Colt
Somehow, we’ve amassed an audience. Sure, they’re cattle. But I can see how it’s intimidating, nonetheless.
“Dude, you just gotta do it,” I say. My mare sidesteps. She’s watching the cattle; I’m watching Jonas pout in the middle of a hayfield. “We all fall off horses sometimes.”
Betty barks in agreement.
Sometimes I wonder if she can talk but chooses not to.
On second thought, she might’ve been barking because she thinks we should get to work moving this herd, and Jonas and I are killing her vibe.
He stares intently at a piece of alfalfa in his hands, plucking at it with his fingernails. “I don’t want to ride a stupid fricking horse again.”
“Fair.” I nod, looking off toward the tree line and adjusting my grip on his horse’s reins.
I let a moment or two pass, with Jonas kicking at the ground, dirtying up the toe of a slightly oversized cowboy boot Kate found for him in the attic.
After a few weeks of Jonas being on the ranch nearly every day, I offered up something a bit more fun than mucking stalls—heading out on the range to check on the herd—and he damn near tripped over himself to get to the barn.
Climbed right up on the horse without a fear in the world, and maybe the problem now is that he was a bit too cocky from the jump.
After five minutes, he insisted he didn’t need me leading his horse around.
Sucks to be knocked down a couple pegs.
“You ever think about how smart and stealthy wild animals are?” I ask after he’s had some time to work through his anger at himself.
“No,” he snarks.
“Well, like, there could be a massive mountain lion in that tree”—squinting one eye, I point at a towering fir not too far in the distance—“watching us right now. We’d never even know it. Best hunters around, waiting until the perfect moment.”
I watch his eyes lift to follow my finger, growing in diameter by the second until they’re the size of softballs. “You think there’s a mountain lion in there?”
“Could be. Or he could be chillin’ on that rock ledge beyond the tree. Laid low like a sniper.”
“Won’t it go after the cows instead?” He risks a quick glance away from the rock face to look at the herd, who are still keeping a wary eye on us—rather, on the dog. She’s keeping a damn close eye on them, too.
“That’s dinner. You’re like the free chips they bring out before the meal.”
With a gulp, Jonas steps in closer to me.
“My uncle used to say you don’t need to be able to outrun a dangerous animal, you only need to outrun your buddy.” My palm smooths over the leather saddle horn in front of me. “And this is a race you’re definitely losing on foot, dude.”
The gears are visibly turning in his head.
If I thought he was genuinely afraid of falling off a horse again, I wouldn’t push it.
But it was clear from the moment his ass hit the ground—his own fault for not paying attention and being sloppy in the saddle when the trail had a sudden steep part—that he was simply angry with himself. Embarrassed, too, I bet.
“Fine.” Jonas plods across the ground, dust clouding around his feet, ignoring the small nips Betty keeps giving his ankles.
I watch him with a raised brow. If he was out here with any of the adults who raised me, he would’ve been told to walk his sassy ass home.
The heel of his boot swings backward in a particularly theatrical stomp, and he clocks Betty right in the jaw.
An audible smack that makes her back off.
Considering she’s a working cattle dog who receives much worse from cattle on the regular, I’m not worried about it.
Probably felt like little more than a mosquito bite.
But Jonas immediately spins around, dropping to his knees in the dirt and calling her over to him.
He lavishes her with gentle pets, kisses, and hugs.
Showers her in whispered apologies. She’s eating up every second of his fawning, licking his neck and cheeks like she wasn’t eating cowshit twenty minutes ago, and trying to sit her thirty-pound body on his puny lap.
She knocks the chip off his shoulder in an instant when she bowls him over with the swing of her butt into his chest. He sputters under the weight of the dog’s front paws on his sternum.
“Betty, oh my God, let me get back up.” Jonas lies on the ground, scrubbing his hands over her fluffy neck in a flurry of dog hair and giggles. “I think she needs a puppuccino to help with her stinky dog breath.”
Fighting a laugh, I drop the split reins and climb out of my saddle. His small hand is warm when he grabs mine, and I tug him to his feet amid Betty’s unrelenting attack.
If it weren’t for all the puppuccinos she consumes, she’d be light enough that the jet force behind every swish of her tail would have her hurtling forward. Her muzzle’s shoved between his legs, nearly lifting him off the ground.
“Betty, goddamn. Give the kid a second to breathe, at least.”
With a snapping bark, she shuts me up.
“Okay, Betty Spaghetti.” Jonas smooths the mussed-up fur around her ears. “Let’s go get your treat.”
After helping Jonas back into his saddle, I mount my own horse and we ride across the field.
The air’s saturated with freshly cut hay, the sun’s pouring over the distant mountain ridge, and dust from each stamping hoof glimmers in the air.
It’s a slower ride than before, with Jonas noticeably cautious, and that’s fine by me.
“I hung out with my dad yesterday,” Jonas says after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
Relief courses through my veins. When Whit texted me to say he wouldn’t be coming out to the ranch, I wondered if maybe her ex had rescheduled. And then I couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to fuck his kid over again. Kept my ringer on loud just in case a guy needed to go fishing again.
After all, I might not know Alex, but I know the type. While my parents are still married, and my dad is still in my life, I learned pretty early on that his promises didn’t mean shit.
I tilt my head to look at Jonas—I lent him one of my Stetsons for the ride to help with the harsh sun, and it’s ridiculously big on his head. The brim slopes down well past his eyes. It’s a wonder he can even see where he’s going. In fact, maybe that’s why he fell off.
“How was that?”
He shrugs, apathetic. “He bought me that new PlayStation I was telling you about.”
Yikes. That’s not the kind of reaction I’d hope my future kid would have about spending time with me, especially after weeks or more apart.
“That’s cool. Thought you said your birthday’s in March, though?”
“He always buys me things after he cancels our plans and Mom yells at him. Wanna come over and play it tonight?”
“Shit, sorry. I can’t, dude. Got a long drive ahead of me so I can be at a bull sale first thing tomorrow morning.”
Watching the enthusiasm slip from his expression cracks something open in my chest. An old wound never fully healed.
The pout he’s trying desperately to hide makes me want to pay whatever consequences come from telling Austin I can’t go out of town, all so I can play five minutes of video games with this kid.
“Hey.” I soften my voice, eyes falling to where he’s delicately stroking his horse’s neck. “How about this coming Thursday? I don’t have any work to do Friday morning, so I can kick your ass all night long.”
He gives me a smug smile. “I’m gonna kick your ass, actually.”
“Oh, it’s on, kid. We’ll grab a bunch of snacks after we finish work. Maybe convince your mom to let us order pizza again.”
“I won’t be here on Thursday….” The sound of rubbing leather fills the uncomfortable air with the shifting of his butt in the saddle.
Trying not to skip a beat, I say, “No worries, I’ll bring snacks. You hanging out with your dad again?”
“My mom makes me do this stupid thing on Thursdays where I have to go sit in a room filled with baby toys. And I’m supposed to be there to talk to some lady, but she smells frickin’ weird and her hair is crispy like curly fries.
I don’t really talk to her, so then she makes me draw pictures, which I hate doing. It’s stupid.” He throws his hands up.
It takes a bit longer than I’d like to admit to figure out what the hell he’s on about.
But when it finally dawns on me, I don’t know how to respond.
I was that kid who had to sit in a room with a strange adult, though it was to practice reading, rather than talk or draw pictures.
In the long run, it could’ve been beneficial, but it sure felt stupid when I was Jonas’s age.
“Personally, I like to talk to Betty and the horses about what’s going on in my life. Sometimes they smell weird, but they don’t usually repeat the things I tell them.”
Jonas glances down at Betty, who’s dutifully trotting between us.
“Betty’s damn demanding, though. You’ve gotta buy her silence with puppuccinos.”
Jonas chuckles, smoothing putty over the fractures created when I let him down a few moments ago. We crest over the hill, winding our way back to the barn, and I shut my eyes to relish the heat and the speckled orbs of light on the backs of my eyelids with my face to the sun.
· · ·
Though Jonas has a way of slowing me down on the job, weekends without him on the ranch are when my workdays really drag. It’s too quiet without his kiddish giggle. Too boring without his smart-aleck comments. And Betty’s in a snippy mood, to boot.
On this particularly sunny Sunday, I can’t help but wonder if he’s fishing with his grandpa or doing something fun with Whit.
I hope so, for his sake. I was thankful to have an uncle, brother, and cousins constantly around when I was growing up.
They kept me busy—kept me from missing my dad while he was out cowboying for weeks or months at a time.
Probably the only reason I’m not riddled with daddy issues.