Tony had helped Brett to assemble the new bed and do other heavy lifting around the house on Sunday and when it was done she had insisted on sleeping in the new bed right away. She wondered about their relationship and didn't really know what to think about where it was at: Brett was attentive, kind, protective and constantly putting everything else on hold to be there for her. But she was not ready for any kind of relationship beyond being friends.
But yet a part of her knew they had moved beyond just being friends.
"Breakfast?" Brett asked.
"Mmm, just toast please," she said, stretching, "I'm still not sure I can eat much." It had been a very disturbing weekend with events she'd hoped never to encounter again. Memories had kept her awake much of the night despite the comfort of the mattress and the warm arms wrapped around her. Brett's presence had not kept the nightmares at bay this time: she kept seeing Jesse's cocky grin as he taunted her from behind the glass 'I will teach teach you your place...this time I'll kill you and have your corpse." He'd been calm when he'd said it. Like he'd been calm every time he'd beat her or forced himself into her. She'd dreamed memories that made her want to scream out, but she'd gritted her teeth and refused to call out, as if she were trying not to be heard now as she'd had to control her response then.
Brett got up and used the washroom before going to the kitchen to start breakfast: it was five in the morning. Looking out the window he could see lights on in the bunk and barns and was relieved the repair had been easy. Travis and the crew would see to the chores.
"Do you think Travis would let me help with something today? I need out of the house with something productive to do or I'll brood all day." Maisey had dressed in loose jeans and a light green t-shirt, and was braiding her hair loosely.
"Probably," Brett told her, "Trouble is it's all physical." He turned back to the counter where he had pulled out a plate.
"Right," she frowned, "What about water? I can hold a hose."
"Nothing to fill: the animals are still out grazing and all the fall crops are in." he glanced up and watched her face fall and sighed, "we could ride out and check the herd," he frowned, "I don't like it but I get that you need to change it up."
Maisey smiled and accepted the plate with buttered toast while she poured Brett's coffee so he could focus on scrambling his eggs. She dropped in 2 sugar cubes and sat at the newly finished table. She was proud of the work they'd done together on the table. The resin had been easier to work with than she'd thought, but it had been finding the right design: most of the ones she'd seen online were from live end wood, and she worried about wrecking it. She flipped open the app for the website where she'd been writing and out of habit looked at her own writing. The bottom corner said "Inbox 152". 152 messages. She must have made an audible noise because Brett came to stand behind her. She clicked on the inbox. There were notifications for comments and people adding her work to their libraries, but and a lot of notifications of daily reading. It had been three days since she had published the first part, and had set timers for the next six weeks worth of postings. There had been over 10,000 reads according to the website.
"Is that the writing you've been doing?" Brett asked, Maisey didn't respond: chewing a bite of toast while scanning the comments. Not all of them were constructive and she had to remind herself they didn't know it was real events, people thought it was all made up. She made a mental note to tell her therapist about this in their session that afternoon. People were actually reading her story.
Her finger hovered over the second book she'd written and decided to publish it too. This time she published the first ten chapters and set a daily release for the next week, she'd set more later. She had written her story as an escape: as a way to escape the emotional torment, she could hardly believe that so many people had actually read it.
Brett ate his eggs and showered, messaging Travis to let him know what they were going to do that morning. His phone pinged, "don't let her read today's news" Brett closed the bathroom door and loaded the Medicine Hat newspaper link that Travis sent him: Local Woman Beats Ranch Hand in Peeping Tom Incident. Brett read on feeling sicker as he read.
Local woman, Maisey Barnes, was brought in for questioning in the assault of employee James "Bandit" Barnes. Bandit is currently in hospital recovering from life threatening injuries after being beaten with what was reportedly a belt buckle. Sources say Bandit is the cousin of Luke Barnes, husband of Mrs. Barnes who is currently doing time for allegedly assaulting her. Doctors say Bandit's injuries are conducive to a severe and deliberate beating after the Sheriff questioned him about a peeping Tom incident. Jesse Barnes, brother of Luke Barnes and cousin to Bandit Barnes told this reporter that "Maisey is a delusional woman who was heavily medicated by her husband in order to subdue her violence." Luke Barnes faces life in prison because of "pathological lies told in court". Mrs Barnes was not arrested in the incident of Bandit Barnes but has been released on her on recognizance.
Brett was furious, the news article was full of lies. How had Jesse contacted news reporters while in jail? He needed to reach the sheriff but didn't dare call while Maisey was around. She was so excited about her writing, he didn't want her to see the scandalous article written about her by the reporter. He shoved his phone in his pocket and went out of the bathroom.
Maisey was still quite excited about the work she'd written and the comments it had gotten: she'd read many of them but just smiled as they drove across the Bogs to one of the far pastures.
"Alright city girl, let's give you a new experience to write about," Brett grinned as he stopped near where the herd was grazing on the fall grass. The ground was still wet from rain, "Counting cattle." At her confused look Brett handed her a small device, "This will scan the tags in their ears, it won't be perfect but it also won't allow you to count an animal twice. Go ahead and test it's limits," he told her.
Maisey planted her feet like she expected the little hand held device to knock her over. Brett grinned. The cattle ignored her. She noted the red color of their fur and wondered what type of cow they were, she remembered the ones from her childhood being black and white. It was early enough in the morning that many of the animals were still asleep and those awake were more interested in their breakfast than the small woman who started moving around them. As she went along she got further from Brett but Henry stayed faithfully at her side.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, leaning on the hood of the truck while he watched her creep around like she thought tiptoeing would startle them less. "Sheriff, I apologize for the early call but we've got a problem."
"Seen the news have you? I don't know who the hell the kid called but I haven't even left the station thanks to the circus he started down here. You keep her out there and don't go bringing her into town until I can sort this mess out."
Brett ran fingers through his hair in frustration, "It's online, I can't keep her from going online."
"Well you're going to need to try!" The Sheriff was tired and frustrated with the whole situation. "I've got a call into the editor and the owner, between them I'm going to get that removed. Any chance you can get ahold of her lawyer's information without asking?"
"Not likely," Brett admitted, wishing he could do more, "How long do you think I need to keep her busy?"
"As long as you can."
Brett exhaled, "Alright, I will do my best, call me when it's done." Brett hung up and pinched his nose between his thumbs while resting his head on them while he contemplated what he could do to keep Maisey away from the internet for the day. He wondered if it would matter, she would probably find out about it anyway from someone who had seen it or if it would change how people viewed her. A problem for later, he decided. For now he needed to keep her counting cows and doing menial tasks that weren't going to hurt her physically so that she didn't overdo things.
She was laughing. He didn't think he'd ever seen her really laugh without guarding herself or forcing it--she was laughing over counting cattle. Ned had raised Hereford's, a tradition that Brett intended to continue, but he'd always liked Angus and intended to add Red and Black herds as time went on.
Maisey couldn't help her laughter, she'd been trying to scan the same cow for several minutes but every time she would lock onto it's ear tag it would move it's head: first down to eat, then up to chew, then it looked the opposite way. She felt like one of those photographers who was trying to take a picture of a kid but he wouldn't sit still. "Is this seriously how you count the cows?" she asked when Brett got closer to her.
"No," he admitted, "We run the scanner on them when they come into the yard, not when they're out here, but you wanted something to do." That made her laugh harder. "We have about a six hundred head of Herefords," he told her, "This is just one of the herds."
"Are they all that rust color?" she asked.
"For now," he told her, "eventually we'll add other breeds and cross breed."
"Why?"
"Different beef has different flavor and tenderness, "I'm sure you've noticed that before when you've eaten steak."
"A little," she admitted, "I don't think I ever cared about that."
"Well, Wagu and Angus have the best reputations for steak, Hereford is better for chuck and ground. Keep scanning, now that you've started you can't quit. There should be about eighty in this herd."
"I've only scanned thirteen."