How Cassie Got Her Grind Back(Divine Creek Ranch 23)(27)

One of Cassie’s uncles had rushed forward and warded them both off. “I think your family has done enough for one night, boys. Go home and leave us alone to take care of ours.” He gave a curt shake of his head when they tried to speak. “No. If you have any respect, do as Jorge wishes and stay away from Cassie.”

“We didn’t do anything, Mr. Villalobos. I haven’t laid a hand on Cassie,” Samson said with barely controlled vehemence. “At least not the way her father thinks I have. We would never—”

Ivan knew Samson had kissed Cassie, but he’d never done anything like Mr. Villalobos had accused him of. Ivan had struggled to understand the connection between Cassie’s father’s accusations Mrs. Villalobos had been unfaithful to her husband with their dad. Ivan knew his dad worshipped the ground their mom walked on. It didn’t compute, but Mr. Villalobos had always had a volatile temper.

Noting the growing crowd, the uncle lowered his voice and said, “It doesn’t matter. Until we know what happened, and until he calms down, stay away. If this kills my brother, I’ll hold your family responsible.”

He and Samson had both pulled back at the man’s intensity, but seeing the distress in Cassie’s expression as she kneeled on the concrete in her marching band uniform and held her father’s head in her lap was the worst. As the uncle had stalked away, Samson had tugged his brother’s arm over his shoulder to help him walk.

“Come on. We’ll find a way to get in touch with her.”

“But you heard her dad.”

Samson had looked determined. “We’ll find a way.”

But they hadn’t. And soon they’d had bigger worries, like why their dad and Cassie’s mother had been hauled away in handcuffs from the ticket stand where they’d been working their service hours selling tickets to the game. They’d been counting the money before turning it in the president of the booster club when the sheriff had shown up and arrested both of them for embezzlement and conspiracy to commit fraud while members of the community had stood by in shock.

Their parents’ actual crimes were eventually sorted out. But the drama unfolding that night, the anguish in Cassie’s eyes as she’d been publically berated, the shock on everyone’s faces—those memories and the hurt had scabbed over but never healed properly.

She’d tried to call them that night and the next day they’d spotted her sweeping the front parking lot at Rudy’s with a heavy push broom—something one of the men or the bus boys normally did.

They’d tried to talk to her at school, but one of her cousins was always around, and when they’d succeeded and asked her how she was doing, it must’ve been reported to her father because the next day she was at the restaurant, washing down the outside of the big metal dumpster with a handheld scrub brush.

Feeling bad for inadvertently making her situation worse, they’d left flowers for her in her locker. The next day they’d spotted her with bandaged hands and fingers. After demanding to know what had happened, the cousin had finally had mercy and told them Cassie’s dad had set her to work in the restaurant flowerbeds, pulling weeds, and when that hadn’t taken long enough, he’d put her to work pulling weeds in the grassy area behind the restaurant where he could keep an eye on her from his office—all without any gloves to protect her hands. And then he’d set her to scrubbing the floor mats in the kitchen area with bleach and boiling hot water.

With teary eyes, the cousin, Josie, had said, “Guys, she can barely write today. When he saw her bandaged hands this morning, the band director told her she could sit out of band practice. She has a band contest coming up, and she said she couldn’t afford to not practice. I know you’re concerned, but you’ve got to stop, okay? With her mom in jail, she’s got no one at home to take care of her. Maybe…maybe after graduation, once she leaves for school, you can get in touch with her. She cries all the time. She misses her mom—and you, I suppose—and she’s hurting.”

Samson had seemed to deflate as he listened to Josie. “All right. Just…just tell her I…tell her…” His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat to try again, but she stopped him, compassion in her eyes.

“I’ll tell her. And I swear I won’t tell anyone I talked to you. You need to understand how it is in our family. The men rule with an iron fist. The women obey.”

Samson’s jaw had clenched. “Are they abusive? If they are—”

“No. But…you can see they have other ways to punish besides fists and belts. He will ease up on her if you’ll stay away from her.”