She looks around for answers she won’t find, since she’s the one holding all of them either way.
“Please.”
Dom is still in the truck, but I’m glad he didn’t get out to witness the pathetic begging session going on right now.
“Do you want to go into town?”
No. “Yes!” A little lie; she won’t have to know. Do I want to gointo town and see all the people I left behind and never even reached out to while I was gone? Nope. Phony ass friend, some of them called me, and they were right. But sooner rather than later, I’ll have to, so yup, sure, I’ll go.
“I need to deliver eggs and honey today. You can grab the eggs from the coop, and the honey should be outside the apiary. I was supposed to deliver vegetables, but the garden is struggling right now, and I simply don’t have the time.”
“I can go! Do you need help with the garden? I can he?—”
“Don’t touch my plants, Riley!”
Okaaaaay. So grouchy. Maybe she and Dom can hang out and swim in their sea of misery together. How can you be so upset when the Earth is this beautiful? “Yup. Got it. No plants, just honey and eggs. I can do that.”
“Thanks. I’ll leave a note in the main house on where they need to go.”
I surge forward, wrapping her in my arms in a hug. “Thanks. You won’t be disappointed.”
“God, I hope not.” She frees herself from my hold, taking determined steps to her truck and shouting, “Let me know how it goes!”
Dom steps out of his truck, his eyes narrowing in question while I offer him a thumbs-up.
“Crisis averted. You can go now!”
“I can take you back.”
I shake my head. “Nope. All good! Go do all your rancher things.” I skip past him, not paying him any mind, before I turn and say, “Since you’re not a cowboy after all.” I wink and get on my way to my cabin.
Phew. That wasn’t that bad. Now, all I have to do is get the eggs from the chickies, honey from the beekeepies, and deliver them all safe and sound.
11STUCK LIKE GLUE
Dom
Dust hangsin the air behind me, drifting along the fence line while we plod forward at the pace of this horse, who knows the day’s work is almost done. I’m not in any hurry; the day might be over for him, but it’s not for me. The whole ordeal with Riley this morning put me a tad behind on the things I needed to accomplish, and I would regret it, if it wasn’t for the smile on her face at the promises her sister gave her. I caught myself rooting for her, which rarely happens.
I shift in the saddle and roll my shoulders, which feel like someone replaced my muscles with old fence wire. I have Riley to thank for that. I can already picture the way her full cheeks will tint raspberry red, how her eyes will stick to the back of her head in a sassy eye roll.
Stop thinking about her.
“C’mon,” I mutter. “Just a little farther, and you get hay.” Buck, the horse Arnold kindly assigned to me when I started without mentioning the fact that he’s untrusting of most peoplebut somehow trusts me, flicks an ear back, like he’s considering the offer but not impressed.
He might trust me, but I don’t know if he actually enjoys my company.
We’ve been out since I got back to the north side of the ranch, pushing stragglers back through the north pasture. Wind’s been blowing dust straight into my teeth all day. My hat smells like sweat, leather, hard work, and poor decisions. I should have just sent someone else to do this instead of trying to do it all myself.
All I want now is to drop Buck in the corral, eat something that isn’t jerky, and sit down long enough to remember what happiness used to feel like. Out here, it’s easy to do so, unlike back at home. I don’t know when I lost my north and stopped thinking about a life I should’ve been living, but tomorrow is never guaranteed. Losing my sister-in-law suddenly, just a few days after birthing her child, was the reminder I needed.
The barn sits low on the horizon, sunlight sliding across the roof. We can see it, and he acts like it too. Except, he might not be ready to go back. I guide Buck toward the trail that cuts down through the clear pasture, but he doesn’t speed up. He keeps his pace, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. We’re near the corral, ready to send him in with his buds, when I hear a sound far back.
I sit up straight. Buck stops—always in tune with me. I scratch his withers in a silentgood boy. The wind moves through the grass, rattling dry stems together. Maybe I imagined it. It wouldn’t be the first time, especially after being sleep deprived.
Then, it comes again.
“Hello?”
