closed her gaping mouth and frowned at the nasty taste. Apparently, a carnival had also set up camp there and left behind a fuzzy tongue and the lingering taste of apple cider.
She cracked open an eyelid and groaned. No elephant in the bedroom. It was just a hangover from hell. How many glasses of Abe Breckenridge’s famous apple cider had she drunk last night? And what on earth had he spiked it with?
Her headache continued to bang as she rolled over on her back and stared up at the ceiling. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d suffered this kind of a hangover.
She also remembered very little of the last hour of the barn dance she’d thrown the night before. Despite her head pain a small smile curved her lips.
The barn dance had been a rousing success. Nearly everyone who lived in the small town of Bitterroot, Oklahoma, had attended.
Besides the fancy Western wear, some of the attendees had gotten into the Halloween spirit and dressed in costumes. The Croakin’ Frogs band had provided the music and there had been plenty of eating, dancing and drinking.
Oh, she’d danced and drunk way too much. She needed to get out of bed. She had a barn to get cleaned up, but before that she hoped a long, hot shower would make her feel at least halfway human again.
With a groan she rolled out of the bed and padded into the adjoining bathroom. She stared at her reflection in the mirror and another low moan escaped her. Her curly blond hair was in tangles and mascara had moved from her lashes to form dark shadows beneath her eyes.
She looked like she’d been ridden hard and put away wet. “You wish,” she said ruefully to the reflection and then turned her back and started the water for a shower.
Thirty minutes later Cassie headed down the stairs, feeling only marginally more human. Clad in a pair of her favorite jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt, she almost felt ready to face the day, although her head still banged with a fury, and she swore she would never drink apple cider again.
The scent of coffee wafted in the air and she assumed the ranch foreman, Adam Benson, had come in and was waiting for her in the kitchen.
She stepped into the bright, airy room and halted at the sight of Halena Redwing seated at the table with a cup of coffee in hand.
The old Choctaw woman wore a floral caftan from Cassie’s closet and a cowboy hat and smiled with a knowing glint in her eyes. “You look like a woman who had too good a time last night.”
Cassie moved over to the coffeepot and poured herself a cup and then joined Halena at the table. “I’m not sure my good time last night was worth my headache this morning.”
“Greasy eggs, that’s what you need.” Halena got up and walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out the egg carton and a container of bacon fat.
“Ugh, that sounds awful.”
“Greasy eggs and toast are great for a hangover.” She leaned down and pulled out the skillet from a lower cabinet. “And I hope you remember that last night you said it was okay if I crashed out on your sofa and got something out of your closet to wear.”
Cassie nodded and took a sip of her coffee. She vaguely remembered Tony Nakni, her ranch hand, asking her if Halena could spend the night because he and Halena’s granddaughter had to get home early to take care of their precious little baby boy, whom they had left with a babysitter for the first time.
“Whose hat are you wearing?” Cassie asked in an attempt to get her mind off the pounding of her head and the slight nausea that arose from the scent of the melting bacon fat.
“Sawyer’s.” Halena turned from the stove and flashed Cassie a slightly naughty grin. “That boy is handsome as sin but he can’t hold his liquor worth a damn. He passed out on one of the hay bales and I thought he might roll over and crush this hat, so I took it for the night.”
Cassie couldn’t help but smile as she thought of Sawyer Quincy. He was one of twelve cowboys she’d inherited when her aunt Cass had been killed in a tornado and left the huge ranch to Cassie six months before.
“Have any of the other men been in this morning?” she asked.
“Haven’t seen hide nor hair of them.” Halena cracked two eggs into the skillet.
Cassie wasn’t surprised. She’d told the men to take the morning off, knowing that everyone would need some time to recuperate after last night’s festivities. If they all felt as bad as she did, it might take a month for everyone to recuperate.
She sipped her coffee and stared out the window to the big barn in the distance. The party was supposed to be a turning point for her. She’d promised herself that once it was over she’d make a final decision about staying in Bitterroot or selling the ranch and returning to her old life in New York City. But this morning her head was much too fuzzy to even contemplate making a life-changing decision.
“Here you go.” Halena set a plate in front of Cassie.
Cassie stared down at the toast and the two eggs with bright yellow, runny yolks and her stomach threatened to rebel.
“Eat up. Consider it medicine.” Halena sat back down at the table.
“I’m more of an egg white kind of person,” Cassie replied uneasily.
“That’s just the big city in you doing the talking,” Halena scoffed. “A little egg yolk never hurt anyone.”
As Cassie forced herself to eat, Halena regaled her with stories from the night before. “I danced with every one of your cowboys. I even grabbed Dillon Bowie and forced him to two-step with me.”
Cassie’s heart jumped just a little at the mention of Bitterroot’s chief of police. She had a bit of a crush on the dark-haired, gray-eyed man. But he’d given her no indication that he returned the feeling. In any case, it didn’t matter if she was going to sell out and move on.
The back door opened and Adam Benson, the ranch foreman, walked in. “Good morning,” he said and then smiled wryly. “Or is it?”
“She has a hangover, but she’ll be fine once she finishes those eggs,” Halena said.
Adam walked over to the coffeepot, poured himself a cup and then joined the two women at the table. “Heck of a shindig you threw last night.”
“Remind me never again to drink Abe’s special apple cider,” Cassie replied.
“We all think his special ingredient is pure grain alcohol.”
“Whatever it is, it’s deadly,” Cassie replied.
Adam turned to smile at Halena. “You were definitely the belle of the ball.”
“I can’t help it that men desire me and women envy me,” Halena replied and tossed one of her long silver braids over her shoulder. Cassie would have laughed if she wasn’t afraid her head might fall off.
“I’m assuming barn cleanup is on the agenda for the day,” Adam said to Cassie.
She nodded and shoved her half-empty plate aside. “I’ll walk through it
