16. Carson James
16
CARSON JAMES
I watched the grainy feed from the trail cameras as Lennon dashed out of the bunkhouse, grabbed her things from her car, and hurried back inside. For once, I wished we had cameras inside the bunkhouse so I could watch her.
My head was spinning after her confessions this morning. I hadn’t wanted to leave her, but the ranch didn’t wait for anyone.
I was a piece of shit.
The feelings I had been ignoring since the night we hooked up at the bar had come back with a fiery vengeance. My suspicions that she was hiding something had been spot on.
She was hiding herself.
Frankly, the ranch wasn’t a bad place to get away from the world. It’s what I did.
“Thought I’d find you out here.” My father’s voice cut through the rustle of grass and the low din of the animals.
It was rare to see him up on a horse these days. A double hip replacement a few years back had put him out of commission for a while, but it was good to see him getting out. He had saddled Dottie, the sweet girl Cassandra always rode.
Anarchy flicked an ear their way, then decided she didn’t care that others were present.
“I’m always out here,” I said as I rested my hands on my thighs.
Anarchy shifted beneath me.
My dad held the same posture, surveying the herd without much commentary.
He chuckled. “You’re right. I figured after last night you’d come out here to do some thinking.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was up last night when Chef Maddox came back. Saw her slide off the road and get stuck. Almost made it out to offer her a hand, but she took off. When I saw you tow her car out this morning, I figured she’d gone to you.”
I didn’t delve into the details of Lennon showing up at my door last night, or what she had told me this morning.
All I knew was that I had some work to do.
“I messed up,” I admitted as the words clouded around me in the chilly morning air. I had said those three words as a kid more times than I could count, but my father was unfazed as usual.
Dad cracked a smile. “I’ll say. But that’s all right. Nothing you can’t fix, right?”
I recalled the hurt on Lennon’s face when I stormed into the restaurant kitchen and outed her identity to the staff like an asshole. She had hidden her fear behind anger and retaliation.
“I don’t know if I can fix this.”
“Take it from someone who has to do a lot of apologizing to his sweetheart on a daily basis. Saying you’re sorry is a good start. Flowers don’t hurt either.” He took a pull from an insulated thermos and offered it to me. “Coffee?”
I took it and downed a gulp, then sputtered. “Jesus! What the hell?” Liquor burned my mouth worse than the bitterness of the coffee. “Why are you drinking whiskey at seven in the morning?”
He took the thermos back and snickered. “What? I’m retired. It’s five o’clock somewhere. Having a little whiskey in my coffee and riding a horse isn’t drinking and driving.”
He and I apparently had different definitions of what “a little” whiskey meant.
“I don’t think this is a flowers and apologies situation,” I admitted.
“I didn’t say it was a fix. I said it was a start.”
“Doesn’t matter if I get her forgiveness.” I sighed and gave Anny a little tap to get her going.
My father followed beside me on Dottie.
“She said she’s not falling for a cowboy.”
He chuckled. “Sounds like your Momma. I heard that exact same thing outta her.”
“Len . . . She’s not like Momma.”
He let out a blustering snort. “Really? She’s not hard-headed and argumentative? She’s not a workhorse who refuses to take time off? She’s not?—”
“Fine, you have a point.”
He grinned.
We wandered in silence for a while, checking on the bred and springing heifers. After that, we made sure the gates and fencing were secure.
“Took me a year to convince your momma to give me a chance, and we were starting on even ground. You’ve gotta dig yourself out of a hole first.”
Didn’t I know it . . .
“I don’t know how to handle her.”
He raised a wary eyebrow. “Well, there’s your first mistake. You don’t ‘handle’ a woman, so get that out of your vocabulary. You work with each other. You learn how to read her and meet her where she is, and she’ll do the same for you. It’s a partnership. You don’t ‘handle’ Anarchy. It’s a team effort, even in the courting.”
“I don’t know how to handle any of this shit. Everything changed so fast. One day we were cattle ranching and the next we’re a fucking tourist hotspot.”
He sighed. “You and me both, Son. I miss not having cars passing the house all the time. I even thought about putting up a fence for some privacy.”
“Say the word and the guys and I will get it up.”
He nodded. “But I also think about what it brought us. We’ve got the girls now. Becks, Cassandra, and Brooke. All the little ones. Though, Bree and Gracie aren’t that little anymore. And I hate to admit it, but the ranch was always about more than cows. This land is the place people come to when they need to escape. It was that for Nate after his deployments and divorce. It was that for Ray after his accident. It was that for Christian after Gretchen passed. It’s always been the place you hide. It’s been our haven for generations. It might be hard to get used to, but I don’t think sharing our refuge is a bad thing.”
Dottie eased over, putting us within arm’s reach of each other. Dad patted me on the back. “Don’t be selfish with your peace. Other people need it too. You won’t run out.”
I watched as he turned and rode back to the house, taking it slow and steady with Dottie.
There was something about talking to my dad that always left me with more questions than answers. Christian was the same. More than once, Cassandra had bitched him out for speaking like a “cowboy fortune cookie.”
It was fitting.
Winter wildflowers floated in waves as the breeze warmed with the rising sun. I loved the shift of colors in the foliage as the seasons changed. I loved watching the land come alive with each passing week and month.
There were a million reasons I never wanted to leave this land. That I never wanted it to change. I found them in the billions of stars. The endless sea of green underfoot. The steadiness of the sunrise. The peaceful sound of rain. The heat of summer. The battle against the land to make it productive and hospitable. The fruitful years that yielded after the work we put in. The partnership of man and animal for survival and success.
I loved the fight. And I wasn’t done yet.