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Sixteen
Laney
Archer directed a semitruck to the haystack. Round bales were stacked like a pyramid on the trailer, two bales wide on the bottom and one row over the top. The driver got out and unhooked all the bindings that had kept the bales from tumbling out during the transport here from Nebraska.
I couldn’t believe that with a few calls, Archer had found good quality, affordable hay. Since returning after Kane’s injury, I’d built up what we had to make sure we had at least a year’s supply, but Ma wasn’t as good at math. She survived by ballparking, and while that might work most years—not well, and definitely not the way to optimize return—it was shit during dry years like this with the added problem of a new pest.
The truck unloaded the hay with one tip of its trailer. Ma had bowed out of the delivery. She didn’t say, but it was either because she couldn’t run the skid steer with the hayfork since the stack was neatly unloaded in one shot or because this was Archer’s doing.
She grumbled something about bringing in the hay that wedidn’t have to pay an arm and a goddamn leg forand left on a cloud of strawberry-scented vapor. There were still round bales in the ditches and in the field we hayed, but I didn’t want to stack it until the semis were done off-loading all the supply we’d ordered. The trucks needed the room.
I signed the invoices and waved the driver off. Another delivery was coming tomorrow, and one a day after that, and then my ladies would be nicely fed throughout the fall and winter. The sky was overcast, and we had a respite from the brutal heat we’d had most of the summer. There was relief all around.
I hopped into the old Ranger my dad had rescued from an auction and fixed up. Archer climbed in beside me. Kane and I used to argue about who got to drive the Ranger, but Archer never dove for the driver’s seat. I couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t have the urge to be in control at all times, if he was cognizant of not stepping on my toes, or if he wasn’t invested in the ranch like I was. I bumped through the field and along the pasture until we reached the yard.
“I can make you a sandwich,” I said when I pulled up next to the white barn we kept the Ranger in. He’d never said anything about the bologna sandwiches on white bread other than he didn’t want to eat my parents’ groceries. Ma wasn’t paying him, but I didn’t press. “We have leftover lunchmeat.”
Ma had not hesitated to eat the leftover food Archer and I had brought back from Medora.
“I’ll have to pass.” He gave me a regretful smile. “I need to go back to the motel and do some work.”
“Sure.” I covered my disappointment as he leaned in and kissed me. He was juggling being with me and his normal job—even though he was technically using vacation time.
He got out and paused with his hand on the roll bar. “Have you given any more thought to staying with me in the motel?”
He’d asked that question when we’d returned a few days ago. After a sex-filled weekend, the natural transition had seemed to be that I would stay in the motel with him. But when he’d asked, I’d paused. He’d given me a kiss and told me to think about it.
I had. A lot.
“It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s easier to be out here for chores and in case…” Who was I fooling? “It’ll be easier for me when you go back to Dallas.”
“And you’re so sure that’ll be the end of our marriage?”
It sounded like an honest question and not a challenge. So, I answered honestly. “I don’t want it to be.”
I didn’t think Norville would allow Archer’s attention to be split across the country. Archer and I hadn’t discussed long-distance options, like we both knew it’d create more issues than it’d solve.
He’d have to commute. Norville would hemorrhage at the idea. I could fly in and visit, maybe during the summer when calving was over or before we had to move and work cattle in the fall.
He didn’t push off the Ranger and storm away. “Want to meet for dinner?”
He might have been upset with my decision, but he didn’t show it. He still wanted to make time to be with me.
Breakfast, lunch, or dinner, I wanted to be with him all the time. I could drive to town, meet him. We’d eat at Rattler’s. Then I’d be wondering what happened after we ate. Would I go into his motel room with him? And once we were done having sex, would I stay or would I go?
He didn’t have much more time in Coal Haven, and I wanted to make it count. He’d met my family and my friends, and we’d worked and played together. But there was one place I wanted to show him. “Why don’t we brave Dan Anderson’s wrath and ride to his draw tonight?”
The corner of Archer’s mouth kicked up. “We could always ask him.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
He chuckled. “I’ll bring food.”
“Let me know when you’re on your way, and I’ll get the horses ready.”
“It’s a date.” He went to his car.
I bit my lip to keep from grinning like it was Christmas morning. How could I still be looking forward to a date when we’d been spending so much time together?
