hurt at all.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, Daddy.”
“You’re absolutely sure?” he repeated.
“Absolutely, positively sure.” To prove her point, she bounced on her heels. “It feels good as new.”
“Good, then you march your butt straight over to that corner and think long and hard about following the rules while I straighten up.” He pointed to the corner closest to her.
Arrgh! She hated corner time. “But, Daddy, don’t you need my help cleaning up?”
The way he scowled back at her had her thinking the answer to that was probably no. Hmmm. And the fact he just looked pointedly at her, then at the corner, turned that probably into a most definite no.
The butterflies in her tummy started jostling. She didn’t like the general direction this was going. “Um… you know, my foot does feel a little…”
If her Daddy’s eyes got any narrower, they were going to be closed.
“Corner. Now.”
Yep, that was definitely his angry voice.
Sage bit her lip, her bottom already tingling in anticipation as she scurried over to the corner and began staring at a piece of wood holding two beams together. She felt vulnerable, exposed.
Clinks from the bucket and noises from Buttercup’s stall were her only indication of what Grady was up to. She supposed he was settling the horses and gathering up the nails. It wasn’t fair when she thought about it. Buttercup should be the one in the corner, not her.
Whatever he was doing took forever. She’d named every splinter in the board in front of her by the time he finished.
“Turn around, Wildfire,” he said. He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to.
She turned to face him. Her breathing was rapid, and she nibbled at her bottom lip. His face did not look any happier. “I-I’m sorry—”
Grady held up his hand, cutting her off mid-sentence. The muscles of his jaw flexed, and his forest-green eyes held such disappointment that she almost burst into tears on the spot.
“Just tell me one thing. Why the hell are you in the barn instead of asleep in your bed where you should be?” he demanded.
She looked around quickly, hoping maybe someone had written a better answer on the walls. One that would get her out of this mess. When nothing appeared, she cleared her throat. “I, um… I couldn’t get to sleep,” she said, “so I thought I’d practice what you taught me today. I didn’t mean for the horses to wake you up. You should give them a stern talking to.”
She’d known he might be mad if he caught her, but he didn’t look just mad. He looked furious. She fought not to confess everything and beg his forgiveness. What she’d done hadn’t been that bad.
Maybe.
All she’d wanted was to do something to fit in so he’d see she should stay on the ranch. Thought that if she showed him how she’d learned to ride, he’d know she belonged with him and Rosie. Could she help it if things turned out the exact opposite of her plans?
Grady tried to count to ten. She knew because she could see his lips moving. She’d never seen anyone actually count to ten. Unfortunately, he only made it to five, and she wasn’t sure if that was good or bad.
“You left the house, without permission, after nine o’clock at night. What time is your curfew?”
Rats. She knew he’d bring that up. Doing her best not to shuffle her feet, she said, “Um… to be fair, I was in the house by curfew. You never said anything about not going back out later. Would you like me to help you lecture the horses?”
The vein at his temple began to pulse. “Is that really the tack you want to take? The only one in this barn who’s in trouble is you, Wildfire, and trust me when I tell you no one is getting off with a stern talking to. Here's your one chance to try again. What time is your curfew?”