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Trent
This is some serious shit that’s fucked up! Crazy fucking fucked up. Why is it that when you finally meet someone that you could possibly see yourself with for a long time, that something inevitably comes out, totally derailing the chance?
Why can’t I find a lovely little miss and sweep her off her feet, bringing her here as my queen? When you don’t leave the ranch for hardly anything, you won’t find any gals beating your door down either.
Lost in a haze of tension, I think about last night and the kiss from Owen. He kisses me first. Has this been lurking somewhere in his heart? Hiding his true feelings for me this entire time? Nah, that’s something that he wouldn’t do. Owen absolutely would talk to me about an issue like this before it ever came up.
But how were we supposed to know that this little hottie would be our detective, and now guide or manipulate our sexual persuasions? It’s a thing that’s so foreign and not on my radar. I can’t help but feel weird about my best friend whacking me off. Or me whacking him off.
Looking around the barn, and yes, the same fucking barn from last night, for a small Phillips head screw driver. I can feel the stress mounting in my back and crawling up my spine. “Does anyone put anything away anymore?” I shout angrily, slamming a fist on the workbench and then outside of the barn. “Anybody?”
A few ranch hands stop what they’re working on to look at me. I wave a hand at them, and turn back into the barn, with an emphasis on the amount of effort in ignoring the hay pile. But I don’t. Shaking my head at myself and the lust that rages through my veins, I sigh loudly.
Man’s curse aside from tilling the ground, is that he has two heads and only one of them at a time can be in charge. And hers is to bring forth children in pain. I don’t know which is worse. And the possibility of a man with a man. Talk about cursing.
Passing by the hay, I walk to the back and finally have what I need. Picking up the tool, I head to the broken gate on stall number three. Removing the bracket and the hinge, I move them down a little to make new holes.
Just like my life. Every day it seems that a new hole digs into my heart and soul, making me crazy. Along with that, I’m losing sight of who I am. I thought I knew who I was until last night with the second threesome.
And me returning Owen’s kiss, wrapping my arms around him? It felt right. The fresh scent of pine and earth mingles on his skin, a manly sort of smell. One that says you work hard every day so take off and have some fun.
That’s what’s confusing me. We were, still are, the best of friends. But for how much longer? With the tension growing between us, I’ve got serious doubts that we could talk about this in a calm manner. But we should. Afterall, he is part owner of the ranch. And we’ll be together for a long time.
Thinking about all of the stuff that’s been broken, stolen, or killed around here, is draining me in a different way. The constant ‘on-guard’ feeling is relentless and I’m not sure I can take much more broken or missing items or cattle.
As I’m replacing the last screw back into the new hole, Elizabeth comes rushing into the barn. A surly sort of woman and aggressive as well, she bolts up to me with her hair wrapped in a yellow kerchief, little gray frizzies hanging out here and there.
I look at the ceiling and pray to god that it isn’t more bad news. I just don’t think that I have the strength to carry more. Enough is enough already. But when’s the last time Elizabeth came to me about anything? Nope, this is the first time that I can recall her ever doing so.
“Mr. Hawk,” she starts in her raspy voice, bending to catch her breath. She should back off the cigarettes. And the whisky. “The sign, the one out front. Your new entrance sign,” she gasps for air and finally manages to stand, looking me in the eyes.
“What about it?” I ask as I stand straight and tall, frustration leaking out of all of my pores in the form of sweat.
“It’s gone,” she coughs and you could hear the mucus wallowing around in the back of her irritated throat. Ugh!
I widen my eyes and put my hands on my hips. “What do you mean by ‘gone’ exactly?”
“It’s not there,” she wiggles her old head and holds her palms up. “I don’t know where it is. It isn’t there and I can’t find it anywhere.”
I throw the Phillips head down the length of the barn and angrily shake my fists at the air, “Isn’t it enough? How much more can one man take?” I settle down only when I see the fear etching across the older woman’s face. “I’m sorry.” I circle the barn rubbing my chin and thinking.
I look at Elizabeth who’s standing there like a frightened rabbit, eyes as big as saucers. “Can you go and get Owen. Tell him to meet me up at the sign?” I start to head to my horse, but turn to say, “Oh, and you needn’t run this time,” I say with a fake-ass smile.
Getting the blanket and the saddle, I start to load up the animal with anything else that I might need up at the main entrance. With the horse ready, I climb up onto her and take the reins, clicking my tongue, guiding the beast past the pines, heading to the front of Hawk Hollow.
With so many things flying around in my mind, it’s difficult to focus on just one thing. But what I do know, is that I’m about to erupt, spewing lava from my mouth on the unfortunate soul that happens to be next to me.
My anger is boiling and someone’s going to get the worst of it.
