“Does someone want to explain to me why the state of Wyoming continues to be the sole cause of my lack of productivity?” Foster re-emerged from behind the side door, pausing briefly to leave the copious amounts of winter clothing he’d dressed in where they belonged. He’d only gone out for five minutes or so after coming in with Caroline earlier, yet he’d dressed as if he were going out to survive armageddon. He returned with his entire file cabinet, which he struggled to drag in. He placed it down in the corner of the living room, avoiding the odd looks he was getting from everyone. “What?” He shrugged, sitting down on the floor, still in professional clothing as if they wouldn’t be snowed in for the foreseeable future. “Gotta do something until the power comes back on.”

He paused briefly after not hearing any further jesting about his workaholic tendencies or his inability to unplug and ‘have fun’ (whatever that means) and realized the air was tense. He thought he’d heard someone pull out of the driveway when he was in the office, but he hadn’t even bothered to look up. That’d just be plain stupid in this weather. “What happened to you all, you could cut the air with a knife.” When he examined the group, he realized there were now four missing, and with a knowing sigh, resigned to the fact that Chase was plain stupid. “Got it,” he answered his own question, going back to tinkering away at his cabinet. “Don’t mind me, I’m just gonna sit over here and organize my files.”

Cheyenne’s eyes had met Sebastian’s what felt like minutes ago. She’d been studying the intricate designs of his irises, trying to find a way to decline his offer that wouldn’t cause him to believe she was doing so because she was mad at him. Sure, she’d seen more than her share of Bastian outbursts today, and sure, some of them scared her, but that didn’t make her fear him. In fact, she liked the Sebastian that was reacting violently more than the Sebastian that was stone cold and unreadable. Still, she didn’t want him to see just how badly she’d been injured, she didn’t want to cause him more stress on top of everything else that had happened.

When Foster came in, he broke their gaze briefly, and the look he’d exchanged with Cheyenne before he’d spoken about his own antics was unmistakable. That was twice now that a brother of hers had made reference to the pair, and though she knew she spent a lot of hours with him each day, she still couldn’t figure out what they were seeing that she wasn’t. She wondered if she was just blind because it involved her, and if his sisters noticed anything or said anything when she wasn’t around. From her point of view, she couldn’t even establish a comfortable friendship with him without feeling like she was putting in excessive effort and failing to break through his layers. Sure, they were managing as a partnership, but she still hadn’t found a way to get through to him. She wondered if she ever would, at least in this lifetime.

“I- uh- don’t worry about it, really. I’m fine.”

“Cheyenne,” Foster started, without even turning back from his files. “With all due respect, you look like you were victim number one in a horror movie. Let the man help.”

She didn’t miss the glance he exchanged with Caroline, and immediately wanted to ask more questions. Unfortunately for her, her head had been swimming for the last hour, and her legs felt like jelly. She was in no condition to take that on. “I, uh, can’t.” Foster seemed more than amused, his back to the situation but his face loud. He heard Cheyenne’s footsteps leading towards the sink, then the faucet ran. Surely she was washing some of the blood off of her hands and arms, and maybe even her face if she had gauze nearby. A couple of the cuts were deep enough that if she tried to wash them, they might bleed more. He almost warned her of that when he heard the clattering of a dish in the sink, Cheyenne barely leaning over the counter as if she’d faint at any minute if it wasn’t there to keep her upright. He then heard Sebastian get up, helping her to the couch. He sounded gentler than Foster was used to, and also much more concerned. Foster glanced back to see Sebastian looking at her concernedly while she avoided his eyes. “The cuts and bruises aren’t that deep, I’ve just lost a lot of blood.” She took her jacket off, revealing a white t-shirt with splotches of blood in various places from different places she’d hit the fence on impact. What wasn’t red was blue or yellow with heavy bruising. While very little of it was life-threatening, seeing just her face and arms showed a clearer picture of the gravity of the fall and just how much pain she’d been pushing through for the last few hours. She winced, trying to move her right arm. “And, the more the adrenaline wears off, the more I’m starting to realize this is sprained.”

—

Meanwhile at the cabin, Joseph sat with his back to the fireplace, watching Penny with a neutral expression. He’d left his hat hung on the rack by the door, his dark hair matted with a mixture of sweat and melted snow. He was growing heated since he was still in his outer layers, but he needed to make sure the young woman he’d rescued was still alive, alert, and awake before he tended to his own needs. He was glad to see her able to make coherent thoughts in real time, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a concussion, and it didn’t mean she was out of the woods quite yet. He didn’t want to take any chances, considering the lengths he’d already gone to in order to protect her. He knew Sebastian would have his head if anything happened to his sister.

“Well, that makes two of us,” he replied, scratching the back of his head. That wasn’t entirely true, but he’d seen the tension in the exchanges between Penelope’s siblings, and part of him didn’t want her to remember. He didn’t know how she’d react, and any extra anxiety on top of what he expected would result from being in a cabin in the woods miles from the ranch might drive her–or him–to the brink of insanity. It was easier, at least for now, to keep her in the dark. For as long as her brain would allow that, anyway. “How are you feeling? Does anything hurt other than your head?”

Getting up from his seat beside her, he took off his waterproof layer and hung it by the door. He heard a scratching noise at the door and opened it, allowing in a big black cat. He looked well cared for, but his fluffy coat was slick and wet from the snow. He glanced back at Penny, ice blue eyes scanning her understandably perplexed features. “Just Max,” he wrote it off coolly, “came to check up on his cat family in the other room. His cat wife just had kittens last week, you’re welcome to see them when you’re up to it. We’re gonna be here a while, not like there’s anything to do other than play with them and wait for the snow to let up.”

After he finished doing what he was doing, he blew out the candle in the small cabin kitchen, leaving only the light of the fire and the gray light coming in from the big windows in the sunroom. He didn’t want to waste what they had, and, more importantly, he didn’t want her snooping around, seeing any of his art or his writing. Not that he could hold off the questions for long, he knew by first light, she’d see everything plastered on the walls and on the easels and desk, and he’d have to answer more questions than he really desired to.

Finding his place beside her once more, his icy gaze fell distant. He was pensive, mind wandering. After a good minute or two, his attention returned to the present moment, and he said casually, “I trust you’ll let me know if you need anything. There’s plenty of deer meat and eggs in the cellar, ‘reckon it’ll last us ‘s long as we need. I’m hoping to go out in the morning and see if the trail is clear enough to get us back early, but it’ll likely be more like a few days.” He gestured to the shelves above them. “There’s plenty to read, if you’re the readin’ type. Sadly for you, they’re all written by somebody with the last name of Bichler. Me, or my dad, or his dad, or one of the other men going all the way back.” He glanced around uncomfortably, adding, “you might learn more than you want to about the people your sister’s’n business with, but it’s not like there’s much else to do.” He glanced around again, trying to mentally wrap his mind around the idea of having to share this small space with another person for an indefinite amount of time. He knew exactly how to keep himself occupied for days, but another person? A young woman he barely knew who wasn’t Cheyenne or Annie? “Oh, and if you have any questions. Meaning of life, incident-related, family-related, weather-related, feel free to ask. I’m an open book with a lot of blank pages.”

–

“Can’t this wait until the morning,” Chase mocked in a high-pitched voice, rolling his eyes. He’d already put his truck into gear, driving in the direction of town. “Listen to yourself, it’s almost like you’re stranded on the side of the road with no help, not safely in the passenger seat of a big ass truck with four wheel drive that’s being driven by the best driver in seven of Wyoming’s counties.” He lowered his voice, eyes filled with mischief. “I’m probably banned from all the other ones.”

“Sleeping in the truck? Girl, have some faith. Jesus. God. I can’t even talk to you right now.”

Seconds later, she resigned to his plan, as she would have been forced to regardless. He faked amusement with her statement, taking one hand off the wheel to wave it around dramatically. “You consider me someone you can talk to? Well let’s just pull over now, I think the back seat’s spacious enough to do trust falls and braid each other’s hair, shall we?” He glanced over at her, then gestured to the water bottle in the console between them. “I think there’s vodka in that, feel free to talk to it if you get lonely. Liquor’s the best listener I know. Much better than me, I’m afraid. Especially if you ask Cheyenne. What’s going on between her and your brother, anyway? He’s an attack dog on a short leash, isn’t he? Or however that saying goes.” He broke hard, skidding and narrowly avoiding another car. He gestured his hands around wildly. “What kind of imbecile’s out driving in this? Won’t survive a quarter mile.”

Not twenty minutes later, Chase made good on his promise and got them safely to town, minus some questionable driving moments that were primarily unavoidable. He parked in the middle of the gas station in town, taking a moment to scan the surroundings. Everything was empty, lights off everywhere. “Nobody’s working, after all that? What has this world come to? Nobody in this generation has ever heard of a strong work ethic. Back in my day…” He trailed off, thinking while he spoke. His phone buzzed in the middle of his thought. It was Foster.

[Foster]: If you can find somewhere to stay the night in town, do it. Don’t come back, the roads here are too bad. There’s been two accidents already within a mile of the ranch. It’s chaos. Don’t tell Cheyenne I said not to come back, even though I know you will anyway.

[Chase]: Rodger that.

He glanced over at Jess smugly, a big grin on his face. “Guess what, Princess,” he mocked, “you’re stuck with me. Foster said there’s a pileup near the ranch, and that we’ll never make it home. So, you and I, we’re going to participate in some partially-illegal late-night activities.” He gestured to the ghost town around them, “or, you can freeze to death in here, if that’s the kind of thing you’re into. I’m breaking into Joseph’s work, because it’s the only place in this damned town with a generator and alcohol. Coming?”

Sebastian had heard Foster reenter the house, but he didnt turn to look at him. Instead, when the door opened he just dropped his eyes to the floor, and remained standing where he was, looking at nothing in particular below him. Part of his mind whispered that he shouldn't have offered to help Cheyenne. Not because he didn’t want to, he did want to make sure she was okay, but because he thought he should have known better then to ask if she wanted his help. Of course she didn’t want his help, not anymore. He could have asked Caroline. Or even offered to get Ellie, not that he wanted to go see her at the moment either. Someone who wasn’t him.

She walked away from him, and he couldn't make himself look up to watch her leave. Now who’s the stupid one… he thought to himself, a painfully vivid flashback of his outburst at Ellie playing for the millionth time through his head. The banging of something in the sink drew him out of his private pity party, and his head snapped up.

Seconds later, he was standing behind Cheyenne, so close that her hair was sticking to his shirt just in case she did fall. He put a hand lightly on her back, just below her shoulder blades, to steady her. “Please, just let me help.” He said softly. “I know you don’t want my help, you don’t even need to look at me.” Slowly, he stepped around the side of her, his hand still on her back, and turned her cautiously away from the sink and towards the loveseat. “Chase was right, this is the only useful thing I can do now. So, please?” He was barely speaking above a whisper, but he was so close to her, afraid she might faint, that he was sure she could hear him just fine. He didn’t really give her an option to refuse him, instead he continued to take small steps towards the loveseat until they had reached it, and then he helped her lower herself into the chair. He knelt on the floor in front of her, and watched as she pulled off her jacket.

As soon as her no longer white shirt came into full view he felt his face change, regret spreading clearly across his features. “I wish you wouldn’t have told me you were fine in the barn…” he should have known better than to believe her when she said she was fine. She didn’t look fine when she came back into the barn, and she certainly didn’t look fine now. He could feel tears begin to well up in his eyes, teetering dangerously on his eyelashes, threatening to fall. He swallowed hard, looked away, and cleared his throat.

“Care, could you go get a shirt out of my room, please? I don't care which one, I won’t miss it. And the first aid kit from the bathroom, please.” he looked away from Cheyenne and over his shoulder at his oldest sister, who still hadn't moved from her spot by the counter. Now, he could see, she was leaning against it, her back to the counter and her hands on either side holding the edge, her eyes watching him like a hawk, narrowed with intent to kill. They softened a fraction when she registered his request, or maybe she could see the wet shine of his eyes. She dropped her head once in a nod and turned to leave the room on long strides.

Sebastian scrubbed the backs of his hands over his eyes quickly, trying to make it look like he was just rubbing sleep out of them, and turned back to Cheyenne, looking at her ruined shirt and not at her face.

“When Care comes back we’ll get you some painkillers if you’d like, alright? Just try and sit still, I’ll go get some ice for your shoulder.” If had been one of his sisters he would have given them a reassuring pat on the knee as he stood, but it wasn’t so he didn’t. He didn’t think a pat on the knee would do much good for Cheyenne at that moment. Instead, once again, he dropped his eyes to the floor and went to the freezer, pulling out a couple large, frozen gel packs, and wrapping them in a clean dish towel to keep the frost on the outside of the packs off her skin.

When he went back over to the loveseat, he offered the pack to her, afraid to touch her sore shoulder himself.

__________

Caroline returned with a plain black, long sleeve tee shirt that was well worn and more than a little stretched out, which she had recovered from the top shelf of Sebastian’s closet. It wasn’t the nicest shirt, it probably wasn’t even a shirt Sebastian knew he still had, but that was why she chose it. No sense in getting blood on something nice when this was available.

She walked through the doorway into the room with the others to see Foster still with his back to the others, Sebastian on the floor in front of the loveseat, and Cheyenne was seated in front of him. Caroline walked towards Sebastian, hoping he wouldn't turn to look at her. She couldn’t stay mad enough to scold him for upsetting Ellie if he looked at her with tear-filled eyes again, not today.

Without saying anything she set the first aid kit, which was contained in a large white duffle bag nearly exploding at the seams with supplies of all sorts, down on the floor beside Sebastian, and set the shirt on the arm of the seat next to Cheyenne. When she had unloaded her hands, she turned her backs to them and went over to where Foster was seated with his paperwork, and knelt beside him, folding her hands into her lap.

“Anything I can help you with, partner?” She offered him a smile, a smile that couldn’t make its way to her eyes because of the stress of the day and the worry that was gnawing on her heart. “You’re right about needing something to do until the power comes on.” Something to keep my thoughts at bay…

___________________

Despite the damp in her clothes, Penelope was finally starting to warm up beneath the blanket she had been given. She kept it pulled up all the way to her neck, her hands balled in the fabric below her chin. She kept her eyes open, sometimes watching the flames dance in the fireplace, and sometimes watching Joseph. She eyed him almost curiously, wondering how he had found her. Even she didn’t know where she had been, and she was the one who got herself there.

When he asked how she was feeling, she laughed, almost sarcastically. “I feel like a bag of smashed potatoes, everything hurts. Nothing bad, I’m just sore and stiff. Bastian would tell me to just walk it off, I’m sure.” She laughed again, smiling this time as she watched Joseph get up and remove some of his extra clothing. She thought absently about her siblings, wondered if they knew where she was, that she was with someone and out of the weather.

The scratching at the door startled her out of her thoughts, and it startled her even more how willingly he opened it. They were in the middle of nowhere, in relentless weather, what could possibly want in with them? Nothing good, she thought. She started to her feet, but barely got herself propped up on her elbows behind her when she realised it was a cat who had scratched at the door. A cat? What was a cat doing wandering in this weather? “I didn’t know you had kittens, it's sweet of you to house them.” she said as she settled herself back down after his explanation of Max and his cat family.

“I’ve never eaten deer. I’m sure Max approves though.” She said calmly when he mentioned their provisions. It wasn't that she didn’t like it, or even that she didn’t want to, Sebastian just wasn’t much of a hunter. None of the men in her family were, as far as she knew. If they couldn’t get it at the supermarket, they didn’t eat it. “Maybe when you go out to check the trail tomorrow, I’ll browse your library. With your permission of course, I’m sure your writing is beautiful.” She was beginning to feel bad watching him so closely, but there was little else she could see and she didn't want to look out the windows, look at the snow that was sealing them away.

“I do have one question, actually… Does anyone know you found me? They must know I’m gone, you wouldn’t be here if no one knew…right?” She hoped someone knew he was out here too, safe in the cabin.

___________________

Jess laughed and shook her head, raising a finger. “First, Betty is a wonderful truck. She may only be two wheel drive and she may be on the verge of death in this weather, but she is a good truck! A consistent truck.” consistently breaking down, maybe… “But you’re right, she’s got nothing on this.” She smiled, looking over at him and then raising a second finger. “And second, if you wanted me to braid your hair you could have just asked, hun.” She reached a hand across the cab and touched a strand of his hair before dropping her hands back into her lap.

When he mentioned the water bottle that didn’t contain water, she eyed it suspiciously, momentarily pushing away the comment about her brother. “Pretty sure the police wouldn’t appreciate that. Y’know, open alcohol within reach of the driver. Let me just…” She grabbed the water bottle from where it stood in the console and tossed it over the back of her seat, hearing it hit the seat behind her and bounce to the floor out of reach and out of sight. She than sighed, deciding to address Sebastian.

“I wouldn’t call him an attack dog; they’re violent, scary. Bastian isn’t like that. If anything, he’s more of a guard dog, waiting and watching and ready to jump in the moment something goes south. He just doesn’t want to see anyone get hurt… and sometimes that means pushing people away before they get the chance.” She ended with a casual shrug, but the expression on her face didn’t quite match it. She hadn’t really thought about Sebastian’s behaviour much, it was more of something she just coexisted with, never bothering to find the reasoning behind it. But as she tried to explain it to Chase, the pieces started falling into place. She spent the rest of their drive into town thinking about Sebastian, and all the rest of her siblings, and their weird, little quirks.

“Back in your day?” She laughed. “Oh bud, you’ve got the wrong audience for that kinda thinking.” She was going to keep teasing him about his age, and how he wasn't old enough to have a ‘back in my days’ kind of story, but she fell silent when he pulled out his phone, knowing better than to try and talk to him when his attention was elsewhere. There was no point just making noise. She watched him type a quick response to whatever it was he had read, and then look up at her, that damned smirk of a smile on his face again.

“…So, you and I, we’re going to participate in some partially-illegal late-night activities.”

Her eyes went wide. “We’re… what? You can’t just-!” she started, and then realised who she was talking to. He could, and he would, she was sure. And it was too cold to stay outside, like he had mentioned.

“Your brother better not get in trouble because of us.” was all she said as she followed him inside.

It was more than a surprise to her when she turned to have Sebastian beside her. She’d smelled the familiar mix of the outdoorsy barn smell and his cologne before she’d even noticed him, but by the time she did, he had one hand on her lower back, guiding her gently. She turned when he started speaking, his voice so soft she barely heard him. She thought it was a figment of her imagination, a side effect of her injuries that indicated much worse. When she turned, though, their bodies were so close she couldn’t help drawing in a soft breath. She couldn’t say whether it was out of fear or something more, and she didn’t want to, because she knew the answer was the latter.

She watched him whisper “please,” with her own eyes, but still, it was difficult to comprehend his statement because of how gently he whispered it. Regardless of their physical proximity, this was the most intimate look she’d ever had into Bastian. This was the first time he’d let himself be vulnerable in front of her, and she was struggling to let it mean nothing. Not with the way they were inches apart with his hand on her body, and not with the way they were staring into each other’s eyes like it meant something. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes pained, and she almost reached out to touch his face, to do something that would attempt to take his pain away. Her heart swelled with empathy and the emotions that were running high all around the room. She stumbled again, only then breaking the unspoken communication between their eyes, falling forward and letting him brace her fall. She inhaled sharply, recoiling one arm out of pain, but leaving the other grasping onto his forearm. She thought she felt his muscles twitch beneath her touch, but she was in too much pain from the impact of her banged up arm to know for certain. After standing herself back up, she allowed him to guide her back to the loveseat with no further complaints.

The room was spinning, and despite every effort she wanted to take to regain her independence, she knew his steady guiding was the only thing keeping her upright. She’d wobbled a couple times on the short walk, and every time, he’d been there to keep her on her feet. She watched his expression change back to that of heavy guilt and pain, and her own heart dropped. She could feel the angst radiating off of him, and she would have done anything to make it better.

“I wish you wouldn’t have told me you were fine in the barn…”

“A tip for the future,” Foster piped up from his seat on the floor across the room from them. “First thing you should know about Cheyenne is that she’ll never tell you if she’s not okay, if she needs help, or if she’s dying. Not that we have any experience with the last one, but I assure you she’d harbor that news ‘til her dying breath.”

“That’s not true! I-”

“Don’t lie to yourself. Remember that time your ice skate cut through your foot and you didn’t tell any of us you went to the hospital until your coach called us the next day? You were fifteen and you said you were staying at a friend’s house.”

“That’s different.”

“Hardly.”

“I’m just surprised that out of all the horses, it was Westley that did this. He’s such a saint, normally. It wasn’t his fault though, I shouldn’t have tried to ride at all. I should have heeded Joseph’s warning.” She went silent for a few moments muttering a solemn, “I hope he’s okay, wherever he is.”

Sebastian called for Caroline to get one of his shirts from his room, and when he looked back, there were wet smudges below his eyes. She didn’t think he was crying, but when he spoke again–something about painkillers–his voice was unusually raw. It sounded different, off. Without thinking, she extended her good arm, cupping his face with her cheek and wiping the smudges with her thumb. “You’re okay,” she said it softly enough that no one else heard. She didn’t want to embarrass him. “I’m okay, everything is gonna be okay.”

Again, his eyes were glued to the floor, to her bruised and broken body, to anything other than her eyes. She tried not to take it personally, but in the end, she did. She took everything personally, especially when it involved Sebastian. She murmured a word or two of gratitude when he brought the ice pack over, wincing as she placed it on her wrist, then her elbow, then her shoulder, rotating between the three joints. She’d fallen in such a way that her arm had gotten caught in the fence, and each area of her arm felt just as bad as the other, though she was certain not all three were actually equally injured.

“Has anyone heard from Chase?”

Foster glanced up. “Yeah, actually. He texted a few minutes ago, said he and Jess are fine and made it off the roads, but they’re stranded in town overnight. They’re camping out in the shop because the generator is on, and they’ll be back in the morning. I guess the roads got too bad, too many accidents.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like Chase.”

“I guess there’s a little humanity left in him yet.”

Cheyenne glanced over to Sebastian, but realized he wouldn’t have the same knowledge as Joseph about Foster’s lying and strange manipulation tactics. She wondered where he was, and if he and Penelope were okay. She knew no news was good news when it came to him, and lots of news was good news when it came to Chase. Still, something didn’t sit right with Foster’s story. She wondered if there was more to it. Even if there was, it was doubtful he’d admit it.

—

Meanwhile on the floor, Foster agreed to let Caroline help, much to Cheyenne’s surprise. “Yeah,” he consented, laying out some folders. In extremely neat handwriting, they were labeled with different things. Some were business transactions, horse sales, and liability agreements, others were just names. Many were labeled by year, on top of name.

Cheyenne saw what Foster was doing, and immediately fixated on it. “Foster, do you still have all dad’s old pictures in there?”

He drew in a slow, hesitant breath. “Among other things, yeah.”

“Can you move your little work station closer? I want to see.”

He handed the stack of files over to Caroline and lifted the file cabinet, putting it in the center of the living room. With Sebastian’s help she slid to the floor, her back against the loveseat. Foster slid her a stack of pictures, telling her that if she was going to look, she might as well make herself useful.

As she sorted, she came across pictures of the siblings as younger children, complete with two other young children, a boy and a girl. Many of the pictures were labeled in the back with handwriting that wasn’t Foster’s, telling the ages of the children alongside their names. She slid the ones with just the reddish-haired boy towards the Mitchell folder, and the ones of the darker-haired girl towards the Brooke folder, waiting for one of the two Edwards’ siblings to ask the inevitable question and get hit with the uncomfortable truth of the answer.

Before she could, Foster slid one of her engagement photos over to her. She was standing in front of the eiffel tower with a tall, well-dressed man. They were both beaming, faces lit up by the Paris lights. The sky was clear, but there was snow on the ground, and they looked extremely happy. He slid another picture over from the same sequence, this one with the man actually proposing.

“Trade,” she slid him an entire stack of photos she’d sorted of Foster and his ex-wife. Their wedding, their engagement, all sorts of things. She watched him falter, studying a picture of him and Vanessa holding an ultrasound picture. It came from Caroline’s pile, and he quickly slid it into the Miscellaneous folder without discussing it.

Cheyenne got up without a word, making her way to the kitchen. “Chase brought this home yesterday, but I think desperate times call for desperate measures. Does anyone want any?” She came back with a small stack of plastic cups under her good arm, the mostly-full bottle of whiskey in her hand. She resumed her place beside Sebastian as Foster held up a folder labeled Cheyenne - Europe.

“Do you want these or should I hang onto them?”

“Keep them, I don’t want to think about it. Not yet. I’m not ready.”

—

“I didn’t know you had kittens, it's sweet of you to house them.”

Joseph shrugged, glancing back at her. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“Maybe when you go out to check the trail tomorrow, I’ll browse your library. With your permission of course, I’m sure your writing is beautiful.”

“Depends on your definition, I reckon. Some of it’s poetry, most is old journals of the huntin’, surveyin’, horse breakin’, ranch ownin’ type. Goes back at least a century. I copied a lot of them in new journals, so nothing is lost. Other ‘n that, a couple journals of the personal type. Mine and some ancestors on our mom’s side. The Bichlers aren’t much of the creative type, if Cheyenne, Chase, and Joseph are anything to go off of.”

“I do have one question, actually… Does anyone know you found me? They must know I’m gone, you wouldn’t be here if no one knew…right?”

“Well,” he shrugged, eyes half-open from the demands the day had placed on him. He knew he had to start boiling water for coffee soon. If he didn’t get up, he never would. And, he knew he had to stay awake for Penny’s sake, despite what his body was telling him. It was failing him. Desperately. “Yes and no.” He was starting to mumble, as he always did when he got tired. He’d been sitting too long. He tried to force his eyes open, but he was fighting sleep and losing. “They know I came out to get you, they don’t know we’re alive. I’d be offended if they think we’re not, though.” He felt as though he was rambling, his own voice putting him to sleep. He was replying with his eyes closed. “I’m gone on excursions like this more often than you think, and no one ever manages my comings and goings. I still come back fine every time.”

Putting the conversation back on her, partially out of lack of desire to tell her anything more about him and his personal life and partially out of exhaustion, Joseph asked, “so what’s your take on Sebastian and Cheyenne? Everyone seems to have one.”

—

“Your brother better not get in trouble because of us,” was all Chase heard as he flicked the light on in the bar. It was an eccentric little place, tripling as a coffee shop, a bar, and a bistro depending on the time of day. It only made sense that Joseph would work in a place as odd as him. Still, the place was actually rather bare, just emitting a yellowish-brown haze with the dimmed vintage lights and the scarce placements of furniture around a box-shaped bar in the center of the room. A sign that said Vancouver’s hung above the wall, made to be rustic and eccentric. The sign was the only thing that truly looked as old as it was made to in the entire shop.

“Foster? Never. Black and white thinker, that guy. Perfectionistic tendencies keep him on the straight and narrow.” He had already put down his jacket in the corner after stripping it off his broad frame, along with the sweatshirt that went underneath, and the hawaiian shirt underneath that. Due to the warmth of the room, he’d decided early on that it was smartest for him to strip down to the plain white t-shirt under all his other layers so he didn’t overheat, and so that if he needed to go back out at any point in the night, he wouldn’t freeze to death. He walked over to the bar like he owned the place, pouring himself a glass of brandy. It was clear he’d done this a thousand times. “But if you mean Joseph, by some far-reached stretch of the imagination, the woman who owns this place is a family friend. And by family friend, I mean she’s been madly in love with Joseph since before I was born, and that’s saying something. She’d do anything for him.”

Taking a swig of the warm liquid in his glass, swishing it around a bit, then emptying it, the blond put his glass on the table and glanced back at Jess with mischief in his eye. Or maybe it was boredom. There really wasn’t much of a difference when it came to Chase. “Well, we’re gonna be here all night, might as well make it as minimally painstaking as possible. You up for a drinking game, partner?”

“Has anyone heard from Chase?” It was like his ears had zoomed in on the conversation, afraid of missing a syllable. Sebastian turned himself so that he wasn’t just facing Cheyenne so he could better listen to Foster’s follow-up to the question. If any one of them was going to have that information, it would be Foster. Especially since Cheyenne asked. It was because Chase would have news about Jess, he knew, but he was glad that they had brought up their brother again. Sebastian hoped he wouldn’t hold a grudge, and part of him found it unlikely. But still, there was hope.

Sebastian was relieved to hear that Chase found Jessica out in the snow, and that they had made it somewhere they could camp out the night; even if the idea of Chase being cooped up all night in a bar with a nearly endless supply of bottles made him nervous after the stunt at the rodeo... He wished they would have come home, but given the circumstances he was more than glad they didn’t make an attempt at the return trip.

A curious silence hung in the air for a second after Foster spoke, and Sebastian broke it quickly. “Foster? If you uh, talk to Chase again, tell him thank you for me, would ya? For finding Jess. Or I can tell him tomorrow, when they come back.” If they come back tomorrow, a part of him said. If the snow stops, if the roads are better… The roads would be better tomorrow, he told himself.

He distracted himself with watching the others look through pictures, though he didn't entirely want a stack to look through himself. Photographs seemed too personal for him to help them sort through, especially if they were photos Cheyenne and Foster’s dad had taken. Surely they would rather see the photos themselves than have him help them sort. Distantly, he wished his mother had done something like that; left something around for them when she left their father.

He watched as Cheyenne sorted through her stack of photos, though he wasn't paying particular attention to the contents of the photos or where they were going, until she began sliding a photo towards a file labelled “Mitchell”, which was next to a file labelled “Brooke”. He didn't recognize either name.

“Who’s Mitchell?” he asked, puzzled. He asked purely because that was the folder she was reaching towards at the moment.

______________

As Caroline settled herself onto the floor a few feet over from Foster, she scanned the exquisitely marked folders before her. She had a sorting system similar to the one used on the documents before her, which she used to keep track of any records outside the current calendar year, but her hand writing wasn’t nearly as neat, nor were the papers contained within each file as well organised.

When Foster handed her a folder, she took it carefully and picked up a couple more folders that were on the floor close to her, moving them so they couldn’t interfere with Foster’s moving the filing cabinet he had worked so hard to bring in. She admired his determination with bringing the darn thing into the house, she couldn’t have been bothered with getting her things from the office in this weather. She may have considered it in the morning, but even that seemed unlikely.

Caroline saw out of the corner of her eye as Sebastian helped Cheyenne off the loveseat and onto the floor so she too could look through some of the files Foster had dragged in. Quickly, Caroline busied herself with leafing through the folder of papers Foster had first handed her. For the most part, she was pretty sure she had a folder that contained farm receipts; hay bills, medical bills, statements and other things she didn’t look at long enough to identify, things that were worth saving just in case but rarely needed. She closed the folder and set it aside, unsure of what she was looking for exactly. She should have asked him what it was he was trying to accomplish, before offering to help. Oh well. She picked up the next folder in her little pile and began to leaf through that one as well.

This folder contained pictures. Pictures of a woman she didn't recognize, pictures of Foster, pictures of Foster and the woman. They looked ecstatic in most of the pictures she flipped through, beaming smiles on their faces as they looked at each other or looked at the camera. It brought a smile to Caroline’s face, and she was about to ask why she had never heard this woman mentioned if she had brought Foster so much happiness, until she flipped to the next photo: Foster, the woman, and an ultrasound picture held up between them. Caroline’s heart sank. That’s why I haven’t heard him mention her…

She set down the last photo close to Foster, setting the photo face down onto the floor. It seemed too personal to leave facing up to the rest of the room. With the rest of the photos, she neatened the pile on her knee and then tucked them back into the folder they had come out of. She placed the folder close to Foster as well.

When Cheyenne came back to the loveseat, bottle in hand, and asked if anyone wanted any, Caroline raised her hand like a child still in school. She needed something to shake her mind away from the photo of the ultrasound, so she didn’t feel the need to ask Foster about it and rip open an old wound of his anymore than seeing the photo must have. She couldn't imagine how he must have felt at the time; she didn’t think she would have been able to bear it if it had been her.

“If you’re sharing, I'll take some.” She said, smiling at Cheyenne. Caroline scooted across the floor on her knees, reaching out to grab a cup from the stack so Cheyenne wouldn't have to worry about handing her one. She also grabbed the bottle, spinning the lid off and pouring a little into her cup before setting the cap back on the bottle and returning it.

When Foster and Cheyenne began to speak again, Caroline hesitated with the cup at her lips, listening to see if it was something she was supposed to reply to. When she realised it wasn't, and the air grew even more awkward than it had been, she finished the contents of her cup in one committed gulp.

______________

Penny moved from laying on the floor to sitting cross legged, the blanket pulled around her shoulders and wrapped tightly across her back, the excess tucked into her lap. His answer to her question wasn’t quite what she had hoped for. Had she really expected him to have gotten in contact with anyone at the house? Not exactly, but she had hoped that they knew they were okay. The fact that none of her siblings knew where she was, or how she was, worried her because she knew it would worry them. Hard as she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was stressing them out. She thought about Ellie again.

“... I still come back fine every time.” She could hear the sleepiness in his voice, the way his words grew quiet and began to meld into each other as he kept talking. This comment gave her a small sense of peace, and it made her smile. If he comes back every time, we will make it back this time, too. She held onto that thought tightly.

“So what's your take on Sebastian and Cheyenne? Everyone seems to have one.” This startled her, and she needed a second to think. As she thought, her eyes drifted away from Joseph and to the fire, a distant expression spreading across her face, almost as if she were entranced by the fire. A moment later, she responded.

“I don’t really have a take..?” She started, “They work together, they spend a lot of time together, so what? We all work together, well… with the exception of you and Chase. You two are just never around, and we’re used to that.” she shrugged it off and kept on talking, eyes still gazing distantly at the fire. “Bastian has Emma-Lynn, and dislike her as much as we all do, Bastian isn’t that kind of asshole. Cheyenne is lovely, she is, but my brother wouldn’t do that to Emma-Lynn. Even if she might deserve it.” There was a hint of ice in her voice as she finished, and she quickly kept going to avoid any questions on what she may or may not know there.

“Bastian might like your sister a little, or a lot, who knows, he's never really been one for PDA, so it's hard to tell. But I can tell you for certain, as long as Emma-Lynn is around, nothing is going to happen between Cheyenne and Sebastian. He’s not like that, not a cheater, not a jerk, not a…” she didn't bother finishing, she didn’t need to convince Joseph of her beliefs around her brother, and she was sure he wasn’t that interested.

“Anywho,” she looked from the fire to Joseph, whose eyes were closed. “You look like you could use some sleep. Why don’t you go to bed? If you’re worried about me dying overnight, I promise I won’t.” She laughed with her last remark a little awkwardly. She wasn’t sure they were friendly enough yet for that kind of joking, but her brain hadn't reminded her of that before she started to speak. “Sorry, bad joke. But I promise I’ll be fine. Just relax, there's no sense in exhausting yourself on day one if we don't know how long we’ll be here for. I’m going to need you, I don’t know what I’m doing out here. Clearly.” Clearly, or she would have thought better than to take a client's horse, who was there for some light restarting, out into the middle of nowhere when she had never even ridden him before. Clearly, or she would have turned around the second it had started to snow. Clearly, she had no right to be out in weather like this.

______________

Jess had followed him inside, and as soon as she was out of the weather it was a relief. She peeled off her jacket, which was a size too small over the massive burgundy sweatshirt she had put on beneath it. Inside she was nearly sweating, it was so warm after her wait in her truck for rescue. She looked around the room as Chase talked, taking in the scenery. She had never been in the establishment before.

“Straight and narrow, eh? You could learn a thing or two from him, me thinks.” She laughed, and dropped her jacket, black and fleece lined, into the pile with his several layers of discarded clothing. She wondered if she should remove her sweater as well, but beneath it was a white crop top that wasn’t thick enough to hide the colours of her undergarments, and she wasn’t entirely sure she was ready to bare that much skin in this weather, even it if was nearly scorching in the bar.

“If Joe’s boss was that interested in him,” she said as she followed him across the room to the bar, leaning her elbows against it and bringing her arms around her to hug herself, “You’d think he’d have given her a chance, no? Or is she ancient? If she’s ancient, that's just weird.”

“Oh, you want to play a drinking game? I’m game. We’ll see who’s going to be picking who up off the floor.” She turned to look at him, and for once, there was a spark of mischief in her eyes that almost could have matched that in his. He was right, they were going to be there overnight, might as well make it as interesting as they could.

“Have you ever played BattleShots? It's kinda like BattleShips, y’know, the game where you guess a square and the other person says ‘miss’ or ‘hit’? If you land a ‘hit’, the other person takes a shot. Whoever has taken the least shots at the end, wins. I’m pretty sure in BattleShips there are 17 or 18 ‘hits’, but we don't have to play with that many if you don’t wanna.” She said the last part like it was a challenge, almost daring him, but in reality, she wasn't sure she wanted to play with that many. He would definitely be picking her up off the floor then. But it would surely keep them occupied.

“We’d need some cardboard and a marker to set up though. You can pick the next game if you win this one, kiddo.” She winked at him, laughing, and pushed herself off the bar. “I bet I can find some old boxes somewhere, if you can find a marker.”

Foster slid the folder closer to Cheyenne, not satisfied until it was securely in her hands and off the floor. It hadn’t been that long since her stunt at the sink, and any movement she made from that point forward generally concerned him, whether it was large or small. He could tell Sebastian was uneasy too, but that meant less to him considering the way the evening had gone. As a man, he understood it, but as Cheyenne’s brother, he couldn’t bring himself to allow it. He was only made uneasier when she got up on her own and brought the liquor over, but he didn’t make any efforts towards helping her. He knew she was independent to a fault, and any attempts he or anyone else made to help her were only going to make life more difficult. He had to be wise, and until he figured out whether her reaction at the sink was because of her arm or something worse, he wasn’t willing to step in and assist if she wasn’t asking for it. Not that she ever would. In any circumstance.

“Foster? If you uh, talk to Chase again, tell him thank you for me, would ya? For finding Jess. Or I can tell him tomorrow, when they come back.” His gaze briefly met Sebastian’s, then immediately went to Caroline. It was natural, by now. They worked together day in and day out, and though it was mainly in silence and concentration like he liked it to be, they obviously interacted more than he did with most anyone else. Being less socially aware than others, Foster relied on the women around him for validation of social cues. This instance was no exception.

After a prolonged and fairly awkward few seconds of silence, Foster cleared his throat and replied. “Yeah, sure.” Then, gaze dropping to the floor, then back to Sebastian, he added, “they will come back.” Even he could read Sebastian’s face and tell he was just as worried as any of the rest of them about both pairs of stranded siblings. And, though he wasn’t a man of excessive empathy in any circumstance, he knew it had to be a thousand times worse for Sebastian. Not only was he the sole protector as the only brother, but he had never been through any of the Joseph and Chase adventures Foster and Cheyenne had. At one point, they might’ve been concerned, but after so many wild instances of their comings and goings, the pair had come to be desensitized to the danger they got themselves into and generally accepted that they’d come home. There hadn’t been a single time they hadn’t yet.

As Cheyenne resumed her place beside Sebastian, he seemed to gain the confidence to ask the inevitable question. “Who’s Mitchell?”

She held up the image she had been moving towards his folder when he asked the question, showing it to him so he could see. The picture featured a tall, skinny dark-haired boy, the younger red-haired boy, and a girl with slightly lighter red hair who seemed developmentally much younger. All three were holding hiking sticks much larger than them, smiling in front of a giant creek. “That’s Mitchell, in the middle, with me and Foster. He’s the only Bichler brother you haven’t met yet.”

“And probably won’t. Unless you plan on sticking around for a while.” He regretted his choice of words, even if it didn’t show. It made him feel more like Cheyenne’s protective older brother trying to ward off one of her boyfriends than a family business partner. He didn’t do anything to apologize other than avert his gaze and feign interest in some pictures of Cheyenne and Joseph as babies. He fought to resist the urge to lash out and failed, taking it out on Cheyenne. “I know Cheyenne doesn’t.”

“Foster,” she begged, “not tonight. Not like this.”

“What? It’s true. Isn’t that your plan? As soon as things get stable around here and dad dies, you’re on the first flight back to your other life.”

“Okay, that’s totally unwarranted and very unfair-”

“Admit it,” he cut her off, eyes bright with temper. “I’ll concede if you can sit here and honestly say that’s not your plan, and that every time something goes wrong here, you’re okay with it because you know nothing is permanent for you. Nothing is ever permanent for you.”

“I’m not fighting with you, you’re fighting with me because you’re embarrassed and stressed. And I’m not taking it today. Not with everything else that’s happening. You don’t get to talk to me that way.” Politely, Cheyenne excused herself to check on the horses, throwing on only one outer layer of clothing and boots. Instead of going to check on the horses, she packed down a big rectangle of snow and laid on it, staring up at the sky as snowflakes gently fell on her face from the trees and the house. She took several deep breaths, letting the magic of the moment consume her instead of her residual anger from being Foster’s punching bag.

—

Joseph listened intently to everything Penny had to say, primarily because he didn’t have the strength to do anything other than murmur a noise of agreement every now and again to demonstrate that he was still awake and listening, even barely. He wasn’t sure she was right about Bastian, and he wasn’t sure he was right about Cheyenne. She wasn’t the type to wait around for someone, especially someone here in the States. Nobody had said anything, but Joseph was fairly certain each sibling was holding his or her breath on the topic of Cheyenne’s role at the ranch. He knew he was waiting for the day she decided to pack up and leave again, and he assumed Foster and Chase were too. He dreaded that day. He only really came around the house for her sake, he wasn’t close with either of his brothers. Once she left again, he’d go back to living his miserable little life, completely alone other than occasional visits to a father who didn’t remember him and superficial albeit interesting conversations with Bowen at the bar. He resented the fact that he didn’t have anyone, that when Cheyenne was gone, nobody would be up waiting for him when he didn’t come home. He could die in the wilderness and no one would realize it for weeks, if not months.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he finally said, blatantly ignoring her insistence that he could go to bed and she’d be fine. It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take for more than a few hours, and if he fell asleep, he’d be asleep for a while. So would she after the day the pair of them had already had. “Love causes people to do some crazy, stupid things.” His tone turned nostalgic, and his eyes opened briefly. There was pain in his eyes that proved he was speaking from experience. “Even when it goes against everything in a man’s character. Or a woman’s,” he corrected himself. “If you’re asking me–which, to be fair, you didn’t–I think something’s gonna happen well before his relationship with Little Miss Priss ends. They’re not gonna tell anyone until they can’t hold it in any longer, but we’re all gonna feel it. Not long after, they’re gonna break up, but by that point, Cheyenne will already be on a manic independent spree and probably halfway back to the Netherlands. But, what do I know,” an amused smile tugged at one side of his mouth. “Not like I’ve predicted every major life event that’s happened on this goddamn farm thus far.” He paused for a moment, then added, “I’d bet money on it, though. In fact, I think we should come up with a code word so that when the inevitable happens, at least you can enjoy the benefit of my psychic abilities. I don’t even think it needs a code word. I think I’ll just come up to you one day and say ‘I told you so.’”

Lazily, his eyes forced themselves open and Foster glanced over at the fire beside him. It’d been an hour or two since he’d fidgeted with it, and it was starting to die. “‘Reckon’t needs another log or two.” Slowly, he got up and made his way over to a tarped area in one corner of the cabin that contained a pile of firewood. He brought over two big logs, poking and prodding it until he was satisfied that it would maintain for the night with minimal interaction. As he was poking at it, he glanced over at her, continuing their conversation. “Well, now that I know your thoughts on Cheyenne and Bastian, what’s your take on Foster and Caroline? What’s her deal, anyway? Married? Divorced? Arranged engagement to a Nigerian prince?” He delivered the joke without changing his expression once, ice blue eyes laser-focused on his task. When he was finished, he resumed his position under the blanket, off to one side of her. He didn’t want to force her to be near him given the circumstances and how little she knew him, but he didn’t want to seem so distant that it sent the message he was unapproachable. He simply wanted to give her the option.

—

Meanwhile at Vancouver’s, Chase was busy pouring liquor attentively and listening to Jess inattentively. “Straight and narrow, eh? You could learn a thing or two from him, me thinks.”

He studied her with deep blue eyes before deadpanning a sardonic response. He poured a shot of a clear liquid he’d lifted without looking, all while maintaining eye contact with Jess.

“Men like me weren’t made for the straight and narrow, darling.” He drained the shot without flinching, all while keeping his eyes on hers. When he removed the shot glass from his lips, a smirk emerged, and his eyes lowered as he placed the glass back on the table nonchalantly.

“You’d think he’d have given her a chance, no?”

“You’d think. No, she’s actually pretty hot, in a self-made woman meets girl-next-door meets crunchy granola girl kind of way. Interested in the same kinds of things as him and everything, all his niche little emo boy hobbies. Just, way cooler. And hotter. I’d hit that, and that’s not my low standards talking.” He slid her a shot across the table without asking what she wanted. It was clear he was interested in sampling everything over the course of the evening, and he expected her to keep up. If her enthusiasm about BattleWhateverSheCalledItBecauseHeWasn’tListening was any indication, she would be good company.

“Damn, I was prepared to play one of those attention-seeking, talk-about-your-feelings games. Not gonna lie, the fact that you weren’t is kinda hot.” He turned to open the cash register, swiping a permanent marker from the side. “There’s boxes in the storage room. Out the hallway, first door on your right. I’ll see if I can find another marker somewhere.”

As he shut the register again, his eyes made their way back to her. “And, naturally, I’m going to deem any instances of you calling me ‘kiddo’ null and void and pretend they never happened.”

Sebastian studied the picture of Mitchell, her, and Foster with intent eyes, half due to interest and half because it gave him something to distract himself with, even if only for a moment. He studied the creek in the background, following the tiny white caps of the small waves that moved in it, following it from end to end in the photo. He smiled when he looked at the smiles on their faces, bright and beaming, and still full of childlike wonder. He focused on Cheyenne and Foster just as much as Mitchell in the photo.

He had been about to comment something along the lines of “he looks like a nice kid” or “it looks like it was a fun trip” when Foster cut in with “I know Cheyenne doesn’t”. He had heard what they were saying before that point, but heard it the same way you hear the television while washing the dishes, almost distantly and not enough to completely recall what was said. But when Foster mentioned that Cheyenne wasn’t planning on sticking around, it was like a record had screeched to a halt, abruptly startling him back into paying full attention to what was going on around him. He dropped the photo into his lap, forgotten, and his head snapped up, first to look at Foster, then to look at Cheyenne.

He fought with himself to keep his expression neutral, or curious at least, and for the most part he was sure he had won. His head continued to pivot between looking at Cheyenne and looking at Foster as they spoke, the conversation growing evermore agitated as they went on. His brain wasn’t really comprehending the words that were being said, but instead taking note of everything so he could process it when it was done. He didn't have time to think about each comment as it was being made, only about the conversation as a whole. When Cheyenne excused herself, Sebastian was still busy processing the conversation she and Foster had just had before him.

He stayed where he was on the floor, the photo still forgotten in his lap.

____________________________

Caroline held her cup carefully between both hands as she listened to the back and forth between the Bichler siblings that remained at the house. It was clear stress was beginning to wear everyone thin, and nerves were beginning to be touched. Still, the conversation was more emotional than she had seen from Foster thus far. She wasn't entirely opposed to his emotion, it seemed to her that he didn’t want his sister to go, again, but she agreed with Cheyenne that now wasn’t the time to bring it up; not publicly, not like that. But she understood his emotional distress, especially when talking about one sibling leaving while two are out, not missing, but not far from missing.

She understood why he was upset with Cheyenne, and thought that maybe it was because he felt like she was lying, either to herself or to them, or maybe to both. She thought she could hear the pain in his voice, though there was generally little in his voice to hear and that made it hard for her to be sure that she wasn’t just imagining it. It tore at her heartstrings, the thought that it was pain in his voice she could hear.

When they finished and Cheyenne left, Caroline watched Sebastian for a second, and when he made to move to get up himself, she got to her feet. She said nothing as she walked to the door and pulled her heavy winter boots onto her feet. She pulled a random coat off the coat rack, not looking to see whose it was and instead simply shoving her arms into it and zipping it up to her chin. She paused at the door for a second, steeling herself for the weather outside, and then opened the door and stepped out.

It didn’t take long to find Cheyenne’s jacket against the snow, and when she first saw Cheyenne on the ground, her heart skipped a beat. She ploughed through the snow ahead of her until Cheyenne was in view, worried that something had happened, a delayed reaction to her injuries earlier. When she saw Cheyenne, looking at peace, she relaxed and slowed to a crawl as she covered the last few feet of snow. She got down into the snow a couple feet over from Cheyenne, laying on her back with her arms at her sides almost as if she were going to do a snow angel, and looked up at the sky and the snow falling onto them.

“I’m sorry if you want to be alone, I just want to make sure you’re alright. We don’t have to talk, if you don't want to.” Caroline said. It was almost eerily silent outside, the snow a sound-dampening blanket over the world. Caroline couldn’t see Cheyenne beside her, she had sunk too far into the unpacked snow beneath her, but she hoped that Cheyenne wasn’t bother by her coming to join her.

The snow was cold everywhere her jacket or boots did not cover, and she could feel the flakes melting and seeping into her hair and her pants, but she didn’t mind. She couldn't remember the last time she had just laid in the snow and watched.

______________________

Penny frowned when she realised he wasn’t going to go to sleep, and part of her wanted to drag him over to the bed and make him lay down, but she was sure she physically couldn’t, not unless he let her, and that didn’t seem likely. Instead, she conceded to talking for as long as he was interested in it. It had been the first time they had really had a conversation, and though it had been a little odd at first, she was warming up to the idea of telling him things. He seemed like less of a stranger that occasionally visited her house, now.

She listened to his predict the future of Sebastian and Cheyenne, and for a moment she thought it was sweet, how he sounded almost certain they were destined to get together eventually. But the sweetness became bitter sweet as he continued speaking. If you know she’t just going to leave, and hurt him, then why wouldn’t you tell her to find some other conquest? Someone who the rest of the family won’t have to work with in the foreseeable future. She wanted to ask him, but if he really was as certain as he sounded, there was no point trying to convince him of something else. Tell Cheyenne to find a conquest that won’t have long term repercussions for the rest of us. It made her lower lip curl in disgust for just a second, and she fought it off quickly.

“You better. Come find me to say ‘I told you so’. Come back from whatever backwoods adventure you’re on at the time, just to come see lil’ ol’ me.” She laughed, a loud, almost obnoxious laugh, but it was genuine. Sleep was beginning to take its toll and she was beginning to speak before her brain could find the right words. “If you’re right, and you come back to me to tell me, I’ll owe you dinner for such a perfect prediction.” She smiled at him, eyes sparkling behind half closed eyelids.

As the conversation died down for the moment, she let her eyelids flutter shut, drinking in the warmth around her from the fire and the blanket. She heard him mention that he was going to get another log, and she opened her eyes to look at him, giving a nod even though he wasn’t asking her permission to put a log on the fire. When he stood, her eyes fell closed again and she listened to his soft steps across the cabin.

She thought about Caroline for a few seconds with her eyes closed, before she opened them to look at him while they talked. There was a little voice in the back of her head that nagged at her to keep her eyes open while Joseph was near enough to see. Under the blanket beside her, he was currently near enough to see.

“I wish Care were engaged to a Nigerian Prince,” she laughed, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling of the cabin. As she did, she ended up close to Joseph and accidentally banged her elbow off some part of his body gently. He didn’t flinch, and she didn’t think any more of it. “That would basically make me a princess by association, no?” she turned her head to look at him, smiling widely. “That’s a fun thought. But no, she isn’t any of the above.” she sighed, and returned her gaze back to the ceiling.

“Caroline hasn’t really ever been involved with anyone else. Y’know, besides the family. She had a kind of long term boyfriend in university, we heard about him a bit but no one ever met him. I knew so much about him at one point he was like a character from a beloved book, you know them inside and out but have never actually seen them, you know? Then one year when she came back for summer break and we just never heard any more about him, and no one wanted to pry, so that was that I guess. Since then there hasn’t been anyone else that we’ve heard of. She’s too… type A, I think, and she’s so dedicated to the farm. I’m pretty sure she puts more thought into choosing suitable studs for the breeding program than she does for herself- or, you know what I mean, a suitable guy for herself.” She was studying the cracks in the ceiling as she spoke, and when she fell silent her gaze fell still on the ceiling.

After a little while in silence, she turned her head to look at Joseph again. “So, if I’m not allowed to go take a nap, what do you want me to do?” she yawned, and pulled the blanket up around her face to cover her mouth. It was better than nothing. She rolled over onto her stomach with a groan, and held herself up on her elbows to look at him.

____________________

Jess couldn’t help the look that spread across her face the longer he spoke about his brother’s boss. The expression was somewhere between disgust and disappointment, with a hint of searching, for a slightly more gentlemanly quality she wasn’t sure she was going to find now. When he passed her a shot, she downed it just as quickly as it was passed, using it as a way to get rid of the expression that was on her face, and replace it by one that almost looked like the expression a child would make after biting a lemon for the first time. She scrunched her eyes closed and her tongue darted out.

“Wah,” she said, shaking her head as if that would clear the burn of the alcohol. It didn’t.

“Damn, I was prepared to play one of those attention-seeking, talk-about-your-feelings games. Not gonna lie, the fact that you weren’t is kinda hot.” She laughed at this, and shook her head. Even if I wanted to, you don't seem too, she thought. For just a moment, she felt like one of her friends’ younger brothers was hitting on her again, like in highschool. Even if it was a little awkward in highschool, it was always flattering. And even if he had just been calling his brother’s boss hot, she couldn’t help but take the compliment.

“Storage room, got it.” she clapped her palms off the bar and turned on one heel to head to the storage room, following his directions. When he shut the register, the bang caught her attention and she turned to see what it was before her brain had processed the sound. When she turned, she caught his eyes again.

“Okay bub, it’ll be our little secret. We’ll pretend I never said a thing. Shhh!” she teased, a finger over her lips. Even still, she made a mental note of it and hoped she could remember not to call him pet names. Even if it was a little bit funny. “I shall be back with the cardboard,” she announced, throwing her hands into the air above her head as if she expected a crowd to roar with the motion. She dropped them back to her sides a moment later before putting one hand on her hip and pointing a finger on the other at him. “Don’t go anywhere on me while I’m gone. Espeically if you want to play one of those attention-seeking, talk-about-your-feelings games after this one.” She warned, though there was still a smile on her lips as she pointed a finger at him.

She spun around again, and found her way to the storage room, where she found a decent sized pile of cardboard to choose from. After ripping a box apart so she had two long pieces that could be bent into an L, she turned and headed back towards the main room. The pieces were each about the size of a pizza box, and though they were a little larger than they needed to be, she didn’t bother making them any smaller. It was too hard to rip cardboard in a semi-straight line.

The cardboard nearly slid out of her hands as she walked back into the main room, and she threw one foot out ahead of her to stop the falling piece before it could hit the floor. She caught it, balancing on the top of her boot with the other end stuck up behind the second piece still in her grasp. Carefully, she raised her foot to grab the offending piece, and continued back to the bar.

She set each piece in front of a different stool at the bar, and bent the pieces into the laptop shape they would need to hide their boards from each other. Then she set out to draw a grid on her board, with the numbers 1 through 10 across the top, and letter A through J down the left hand side. With her board complete, she looked up, wondering if she should do Chase’s board for him.

Following the blizzard, days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and the death of winter turned into the birth of spring. Despite the fact that this was what the calendar said, the weather was still miserably cold and icy, and it seemed that summer would never come. At least, it seemed this way to Cheyenne, who was getting more and more tired of the way the ice disrupted her teaching schedule as well as Sebastian’s. Because of the time they’d spent together during the various snow storms that had come and gone and had forced the families into close quarters with one another, Cheyenne had created an intimate closeness with Sebastian that remained unspoken for a variety of reasons. For one, she considered the two of them to be more like siblings now than they had been in the beginning. The start of their partnership had been rocky, just as everyone’s had, and it left her questioning whether they were even acquaintances, let alone friends. Now she’d spent some time with him and she’d learned the ins and the outs of his personality, which seemed to be simple and complex at the same time.

In addition, the fact that Emma-Lynn was still in the picture created a very interesting dynamic that made everyone feel as though they had to walk on eggshells. Cheyenne seemed to be the only one out of the entire group that was willing to stand up to her, and for what reason, no one seemed to know. Though, when she did, she seemed to receive backlash from Sebastian in the form of the silent treatment or total avoidance. The whole thing was strange, really, and she wished that the young woman would go away and leave both of their families, their farms, and their horses alone. She didn’t really have much interest in dating Sebastian herself, she’d moved past the possibility it would ever happen after a matter of weeks and reasoned it was probably for the better, but surely he could do better. Surely he was happier single than he was dating her. She suspected there was more to the story, and he was too moral to allow himself to explain it to anyone who didn’t need to know. Instead, he remained in tortured silence and played his part day in and day out, much to her annoyance. She’d given up on learning anything about it after a while.

In the meantime, Cheyenne had stumbled head-first into a relationship with someone she knew growing up. His name was Austin and she had been infatuated with him for as many years as Chase had hated him. They played hockey together, then against each other, and though they’d been friends once, Chase began to despise him somewhere along the way for a reason nobody seemed to be able to force out of him. It was for this reason that only Joseph knew about their relationship, not only because he was the closest to Cheyenne emotionally but because he’d been there when the whole thing started. She’d gone to visit Joseph at work at Vancouver’s and coincidentally ran into Austin too. He was in town for some sort of hockey clinic–a way he was ‘giving back to the place that had given hockey to him,’ in his words. She learned that he had made it as a professional hockey player and had been through a difficult divorce a few years prior, and now he was ready to start a new chapter of his life. The next night they went out together, and they had been seeing each other since.

The third week of March was the week that some of the foundations of the new buildings went up on the Bichler property. Despite the fact that the project would take over a year to complete, Chase and Joseph had decided that they should have a small get-together on the property with their friends to celebrate. They had a lot of materials to burn from the buildings that had been torn down so they thought it would be appropriate to have a bonfire. Cheyenne and Joseph arrived at the farm early to prepare while the others finished up the evening chores at the farm and prepared food to bring over.

While Joseph was collecting some of the planks and stacking them in the area they’d created for the fire, he noticed Cheyenne checking her phone, her nose scrunched in an emotion he could only identify as apprehension. When she noticed he was looking at her, she shoved her phone back in her pocket. “Sorry, J. It’s just Austin. He hasn’t texted me since this morning. It’s not like him.”

“When are you gonna tell Chase?”

“Never?” She gave a gentle laugh, then added, “I don’t know. It’s not that serious yet. He went through his whole thing with his ex and I went through my whole thing with mine. It hasn’t been that long, it’s just nice to have someone, you know?”

“Not really, no.”

“C’mon, Joseph. You might not have an Austin but you have Bowen, it’s like that. Just having someone you like sharing space with, you know? Someone to tell about your day, that’s there for you like you’re there for everyone else.”

“It doesn’t sound like he’s very ‘there for you’ right now.”

“Listen, I know you don’t like that I’m hiding something from the rest of the family but you know how much he would try to sabotage this. And I think it’s a good thing. I’m not ready for that kind of stress yet. But I promise you I will not wait until the wedding to tell them, okay? Promise.” She giggled a little, a glimmer of humor in her eye.

“Very well,” he replied, seemingly unconvinced. “What about Bastian? Does he know?”

Now she was defensive. “Why would Bastian know? Why would he need to know?”

“I dunno, Chey. It just seems like a few weeks ago he was all you wanted to talk to me about and now the two of you barely speak. I just thought that since-”

“Since what?”

“Since you spend all day with him, as I was saying,” he rolled his eyes dramatically, stacking another plank on the fire, “you might want to tell him before he asks someone other than you what’s going on with you.”

“Has he?”

“Not yet, but you’re not acting like you. I imagine it’s inevitable.”

“Well, thanks for your concern, but it’s my life, and nobody has any business asking around about it. It’ll all come together the way it’s supposed to.”

“Alrighty then. Help me lift this?”

The remainder of the afternoon passed quickly and soon the others began to arrive at the property. Bowen arrived fairly early, having been invited by Cheyenne on Joseph’s behalf earlier in the week. She was like a member of the family anyway, given that she’d grown up with them and got along fairly well with each member of the family in her own way. After Bowen came Chase with Jess and Penelope, who let everyone else know that Foster and Caroline were coming but they would be late because they got distracted with paperwork and were just finishing making dinner now. They weren’t sure whether Sebastian was coming because Emma-Lynn had been throwing a tantrum about something or other when they left, and they weren’t entirely sure if it was related to the event or not.

Not thirty minutes later, an unrecognizable car rolled up on the property. “Bowen, did you invite someone?” Cheyenne glanced across the fire to Bowen, who was sitting on a log next to Joseph. They were taking turns between who would play the guitar that the girl had brought and who was absentmindedly swigging the bottle of liquor Chase had brought, which had ended up in their hands because no one else was drinking other than Chase, who’d brought his own personal bottle for himself.

“No ma’am,” the girl said, smiling softly. “Bastian, maybe?”

The car pulled up and a tall, handsome figure emerged wearing a dress coat and nice shoes. His hair was slicked back and he gave off a regal impression, although there was a strong air of implied arrogance given the entrance he was making. Joseph snickered. “It’ll all come together the way it’s supposed to alright.”

“I’ll take that drink now,” Cheyenne muttered to Bowen, who took it from Joseph and passed it over to Cheyenne.

“Not before I beat him over the head with it,” Chase mumbled, very quickly becoming hostile and getting up in Austin’s face as the driver of the car he’d taken to the farm drove away. “What the hell are you doing on my property?”

He smiled uneasily, shifting in his shoes. “Oh,” he mumbled under his breath. “Well, this is awkward, they don’t know about us, do they?” He glanced across the fire at Cheyenne. “I guess now’s as good of a time as any to deliver the good news: Cheyenne and I have been seeing each other for a few weeks now. I had a few days off from practices and I thought I’d spend them here.”