Chapter 3
Colton
Driving on the left side of the road is one of the most unnerving experiences of my life.
It’s not that Jonathan is a bad driver or anything, it’s just hard to come to terms with the fact that he’s on the wrong side of the car.
I decide that, instead of gripping the sides of my seat with white knuckles, I’ll put my new sim card into my phone and let my loved ones know that I’m alive.
It turns out, Mr. Chamberlain knew exactly what I might need upon arrival in this new country.
Waiting for me in the backseat of one of the fanciest cars I have ever set eyes on was one prepaid global sim card, an envelope with my new banking information, debit card, instructions for activating said debit card, a charging bank for my phone and an umbrella.
I set to work removing the sim card in my phone and replacing it with the new one before plugging it into the charging bank.
As soon as the mobile data kicks in, several text messages from my younger brother stack up on my home screen.
Wyatt: Did the redcoats kill you off already?
Wyatt: Do you have a new accent yet ?
Wyatt: Meemaw is getting on my nerves and you haven’t even been gone for twelve hours yet. When can I come visit?
Wyatt: No, but seriously, did you land yet???
A wide smile tugs at my lips before it falters, chased away by a crashing wave of guilt.
Wyatt is Seventeen. He was born when I was ten years old and I swore up and down that I did not need a brother, that he would just get in my way and get on my last nerve.
And, well, I wasn’t wrong – the kid drives me insane, but he’s been my best friend ever since I laid eyes on him in the hospital.
It’s such a surreal thing, to love someone so much that you feel like one of your limbs is missing when they’re not around.
Reflexively, I glance to my right, where he’d usually be sitting in the passenger seat of my truck and damn if it doesn’t feel like I’ve left both of my legs in Texas.
I gulp down the lump in my throat as I thumb my response to him.
Colton: I thought the immigration officer was going to send right on home, but I slipped him fifty bucks and he let me in. On my way to the estate now, will send you a pic of the car.
Colton: Also will keep you posted on the accent.
His response comes in seconds after I press send, and my heart aches at the thought of him anxiously waiting for me to check in with him .
Wyatt: Send me all the pics, I want to see the cars, the estate, the food and the women.
I huff a chuckle and shake my head.
Colton: In that order?
Wyatt: Maybe not, move the women higher on the list. I have to live through you bro, there are more cows than girls in this town.
Wyatt: Speaking of women, Meemaw told me to tell you to call her as soon as you can. I have some studying to do, but I’ll text you later. Be safe.
I send him the salute emoji with several hearts before finding my way to the video call app.
Our father’s mother, Meemaw as we affectionately call her, picks up on the third dial tone.
“HELLO?” She yells directly into the microphone, her wrinkled forehead taking up the entire screen. I fumble with my phone, frantically turning down the volume as I shoot apologetic looks towards where Jonathan isn’t paying me any attention in the rear-view mirror.
“Hi, Meemaw.” I wave into the camera, smiling even though I still can only see her forehead.
“Oh, my boy, it is SO good to hear your voice!” Every word she says is a strained shout, as if she’s worried I won’t be able to hear her from across the ocean. “Listen, I’m having some trouble with this thing, I can’t—” I hear footsteps and then Wyatt’s voice as the camera angle abruptly changes. Her face comes into view and Wyatt is right next to her, grinning with a quick wave before he disappears to return to his studying.
She’s now holding her phone at arm’s length, thanks to Wyatt’s help, and I can see her squinting at the screen.
“Oh, look at you.” She shouts, “I almost forgot how handsome you are!” She’s wearing her best apron and sitting in the small kitchen of our ranch-style home. She’s got her fine, gray hair curled slightly and it looks like she’s wearing a little bit of makeup.
“Me? Meemaw, you look like one of those movie stars, who are you all dressed up for? You cooking up a storm for those ranchers?”
After I accepted the job at Tewkesbury Estate, I was able to hire a couple of local guys to take care of the cattle on my family’s ranch – a task I usually take care of on my own.
“They just love my biscuits!” She yells with a chuckle, her free hand shooting to her chest in earnest. “I’m making them some cookies and a loaf of banana bread today, such good boys!”
I find myself wondering when technology will catch up and let us smell things through a video call.
“I’ll see about sending you some stuff in the mail. Wyatt’s been showing me some of them tictac’s of British food and it’s got my stomach turning.” She grimaces, genuine worry clouding her features. “You be careful, you hear? I don’t want you getting sick off that food. I wouldn’t trust it— ”
Her oven timer goes off and she begins to get flustered.
“I’ll let you go Meemaw, I love you, alright? I’ll call you later.” My throat starts to feel tight again as I wave to the camera.
She yells some almost intelligible sentiments into the phone before pressing it to her lips several times for kisses and disconnecting the call—likely with her chin.
I spend the rest of the car ride taking in the views from my car window. We were on an interstate-like road for a while, but now the roads are winding and narrow. I’m trying not to focus on exactly how two cars would fit down the road we’re driving on, so instead I keep my eyes on the rolling hills and green pastures that blanket the landscape.
It sounds silly, but I’ve never seen a green this deep and lush before. Even with the gray skies above, the fields outside my window are a color I’ve never seen before. I’m snapping some photos to send to Wyatt when Jonathan speaks for the first time since he started driving.
“We have reached the borders of the estate, sir, but it will take us another thirty minutes or so before we arrive at the manor.”
I take a second, looking out the windows once more at the luscious landscape. If we’re already on the estate, then all of this would belong to Mr.— Lord Chamberlain.
I nod in understanding as I respond, “Well, I’ll be.”
After twenty more minutes of staring, open mouthed, at the views of the estate, a large manor appears on the horizon.
Jonathan pulls left onto a tree lined road, each tree sitting the same distance from the next.
On either side of the trees, horses graze in pastures separated by picket fences.
“We have arrived.” He says, sounding like a fancy GPS as we park in front of the largest house I’ve ever seen. Jonathan is quick to hop out and open my door. I move slowly, mouth still wide as I take in my surroundings.
The house is... enormous. Calling it a house feels like an insult. Large chimneys jut out from the different sections of the roof and some kind of ivy covers swaths of the red brick walls.
Stables, outbuildings and various arenas lay beyond the gardens that wrap around the house. Topiaries and manicured flower beds pepper the grounds, old water troughs overflow with draping foliage.
“Uhm, Sir?” Jonathan clears his throat, and I’m torn from my awestruck state. How long have I been staring? “This is Rory, the head groom here at the estate.” He gestures to a lean, red-headed man.
I’d been so caught up in the beauty of the estate, I hadn’t even seen him standing mere feet from the car.
Rory stands at around six feet tall, hands behind his back and chin raised as he nods to Jonathan, acknowledging his introduction .
“I’m so sorry, hi—hello, Rory.” I step towards him, hand raised to shake his. Man, I hope he doesn’t think I’m rude for ignoring him for the past thirty seconds.
Rory’s lips quirk slightly as he looks from my face, down to my hand. He grips it firmly, before leaning in slightly and saying, “I know what you’re thinking, it’s a bit small isn’t it?” He jerks his head toward the looming house behind us.
I feel myself relax a little at his candor. I nod and smile as we break our handshake, “I ain’t never seen nothing like it, it’s really something.”
“Ah, just wait until you see the rest of the place.” He points a thumb over his shoulder towards the stables. “These horses live better than most people I know.”
I hear Jonathan close a car door behind me and I turn to find him carrying my duffel bag.
“Lord Chamberlain has requested that I give you a tour of your new home.” Rory continues as Jonathan hands my bag to me. “He’ll be wanting to meet with you later, but for now let’s get you acquainted with the grand Tewkesbury Estate.” He turns his palms up to the sky.
Rory speaks with an accent that I haven’t heard before, it’s a little closer to American than the British accent but I can’t seem to place it.
I turn to Jonathan and thank him several times before letting Rory lead me past the house and through a large wooden gate .
“I’ll show you your lodgings first and then we’ll head to the horses.” We walk past one stable block—there appear to be several—before we come to another building. This house is smaller than the gigantic one behind us, but it’s built in the exact same style. It’s as if the larger one had a baby, but it’s still far bigger than anything I’ve ever lived in before.
“This is the coach house, newly renovated a couple of years ago.” He continues as he opens one of the large archway doors and ushers me inside. “All of the Lord’s guests and visitors stay here. The rooms are more like suites, with their own bathrooms and enough space to swing a cat.” We walk through a wide, well-lit hallway before making our way up the stairs. We pass several doors before he turns to me. “And this,” He tilts his head with a little smirk again, “Will be your home for the next couple of months.” He opens the door, and my eyes grow wide as I step inside.
I’m not sure what I was expecting. I stayed at cheap motels and crashed on my fair share of couches during rodeo seasons back home—so, yeah, I guess I really don’t have much to compare this to.
The suite is showered in morning light as it floods in through the set of large arched windows on the far wall. A four-poster bed sits behind a large leather sofa, and I have a TV in my room. Meemaw would not approve, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her .
There’s layered, plush rugs on the floor which look like they’re just begging me to slip my boots off and wiggle my toes on them. The walls are decorated with hand painted art, all horse themed mostly, and this is when I realize that I’m doing the weird, silent staring thing again.
“This will do nicely.” I say quietly, turning to open the bathroom door to find it decked out with a claw foot tub and a separate steam shower. “Very nicely.” I say under my breath as I let my duffel bag slump down next to the bathroom door.
I notice that the trunks of clothes and horse-related gear I sent over a few weeks ago are sitting in a neat pile near the TV console. I spot the Texas flag stickers that Wyatt plastered all over one of the trunks and my heart swells a little in my chest.
I turn to Rory, keen to get on with the rest of the tour and to get my mind off the guilty feeling spreading through my bones. “Do you live in the coach house too?”
“Ah, I wish.” He chuckles, standing back against the door as I take one last look at the room before we both exit and make our way towards the stairs.
“I live in the main house, along with most of the other staff on the estate.” We pass a couple of young ladies dressed in white polos and khaki pants, one of them nods her head at Rory as they pass. They’re carrying freshly laundered bed linens and one of them is pulling a cart of cleaning supplies. “There’s a whole wing; the old servant’s quarters I believe they were—still are really!” He laughs, “And we all have rooms there. Still much nicer than anything I could have hoped for, but nothing on the coach house.” We exit the arched doors, and he leads me past two large stable blocks before turning and entering one.
“So,” His tone is upbeat and curious as we pass by several stalls, “A barrel racer, are you?”
“Not really.” I shake my head absentmindedly, taking in the stables around me. “But I know my way around a barrel. More of a rodeo rider, myself.” I place my hands in my pockets as we walk, taking in the high specs of the stable block.
I always thought my horses back home had it good, there were some people in my town that would prop a few pieces of wood up in a field and call it shelter.
I always made sure my horses were well fed and watered, poured money into the small stables that dad had built on the ranch before I was born. But, like many things I’ve seen today, they pale in comparison to these stables.
Skylights built into the roof make the space light and airy. Red bricks pave the floor while dark iron bars stretch above the wooden siding of the stables. There are name plates next to most of the stable doors, but most of the names are awfully long-winded and I find myself having to do several double takes to read them right.
“That’s awesome, I couldn’t imagine doing anything like that. I’m a jockey, myself.” That makes a lot of sense, he’s not short but he looks as if he might snap if a sharp wind caught him just right.
We take a right, passing more stalls and horses with fancy names.
How big is this place?
He stops and gestures to an open-door frame. “All your tack and equipment have been set up in there, some of those saddles are absolutely mad.” He chuckles, likely referring to the western pleasure saddles I had shipped over. “Chamberlain ask you for those, did he?”
“He did.” I nod, peering into the room to find the saddles mounted on the walls, bridles hanging down at their sides. “Right after I accepted the job. Told me to spare no expense, sent me a hefty bank transfer that same day. I thought it was a scam until I saw those zeros pop up in my bank account.”
When I received a decidedly frantic email from chamberlainlord65@gmail.com, stating that he needed to secure a riding instructor for his sons, I was more confused than anything. He’d found my contact information after reading an article about me being the youngest rodeo rider to be inducted into the National Rodeo Hall of Fame.
After corresponding with him over the course of a few days, we ended up speaking on the phone and he explained the job offer in more detail.
I was to spend at least two months at his estate, teaching his children how to barrel race, ride western pleasure and, most importantly, to be cowboys .
I’m sure you can understand my skepticism.
Of course, my ears perked up when he told me I could name a price, any price for my time. I sat down with Wyatt and Meemaw that night, speaking with them until the early hours of the morning. We decided that, since the move was temporary, I would take the job. The number we collectively came up with would be enough to send Wyatt off to college and to make necessary repairs to the ranch.
After accepting the job offer, it took me less than two weeks to move myself across the pond.
Rory huffs a chuckle. “More money than he knows what to do with, those kids will spend it for him though!” He gently elbows my arm. “Looking forward to teaching the boys everything you know?” He grins, coming to a halt.
“They a handful?” I ask, anxious to know more about the young boys I’ll be spending so much time with.
“They’re no bother, really.” He shakes his head, “Standard rich kids, just don’t let them walk all over you.” He turns at that, pointing his index finger at three stalls. “You’ll be working with these fine beasts. Chamberlain had them flown in from God knows where.” He nods to two of the stalls, “I believe the two smaller ones are—”
“Appaloosas.” I finish for him, leaning against one of the stable doors as a spotted pony comes up to press its face into my hand.
Appaloosas are perfect barrel racing horses; they often require a little more training than quarter horses but can be just as agile and eager to please.
“And this one is all yours.” Rory says as we move past the stables where the smaller ponies reside.
A beautiful paint mare stands on the far side of the stall, not bothering to grace us with her attention as she tears hay from her feeder. She’s a good sixteen and a half hands, at least, with one blue eye and four white socks.
“She is a beauty.” I say, leaning against the stable bars. I watch her swish her tail, likely in agitation of being ogled by strangers, before turning to Rory. “I’m guessing all of the feed and bedding are kept back there?” I gesture to the open door that sits opposite the tack room.
Rory’s expression grows a little confused, “Yeah,” He says slowly, “That’s the storage and feed room, but you don’t need to worry about any of that, we have staff that take care of all of—”
“Oh, it’s really not a problem.” I say with a smile, “I like to get my hands dirty, helps me get to know their temperament and all that. How soon can I get to work? I’ll leave the ponies for a different day, but I’d like to take this one for a spin.” I’m eager to get started, to know what I’m working with.
Rory’s eyebrows raise but he nods his head slightly, “She’s all yours, man.” He repeats, “Knock yourself out. There’s a large arena out these doors, just keep walking you’ll see it.” He gestures to the stable doors next to my mare’s stable. “There are a ton of bridle paths as well, if you fancy a ride around the estate. I’d make the most of the facilities while you’re the only one here though, we’ve got a big group coming in later today and they’ll be using the indoor and outdoor arenas as well—plenty of room for everyone though, you’ve seen the size of this place. Oh, speaking of—” He cuts himself off as his phone chimes in his back pocket. “Some of them have just arrived,” He reads the text with a grin before looking up at me. “Sorry, I’ve got to run off. I would’ve come out with you otherwise, but here—take my number and let me know if you have any questions or need help with anything. Like I said, I live in the servants’ quarters, and I’m always around so just shout if you need anything, lad.” He recites his number, and I plug it into my phone before he jogs off, heading in the direction we came in.
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask,” I call after him, making him turn to look at me, “Are you English? It’s just your accent is—”
“ Fuuuck no!” He laughs, pausing before he turns the corner, “I was born and bred on the Emerald Isle, County Cork’s my home.” He says in a singsong voice, pausing when I don’t immediately nod and put the pieces together.
Emerald Isle? I’ve never heard of it —
“Ireland, brother. I’m Irish, and don’t forget it.” He says with a wink and a mischievous smile before disappearing around the corner.
I decide that after I’m done with my ride, I’ll Google Irish customs and culture. He seemed a little offended that I’d mistaken him for an Englishman. The last thing I’d want to do is upset a coworker at a new job, especially one I could see myself becoming fast friends with.