Cowgirls Don't Cry

Ch 6

Chapter 6

Kip

The look on Lynn's face when Colt told him she was our neighbor, was priceless. I swear her jaw hit the dirt, but that look wore off fast. Soon they were both in the pasture checking on the cattle, and she was looking at him like he hung the moon. Colt and I were friends so I was use to the way girls stared at him, but seeing that same look on Lynn's face was different. It was like

"Hey, Kip" Colt walks up to me, pulling the gloves from his hands. "The heifers look good. I have a few appointments in town, but I'll come by later to help Lynn fix the fence." He shakes my hand and turns to Lynn. I'm already getting on the quad to head back to the house, so I can't hear what he's saying, but I can hear her laugh.

I get back to the barn and head up to the loft to my room. Pulling my shirt off as I walk up the stairs, pulling my shirt off on the way up. I stand in front of the small mirror above the small sink in my room. My side, starting from just under my arm going all the way down to my hip, is a deep purple. It hurts to move and is tender to the touch, but I power through it and push on each of my ribs. I've read in the circuit a few times, mostly Saddle Broncs and steer ropin', so I'm used to pain. It doesn't seem like any of my ribs are broken, but the bruise runs deep. I hear footsteps on the stairs in the barn, a second later Lynn is in my door way, Bear at her feet. That little rat loves her.

"Thought you and colt were gonna' fix the fence," I say, trying to keep the venom out of my voice. I know Lynn's daddy doesn't like her doing that kind of work, the kind that could get her hurt, so I try and keep her away from it. I broke his trust and told her he was sick, least I could do was make sure she's safe.

"He had work," she's lookin' at her feet. She does that when she thinks she's in trouble. "Said he'd come back before dusk.

I smile at her, then go back to checking my side, expecting her to leave.

"Sit," she tells me, nudging me away from the sink towards the bed.

I sit and watch her as she fills a cup with warm water. She grabs the wash cloth hanging by the sink and comes to kneel on the floor in front of me. Slowly, she wets the rag, and starts patting at the cuts on my face. I don't wince, it hurts, but I don't wince. Never show pain, that's what my dad always said. I close my eyes as she moves from my face to the cuts on my neck and arms. The warm rag feels amazing against my sore skin. Suddenly her hand is on my chest, making me shiver, I tell myself its cause her fingers are a cold contrast to the warm rag.

"When did you get this?" she's running her fingers over the cross tattoo on my peck. I watch as her fingers trace the lines slowly.

"Two summers ago," I clear my, suddenly dry, throat.

"And this one?" her hands move to my bicep, tracing the words that scroll up and down my upper arm.

"I got that one when I was 18," I laugh, not surprised she never noticed.

"How come I never knew you had tattoos?"

"Well, your old man isn't too keen on them," I laugh, "I just always kept them covered."

Lynn has this smirk on her face. Slowly she stands up and starts unbuttoning her flannel top.

"Well, don't tell my daddy, but I've always liked tattoos" she slips the flannel over her shoulders, exposing a little white tank top. My eyes go wide, when she slips the strap off her shoulder. She starts laughing, and turns so her back is to me, and pulls tank top further down exposing a tattoo under her shoulder blade. My heart was pounding. When she started unbuttoning her blouse, the last thing I expected was a tattoo. I was a little ashamed at what had entered my mind.