Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
JANIE
I see Bittern come in from working with Deacon, and I stop to stare. I’m in my parents’ house, standing at the sink with a cup of orange tea. I’m restless, but I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I only have a half day left here, and I don’t want to go home anymore.
I think the breakup hit me harder than I thought. I don’t think this is just about the city or my job. It feels like something else.
Tea in hand, I go out on the porch. Orange light spills down the lane between houses.
I sink onto the bottom step so I can put my bare feet in the beaten down grass.
It’s warm, sweet smelling. Faintly, to my right, comes the sound of horses being brought in from the field.
I see my father standing in the barn doorway with Ed, talking with their hands on their hips.
Another man comes around the corner, leading a bay horse.
He skirts around them, heading up the center lane towards me.
His head is down, but I know right away it’s Bittern.
My stomach flips, which seems unnecessary, considering I've never spoken to this man.
Dipping my head, I watch him from the corner of my eye. He’s moving at an even pace, lead rope in hand but not guiding his horse. It's just walking along, head resting on his shoulder like it trusts him. I can see why it might. Even from afar, he’s got a steady energy, nice and level.
He passes by, and I watch him until he turns to disappear into the barn.
I stay put, holding my tea without drinking until it grows cold.
Finally, just as it starts to get dark, he comes back down the lane.
This time, he’s with another wrangler, but he’s not talking, just listening to the man chatter and nodding his head.
A good listener. I make a mental note of that.
Then he’s gone, disappearing down the lane. I go inside to find my mother in the kitchen, unwrapping some food from the mess hall.
“Where’d you come from?” I ask, setting my cup in the sink.
“Outside. I came in through the back.” She pats down her cropped hair, her face windblown and fresh. “I spent the day out with the new colts. Your father needed some help.”
I open my mouth, but suddenly, I can’t figure out what to say.
My mother always seems like she knows what she wants.
She’s centered, driven, and handles a lot.
I always thought I’d like to be like her someday, but now that I’m older, I think I’m too flighty to be that practical.
It’s moments like this when I remember she was my age once.
She probably didn’t have everything figured out then.
I want to talk to her about how homesick I am, but I know she’ll just beg me to stay. I wish I had a neutral party to advise me.
“I’m getting tired. Might go to bed early,” I say, heading to the stairs. I’m halfway up before I stop and go back down. “Hey, Mom!”
She leans into the hall.
“I’m staying an extra day,” I say.
She smiles then tempers it. Like if she gets too excited, it’ll scare me off. “That’s great, honey. Are you alright?”
I nod. “Yeah, just not ready to go back.”
“Are you thinking about Shane? Has he been bothering you?”
“Nah, I’m good, he hasn’t texted. I blocked him anyway. I just need some time to clear my head.”
We say goodnight, and I go upstairs, putting on an oversized shirt and crawling into bed.
The sky goes so dark, all the stars seep out of velvety ink and hang low over the ranch.
It’s quiet except for squabbling nightbirds and the distant sound of cattle settling.
For some reason, I can’t fall asleep. My sheets are scratchy, my pillow too hot.
I hear my parents go to bed, and then it’s total silence.
Frustrated, I get up and go down to the kitchen.
The light above the stove glows yellow. I flick on the burner and take a pan out, pouring a cup of milk and some hot chocolate powder in.
When my siblings and I were little and couldn’t sleep, we’d get up and make a snack.
Mom would always hear us, but instead of getting mad, she’d come in wearing her blue robe and make hot chocolate for everybody.
Sometimes, I think she put a little melatonin in it, because we went out like a light afterwards.
I smile. My parents were always so busy managing the ranch, but they made time for us.
In the dark, I sit at the kitchen table and think about everything, even though I don’t mean to. When I started my job, Shane was part of my life. I was trying to be the perfect new employee, the perfect girlfriend. In the middle of all that, I forgot to leave room for what I wanted.
Now that I’m surrounded by the quiet of the ranch, it’s all pouring back.
I forgot who I was, back when I was a little girl.
That thought sinks in, and it’s sad.
“Hey, honey.”
Jumping, I turn in my seat. Mom stands in the doorway, the stove light glinting off her cropped hair. She’s in the same blue robe, pulled close.
“You scared me,” I say.
She crossed to the table, sinking down beside me. For a minute, neither of us speak.
“You seem off since you broke up with Shane,” she says finally. “Is it keeping you up?”
I shrug. “You want some hot chocolate?”
She shakes her head. “I’m good, thanks. Tell me what’s keeping you up.”
“I don’t know
.” I tap the side of my mug, thinking hard. “I’m just rethinking some things. But…I don’t want to bring your hopes up and make you and Dad think I’m coming back when I don’t have plans to yet.”
“I know I get excited, but I promise I won’t pressure you.”
I give her a small smile. “Thanks.”
“Are you sure work’s going alright?”
“No, it’s all good,” I say. “I just…thought that life was what I wanted. You know, waking up with Shane, grabbing my latte from the cafe at the corner, driving into work, getting dinner at the take-out restaurant right by our apartment and watching TV together. I had everything planned out.”
“Of course you did,” she says, eyes soft. “You’re a big planner.”
Truthfully, I’m not, but I was trying to get better at it. I tap the cup again, frustrated little clicks. “Shane leaving kind of pulled the plug on that.”
“Oh, honey,” she says, leaning in to lay her hand on mine. “Shane isn’t the only man out there who wants the same things you do.”
“I don’t know if I want what I thought I wanted anymore,” I blurt out.
Silence. She takes a minute to think.
“You don’t have to choose right now,” she says finally. “You can stay here for a few days.”
I have a sip of hot chocolate, dipping the tip of my finger in to swirl the foam.
“I feel kinda silly. I think I looked at him and tried to make myself the kind of person who could fit into his life,” I admit.
“He wasn’t all that,” she says.
I roll my eyes. “I know that. Now.”
She makes a face I know well, the one where she wants to say something, but she’s biting it back. I narrow my eyes.
“Just say it.”
She gets up, pretending to wipe down the already-clean counters. I didn’t leave a single spot while making my chocolate.
“That new wrangler seems pretty nice,” she says lightly.
“Who?” My stomach jolts.
“Freya’s older brother,” she says with exaggerated casualness. “He’s cute—and single.”
“Mom.”
She shrugs, taking a wet rag and scrubbing at something in the sink. “What? I’m just saying. I caught him looking at you the other day. He seemed a little flustered.”
“Mom, I doubt he’s single and looking to mingle anyway. From what I hear, he’s been through a lot lately, with getting out of rehab and working on the ranch.”
“He has been through a lot.” Mom nods thoughtfully. “Poor Freya. They both had a real hard time.”
“What happened to the rest of their family?”
She sighs, shrugging. “There was a fire. The father and brother died in it.”
Now, I’ve lived out around Sovereign Mountain for long enough to know that’s not the whole story.
There’s a reason people shy away from some of the ranches further out.
Not too long ago, a fire and a murder-suicide conveniently took out one of the bigger cattle ranchers, a farm of two brothers.
The investigation was short, and nobody said a word when it was concluded.
Not long after, a member of the city government drove off a bridge for no reason at all. The list goes on.
These ranchers stand their ground when it comes to their land. If this was some kind of dispute, it’s better to pretend it never happened.
“Was Deacon involved?” I ask lightly.
She shrugs. “I don’t know what you mean.”
That’s a solid yes, but it makes me feel better.
For all this roughness, Deacon has never done anything terrible without proper justification.
My parents have been Ryder Ranch employees for years.
They’ve always held their ground that he’s a good man who sometimes does bad things for the right reasons.
“What do you think of him?”
“The new wrangler?”
“Yeah, Bittern.”
She’s giving me that look I can’t escape, like she’s got laser vision.
“Okay, fine,” I say, standing and passing her my empty cup. “He’s cute.”
“I knew it,” she says, pulling the dishwasher open. “You should talk to him.”
I duck into the hall. “Mom, I don’t want a rebound.”
“I was single for one day before I met your father—twelve whole hours,” she hisses after me as I climb the stairs.
“Goodnight,” I call quietly, shutting my bedroom door.