Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Slowly and continuing to speak, he takes a step closer. The calf stays still as it watches Radisson. He advances a few steps before something spooks the poor critter again and Radisson has to stop to prevent the animal from injuring itself in its struggle to be free. He speaks to the animal in what I can only assume to be hushed tones. The animal’s body relaxes by slow degrees, and when it appears calm enough, Radisson resumes moving.
Finally, when Radisson is close enough to put his arms around it, the calf yelps and shakes harder than ever. But Radisson strokes its back and its sides to get it to calm down. Bent over, he rubs circles around the calf’s flanks, while also inspecting where its leg is stuck. Still murmuring to the calf, he flings the rope over the animal and signals with his hand. A few ranch hands climb down to the stream while Radisson keeps the calf distracted and ropes it around the middle. When the men reach them, they grip the fallen trunk and Radisson throws his burly arms around the scared animal. On another signal from him, the men pull at the trunk while Radisson lifts the injured animal free.
A harrowing cry sounds from the calf as the pressure is lifted, and it struggles in Radisson’s arms. But somehow, he manages to keep his grip on the animal as he throws the other end of the rope to the hands waiting on the edge. When the calf is relatively calm—but still in pain; there’s a streak of blood on its hooves—Radisson hands it over to one of the men nearby as the others on the edge pull at the rope and help carry the calf up to the bank, safely and securely.
Again, there’s a lot of commotion around me, this time because everyone is relieved, and I realize my eyes are wet. My eyes are also locked on the man who just saved the day. I knew he would, but that doesn’t make what he did any less awe-worthy. Or any less painful. Wasn’t there a time when I thought that’s what he was: a savior? That no matter what, he’d always come to my rescue. What a stupid thought. He might be a savior for everyone else, but not for me. Not for the Turner Princess.
He’s still down at the stream, talking to some of the ranch hands, when I notice something. Something that I couldn’t have before because his face was covered. Now that it’s not, it’s so plain to see: People around him don’t look at him. Not really. They talk to him, these men who work under him; listen to him, all very diligently and respectfully, but they don’t look directly at him. They don’t look at his face, and if they do, they look away quickly. Like they can’t bear to see whatever is on there. They can’t bear to look at his scar, and I…
I want to scream.
I want to get up in their faces and demand that they look at him. I want to shake them and punch them and fucking kick them in the nuts for being so cruel and mean and just plain ignorant. Can’t they see how utterly beautiful he is? How capable and strong? How he was the one who saved the day. Him and no one else. Without him, they’d still be standing around being the waste of space they are, while that poor little animal would still be stuck and writhing in pain. A scar doesn’t change any of that. A scar doesn’t change him or define him. If anything, it’s a testament of his strength. It’s proof that he lived. He survived.
My angry thoughts come to a halt when he tips his face up and his eyes land on me. Even through the space, the force of his startling green stare is so potent that I have to take a step back. I have to clutch at my dress in tight fists when his stare moves. Takes my face in, which I’m sure is flushed and sweaty from everything that has gone on, before sliding down my throat and heaving chest to my belly and bare legs. I say “slide” because that’s what it feels like, smooth but also heavy and laden with intensity.
“Hey.”
I flinch at the greeting and quickly look away from him to acknowledge Haven still standing beside me. “Hey.”
That I was staring at Radisson hasn’t escaped her notice, and she watches me carefully. “Are you okay?”
I know what she’s asking about, but I try to distract her and pretend she’s referring to my bumpy ride on the ATV. “Yes, much better. Being outside helped, thanks. I didn’t, uh”—I tuck my hair behind my ear—“think I’d be this affected. I’ve ridden on an ATV before, I promise. This was total city girl behavior, huh.”