Ranch Life At Heart

CHAPTER ONE

– ROSETTE –

Swallowing hard, I take the man’s hand and shake it.

“Gene, thanks for coming.”

“Rosette,” Gene rumbles.

“Sorry to see you again so soon.”

I go for half a shrug and barely manage to croak, “It’s the way of life.”

We both stare down at the dead horse at our feet.

My friend Daphne steps closer to me and grabs my shoulder to show me support.

The death of my father’s horse Bronco has left me lost and brokenhearted.

It’s been exactly three weeks since my father died.

This morning it was hard enough to drag myself out of bed and start the long day of work around the ranch.

The cup of coffee I held in my hand when I stepped out on the porch fell to smithereens when I saw Bronco lying flat in the pasture.

I ran, knowing damn well he wasn’t sleeping because that horse was always up at the crack of dawn to welcome my father.

He kept going to the same spot after my dad died, and I tried to hold up the same routine.

It was as if the horse lost his heart when my father died.

Heartbreak. Maybe he died of heartbreak, who knows?

“The way of life indeed,” Gene rumbles.

“Still sucks balls.”

I nod in agreement.

Gene was here ten days ago as well to pick up our other senior horse who died of colic.

You can say it’s been one hell of a month.

“This time, it’s no colic,” I tell Gene who is here to collect Bronco’s carcass.

Daphne gives me another squeeze.

“Bronco skipped out on us so he could join his owner up in heaven.”

Gene nods.

“His best buddy, I know. Abel birthed the horse himself, pulling Bronco straight into the world when the mare had difficulties.”

I can feel a small smile tug at my lips.

“He would always tell the story to anyone who’d like to hear it.”

Gene releases a deep sigh.

“The reason why he walked in your grandfather’s footsteps and kept this ranch exactly the way it was.”

Fuck.

I feel tears stinging my eyes.

One would think I don’t have any left to cry since it’s all I’ve been doing for weeks.

Sadness is just too overwhelming at times.

“Shit will get better, kiddo,” Gene gently states.

“He taught you well.”

I bob my head, knowing I have to push through.

“Want some help?” Daphne offers.

Daphne has been my one and only friend through life.

We met in kindergarten and became best friends from that day forward.

She lives in town with her husband and two kids.

Where I work with my hands, taking care of the horses and teaching kids how to ride, Daphne sits behind a desk crunching numbers.

“I got this,” Gene easily states.

While the man walks back to his trailer, I drag my feet to say goodbye to Bronco one final time.

The beautiful Palomino Quarter horse lies frozen on the warm pasture where he always ran, filled with energy and joy.

I pull away when Gene comes closer with the equipment to pull Bronco into the trailer.

What comes next is the same process we did just ten damn days ago.

I can only hope the next time Gene has to show up is years from now.

There’s no way I can handle another death so soon after losing my father and the two horses.

More tears fall once it’s done.

Gene drives away and I keep staring, watching the cloud of dust rise and follow him into the distance.

“I hope it rains soon,” I murmur.

“Tomorrow,” Daphne states.

“Preferably during work hours and not when I need to drive home. I hate driving in the rain. Tonight, we’re going out and I don’t want to be drenched when we’re drunk.”

My attention slides to the pasture where my four horses are grazing.

I already mucked the stalls this morning and called off the only horse-riding lesson I had this afternoon.

“Getting drunk sounds perfect,” I agree and walk back into the house.

I walk straight past my father’s office.

The last time I was in there, I put his belongings in the drawer of his desk and closed the door.

I can’t bear to go through everything right now.

Maybe one day soon I will, but it won’t be today.

Daphne is right behind me when she watches as I grab my keys, phone, and wallet.

She demonstratively checks her watch.

“You do know it’s dinnertime and not–”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what time it is, Daphne. I’ve felt like shit for weeks on end and it’s time to not think for one damn night. Which means I’m going to need a few shots for starters, followed by a couple more. Early in the day means I’ll be home before midnight so I can get up early to get my work done.” I stalk back to the door.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Daphne grins.

“Fine, fine. I’m just happy to get you out of the house.”

I frown and lock the door behind me.

“I’m only home to eat and sleep and the rest of the time I’m working.”

She rolls her eyes.

“My point exactly. You’re always working the ranch. You’ve also been doing it nonstop after every-freaking-thing. Hey, maybe we’ll run into a handsome stranger you can bring home for a little hot action in bed.”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“As if. I can’t remember the last time I had sex. No, wait. Two years ago, when I bought Freckles.”

I get into the passenger seat of Daphne’s SUV, and when she gets behind the wheel she says, “You told me about that. Wasn’t he the guy with the wide shaved circles in his chest hair to bare his nipples? He liked them suckers sucked, right?”

Smacking myself against the forehead, I grumble, “Remind me never to tell you anything about weird sexual encounters. Yes, the dude also had shaved triangles above his dick. I didn’t bother to ask why. I could deal with the weird ‘free the nipples of hair’ shave, but the triangles? Nah, I told him I forgot something in my car and left. So, not two years ago, it’s longer since I’ve had sex.”

Daphne throws me a smirk and turns her attention to the road in front of her when she states, “Time to clear the cobwebs from your pussy and really put your brain on pause, Rosy. You need dick.”

Shaking my head at her revelation I mutter, “As long as his name isn’t Dick, and no damn shaved figures in chest or pubic hair.”

“Are you going to ask first?” Daphne snickers.

“You’d better be drunk for that discussion.”

I flip her off.

“I’m sticking with drinking. Besides, I haven’t met a man who sparks my interest in years. Not to mention, it’s way too early for drinking which means it won’t be busy anyway. By the time I’m drunk enough to hook up with someone I won’t care how he looks. Wait. That’s a lie. Ugh. I want to have fun tonight. No thinking, just drinking.”

“Look at you fancy rhyming a motto. We should have at least dressed for a night on the town. Want to borrow some lipstick?” Daphne waves her hand.

“It’s in my purse somewhere.”

I turn my head to watch the trees flash by.

“You know I never wear makeup and I’m not going to start now.”

“Suit yourself.” Daphne hits the blinker and guides the vehicle into the parking lot.

“I’ll call Jason and make sure we have a sober person waiting to take us home.”

Jason is Daphne’s husband.

They’ve been married for sixteen years.

Their oldest son is fourteen, their daughter is twelve.

Jason and Daphne are both accountants and have their own company.

“At least one of us is thinking ahead,” I murmur as I get out of the vehicle.

Daphne joins me and bumps her shoulder against mine.

“Final sensible action. Come on, booze is waiting. We’re going to do shots followed by karaoke and more shots.”

I shouldn’t agree.

Her voice is terrible.

Still, I find myself bobbing my head.

This does feel like a day I shouldn’t give a fuck about anything.

We step inside the bar and there are only a handful of people sitting with a beer in front of them.

All of them are over fifty years old, none are attractive.

Maybe it’ll take some shots to make me think differently, but for now it’s a definite no for asking about their shaved pubic hair.

Daphne gets us some cocktails along with two tequila shots each.

The sweet burn is a welcome distraction, but the cocktail is fruity and sweet, and completely delicious.

Two more of each and I’m thinking about singing.

Another couple of cocktails and I’m on stage singing my freaking lungs out.

Finally, I feel good.

Somewhere between a buzz and…

nah I’m way past buzzed.

More like happily drunk.

It’s probably why I still have the microphone in front of my face when I tell Daphne, along with the rest of the bar, that I need to pee.

Daphne bobs her head, and I shove the microphone in her hand to leave the stage.

There’s a bounce in my step when I head for the bathroom.

Quickly handling my business, I wash my hands and also my face because I feel somewhat flushed.

Taking some paper towels, I dry my hands and face and check myself in the mirror.

My eyes are glassy from the booze instead of all red and puffy from crying.

Small improvement, right?

I lean in and whisper at my reflection, “Feel that? Deep in your veins? The warmth of it?” Pulling back, I stand tall and firm my voice to add, “Bask in the sun any time of day ’cause that fucker always shines in your heart.”

I nod at myself, at the words my father used to say to remind me of the pride in our work on the ranch.

Day in, day out. No matter how hard it got or how much rain, and dark days.

Lift your spirits, chin high, and muddle through.

It might feel like it’s raining in my heart at the moment, and it’s why I need tonight for myself to remind myself of the sun that’ll always rise…

always be there…even in the darkest of days.

I grab the handle and swing the door open.

A new cocktail and another song to bellow out the words sounds pretty damn good.