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I ignored her and kept walking.
“They won’t get ya if you watch where you step,” Lily comforted.
“Yeah. Don’t step on them. They warn you with their rattle if you get too close.”
“I’m not going to do it!” Christy moaned. “Dylan!” she wailed.
“Okay, but it’s gonna be another four hours before we’re back at the ranch,” Lila commented. “Come on, Lily. Let’s go talk to those kids over there.”
I found Mark within earshot and his eyes widened and he shook his head. “Where’d you find that one? She’s hot, but wow; high maintenance.”
I nodded. “Agreed. She just showed up. How long is her stay?” I could only hope that she’d only paid for a week on the ranch.
“I’m not sure, but judging from the suitcase, she’s moving in.” Mark opened his canteen and took a long drink.
“Great,” I said, exasperated. Just fucking great!”
Remi
I arrived at the ranch with butterflies going wild in my stomach.
After my talk with Alan, he’d left, and exhausted, I’d fallen into bed after a long, hot bath. I had an innate sense of relief and I fell asleep with memoires of Dylan and his tender and passionate lovemaking.
This morning I’d called St. Jude’s and told them I needed another week before I could begin volunteering full time for the summer months because on an impulse, I’d decided to catch the first flight out to Jackson, Wyoming.
Dylan was so cute when he’d asked me to join him on the ranch that I gave into the impulse to spend more time with him. The flight out of Memphis left at 6am and when the plane landed, I rented a car to drive myself to the ranch. It had been a long day, but the hour drive was filled with anticipation, and I was excited to see Dylan’s reaction to my surprise visit.
With a two-hour connection in Salt Lake City and the flight time, the trip was over five and a half hours, and now the drive. I was travel weary after the trip to Clemson, Dollywood, and then back to Memphis, but I didn’t care how tired I was, I just wanted to feel his strong arms around me again. I decided to grab a quick shower and then find the group I knew would be gathered around a big fire for supper. My eyes were tired amd the bright lights of the oncoming vehicles didn’t help. I squinted, grateful that I knew the route like the back of my hand.
There were lights atop thirty-foot light poles in three places around the farmhouse and main barn, but I could see the orange glow from the campfire about a half mile away. It didn’t take me long to scramble out of the car, grab my bag, and find the key that was always left in the old blue flowerpot at the back door. Uncle Ben, Aunt Marin, the girls, and Dylan would all be with the guests around the fire and the chuckwagon enjoying a delicious dinner of barbeque, beans, roasted potatoes, corn on the cob, and biscuits. I hadn’t eaten all day and my protesting stomach was another reason to hurry.
I rushed through my shower, careful not to get my hair wet and pulled it back into a simple ponytail, slid into old jeans, a long-sleeved white T-shirt, and my beat-up old boots that I’d kept here at the ranch since I was thirteen years old. That was the last year my feet grew enough to need a new pair. That was the greatest thing about the ranch; everyone could be themselves; dress down, and not worry about anything as pretentious as how they looked.
It was dark, but the blazing fire was like a beacon in the night sky. I walked toward it as quickly as I could, but still careful to watch where I stepped. The last thing I needed was a sprained or broken ankle from falling into a gopher hole or worse, a snake bite.
As I got closer my heart started to pound and my pulse raced, excited to see the look on Dylan’s face. Happiness filled my soul and I felt breathless in anticipation. It had only been thirty-six hours since I’d seen him, but after the amazing shift in our relationship it felt like forever.
I could hear people talking and laughing around the campfire as my eyes strained to pick him out. I still had a quarter of a mile to walk and found myself wishing I could have driven my rental out to the cabins, but Ben and Marin had strict rules and no cars were allowed to leave the main yard; only horses could travel by the cabins and camp sites to keep the authentic feel of the Wild West.
Sparks flew up into the sky as another heavy log was hoisted onto the main fire, and the delicious scent of smoke, cooking meat and fresh air intermingled around me. I filled my lungs to capacity and my stomach rumbled. Cookie was a little old lady, but she was rugged, but she turned out magically fluffy biscuits in less than a half hour. She taught me how to make them with lard, flour, milk, and baking powder and bake them in a big cast iron Dutch oven that was hung on a metal rod over the open fire. She said the lard was the secret ingredient that made them turn out every time.
Continuing to walk, I could see Mark had his guitar and was sitting on a large rock near the fire. No doubt, he would teach them all the first night campfire songs. There was a routine that was followed to keep everything organized, fun, and safe. Mark didn’t have the greatest singing voice, but he could play acoustic guitar like a professional. I recognized the song he was playing as “A Horse With No Name.” It was an older song, but it was a classic and had been one of Dylan and my favorites growing up and I wondered if he’d requested it. It was easy to learn and soon the guests were joining in the “la la la” filled chorus, though I started to softly sing all of the lyrics. I smiled, thinking back on the numerous times that Dylan and I sang it at the top of our lungs, fighting to see who could sing the loudest. My eyes and ears searched for a familiar form and voice, but I didn’t hear him singing.
Everyone was engaged in the songs, with their food, and drinks they didn’t notice me when I came into the camp. Lily and Lila were on the far side of the fire, both sitting on big boulders and bent over their plates. Three other children joined them.
I noticed Ben and Marin emptying trash and taking up the tin dinner plates and returning them to the chuckwagon. I should have stopped to speak to them, but they were busy, and I was anxious to find Dylan.
He was leaning against a large log, sitting on the dirt in front of it and leaning back against the wood. The joy I felt faded when a young woman who was sitting on top of the log close to Dylan, grabbed his hand and laid it across her lap. I stopped dead in my tracks, the air sucked from my lungs and my heart made a sickening thud inside my chest.
What the hell?I felt a flush rushed to fill my cheeks with heat. My heart started to beat sickeningly in my chest. The woman was curvaceous and not dressed for the ranch. Her short shorts and crop top left little to the imagination. I recognized those big boobs and long brown hair; it was Dylan’s ex-girlfriend, Christy. But what was she doing here?
“My back is freezing but my skin on the front of my body is roasting from the fire. There are bugs and there is marshmallow all over my fingers! Let’s get out of here, Dylan. I want to go back to your cabin now. I hate camping,” she complained.
My breath rushed from my body at her words.Your cabin.
Oh, my God, I thought. What in the hell was I thinking coming here? Did I think that anything would be different after one night in his arms? Wasn’t I any different than countless women?
Had he invited Christy when I said I couldn’t come to Wyoming?
