I hated being a charity case. Ironically, it had been my father who hammered into me the fact that a man needed to get by on his own. That you couldn’t and shouldn’t count on help from an outside source, because not everyone was worth that sort of trust.
If I’d only known that he wasn’t worth our trust, either. He had died and left behind an unholy, life-altering mess that kind of splintered the tiny family unit we were left with. Mom and I suddenly felt like strangers to each other, just because of one man’s selfish actions.
So she moved to Aunt Winifred and I took Payton and moved, too. Staying in my hometown hadn’t felt like an option.
“Oh, I like this song!” Payton—Tony—piped up from the backseat.
I turned the volume louder. I didn’t know where he’d heard it before, but it was a jaunty country song of some sort. He loved all things country music, which wasn’t my favorite, but he’d gotten the bug from his grandpa.
It was funny to think he loved the lyrics about failed romances and dirt roads and trucks when he couldn’t understand romance yet and definitely hated the dirt roads, especially if they billowed on a dry day. Now trucks he liked, but he’d once asked if we could get an SUV one day “when you have a job again, Daddy.”
About an hour into the journey, Tony fell asleep again. He often did in a vehicle. I’d plowed a bunch of fields with him strapped to my chest when he was little. He’d loved the tractor then, without knowing.
I got so angry when I thought of those fields. There hadn’t been that much land, but it was supposed to be mine and then Tony’s. Well, maybe not his, but if I ever had more kids. I wasn’t opposed, but I’d need a partner for that.
Me and Vera had been an accident, a mishap. So had Tony. The best one I’d ever made.
Half an hour outside the little town closest to the ranch, we needed a pit stop. I had crossed the county line a while before and found a service station with a bathroom attached. My boy was getting antsy and I couldn’t make him wait any more.
We quickly took care of business and washed our hands—to the amusement of a trucker who listened to a little boy lecturing about how important it was in his purposeful way of talking. Then I got more gas and we got back on the road.
Somehow, we made it to the ranch pretty easily and on time. Fifteen minutes early, even.
The driveway was super long, and I could see pastureland on either side of it for miles, it felt like. Then again, it was all mostly flat so it was hard to tell.
There seemed to be a herd of some cattle in various colors further away. I was pretty sure I could see at least a handful of different breeds based on the variation. Did they have a rescue of some sort?
On the other side of the road, closer to the ranch itself, I spotted quite a few horses.
Then the signs started. It became evident that all the different branching businesses had their own places around the propertyinstead of everything spreading outward from one common yard.
Suddenly I rounded a bend and the corner of what looked like an equipment shed, and the yard was right there.
I aimed the truck toward the parking spots by the house with the tall tree next to it, and soon a blonde woman of average height who looked a few years younger than my mom stepped on the porch. She had to be Jennifer.
As I turned off the engine and opened the door, I could hear the telltale sound of a donkey braying its head off.
“Daddy! They have donkeys!” Tony exclaimed with enthusiasm that I’d never before heard from him when it came to animals.
“It does sound like it.”
I got out and smiled at the woman.
“Mr. Trevino, I presume,” she said, smiling brightly as she walked down the stairs and held out a hand.
“Mrs. Harrington.”
“Please call me Jenn.”
“I’m Malachi or Mal, whichever works.”
“Daddy! I wanna see the donkey!”
I chuckled, feeling oddly elated by his excitement. “Excuse me,” I told Jenn and went to get Tony.
He wanted to be put down but held onto my hand. “Do you think I could go see?”
The noise hadn’t stopped.
