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“The Kent ranch.”
Carl nodded and pulled onto Main Street. “I heard you was gonna go work out there after losing your dad’s place.” Carl was also one of the prime movers of gossip in Hawthorne. She’d often thought he might be a driver for the gossip as much as for the extra income.
Calla’s mouth went tight but she nodded as Carl went on.
“Kent’s a good man. None of us was too sure about him when he bought up the old resort and moved here. What with his face all mangled like it is.”
Calla looked out the window, hoping to dissuade conversation but Carl wasn’t put off.
“But he and that wife of his are good folks. Just look at ‘em helping you out.” Carl nodded, glancing back toward Calla. “Good folks.”
Calla kept her gaze trained out the window. “It’s been a long day. I’m just going to close my eyes till we get there.”
“I bet. Heard you even had to sell your horse to the Mendoza boy. Awful sad. I remember seeing your picture in the paper with her when you won those first-place ribbons back in high school. Your daddy was so proud he carried a cutout from the Gazette and showed anybody who would give him five minutes.”
Okay, Carl was clearly getting up there in years if he thought that had been her dad bragging on her. Yeah she and Prissy had won ribbons—first place in the regional rodeo her senior year— but Carl must be mixing her up with someone else’s daughter. If her dad ever had anything to say about her, it was complaining how she wasn’t keeping up with chores, no matter how hard she worked her butt off. It was never enough for him.
She leaned back into the seat and shut her eyes. Carl eventually got the picture and stopped talking.
She must have actually fallen asleep because it felt like only moments later when the car was pulling to a stop.
Calla sat up, looking around. The big ranch house was dark. Little wonder since most ranchers woke up before dawn. She pulled out her phone and glanced down. It was ten-forty-five going on eleven.
She tipped Carl and then got out. She’d moved her stuff in and gotten the key yesterday. It was probably foolhardy and sentimental to have gone back to her own place last night. But she hadn’t been able to say goodbye knowing she could have one more night there. It wasn’t any easier to do it today, though, so she might as well have gotten it over with yesterday.
She shook her head at herself as she pulled her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the front door. Carl waited until she was inside before driving off.
There were a couple of nightlights that lit up the central staircase and she went up as quiet as she could. She didn’t want anyone waking up on her account. Mel and Xavier had three little boys all under six years old.
To her relief she made it to her room at the end of the hall without her encountering anyone. She flipped on her light. And then groaned when she saw all her still-packed boxes. The bed looked inviting. First, a shower, though.
Calla paused on her way to the attached bathroom, noticing a note lying on the pillow. She leaned over and picked it up.
Left a plate of food for you in the fridge in case you’re hungry. So glad you’ll be staying here. There was a little heart and then Mel.
Calla smiled. She didn’t know Mel very well, but from the few times Calla had interacted with her, she seemed pretty great. Food sounded good but still—shower. If ever she’d needed to wash a day off, it was this one.
She paused when she got in the bathroom, looking at her reflection. She pulled her hair out of the stubby little ponytail and ran her fingers through it. It was almost long enough to touch her shoulders.
She’d worn it short since she was a little kid. When Mom left, Dad started cutting her hair and gave her the same cut he did himself—he slapped a one-inch guard on the trimmers and mowed everything else off. In her late teens she’d started going over to Betty’s to get it cut there, but she’d still kept it short. What did she know about having girly hair? Nothing, that’s what.
She tugged on the ends and frowned at herself. She still didn’t know a damn thing about it, which was why she kept it tied back under the cap she always wore.
But maybe she could wear it down sometimes. When she wasn’t doing ranch work anyway. She frowned and turned away, turning the shower to hot and then stepping in.
The steam loosened her muscles but fifteen minutes later after shampooing and shaving, her mind wasn’t any quieter.
Maybe if she…
Her hand dropped down her stomach. And then lower.
But her usual fantasies weren’t quite—
Hey man, wrong bathroom. This is the ladies.
“Ugh!” She slammed the shower knob to the off position and stepped out, toweling herself brusquely.
She wrapped a towel around herself and then paused for her nightly ritual. She lifted up her left leg. And waited, concentrating hard to see if there was even the slightest tremor in the limb. Yeah, her dad’s Huntington’s hadn’t developed until he was forty-three, but plenty people experienced early onset. She dropped her left leg and lifted her right, going through the process all over again. Then her left and right arm.
