The fields were muddy, the hay bent over, and the animals’ hooves grew soft and spongy. Only a few pieces of the landscape remained above the mud. Our vehicles tore up the pastures as we slogged over them to check on horses, cattle, or the hay crop. Weather service said today ended the soggiest June in a decade. While all around me Mother Nature had gone soft, I was determined to harden my resolve—enough of contemplating something I never intended to experience and therefore a fulfillment I wouldn’t miss. I was so determined to put a wall between Cash Tate and my strange urges that perhaps I overreacted, always crossing the living room with a purpose rather than lingering to talk, spending lots of time in the barn and making several trips into town so I could keep my physical and emotional distance from her. Perry had his own relationship issues as he cussed the skies, the hay, and Bo Nightengale, who got on his nerves as a bunkhouse partner.
