3. Cole
COLE
The gateway sign greets me as I turn off Country Road: Rattlesnake Ranch.
The truck jostles over the cattle guard and I continue down the winding, dirt drive, past endless fields that stretch as far as the eye can see, to the specs of jagged mountains that dot the horizon, blurred by the dusty haze of the hot, dry afternoon.
I’ve been working here at the ranch since I was sixteen years old, when Mama Joy and Phil took me in.
I grew up with their son Dallas, my oldest and therefore best friend.
And when Dallas let slip (accidentally on purpose because that’s just the kind of loudmouth he is) that I was living alone a few months after the death of my mama, eating nothing but whatever scraps I could get my hands on, Mama Joy showed up at my trailer door one night.
She made me pack my bags and she brought me straight here, which is where I’ve been ever since.
At first, I was staying in the main house with the Shaws, going to school, working my keep on the ranch.
Then, after high school, Dallas went off to college to play hockey—he’s now the star goalie for the New York Thunder, about as far away from the panhandle as a person can get.
I stayed here, eventually moving into the bunkhouse with the rest of the cowboys.
I’ve spent nearly every day of my life for the past ten years busting my ass on the ranch, and my weekends riding the meanest fuckin’ beasts they can force into a chute, in the hope that one day I might finally make it onto the team, the pro tour.
Fort Worth. That’s the dream, at least. Ride or die.
Fuck it. Ain’t got nothin’ else to live for.
Equal distance from Amarillo and Lubbock, Summer is a small dot in the vast nothingness of the Texas panhandle, surrounded by canyons and plainlands, and the darkest of nights.
People have a tendency to go missing around here, and while some deserve it—their bodies never found, never missed—there’re others who don’t; innocent victims. As I look out over the unforgiving vista, my mind flashes back to those blue eyes that peered up at me back at the Stop and Shop, so full of fear and a contradicting fierceness I ain’t ever seen before.
Fuck, I hope she calls me. Maybe I should’ve done more, been more persistent. But I could see how frightened she was. Hiding behind a facade of bravado that didn’t fool me one bit.
When I found her in the parking lot, stuffing her things into the back of that beat-up maroon SUV with West Virginia license plates, my stomach twisted because I knew something was wrong.
The moment I looked into that little boy’s eyes, the little boy doing all he could to try and protect his mama, I knew I needed to help.
I didn’t know how, or even why—it’s not my fight—I just knew.
Because I’ve been that little boy before, only I never had anyone step in to help.
Not until it was too damn late, at least.
“Where you been, brother?”
I pause once I hop out of my truck, looking up to find Wyatt, one of the other ranch hands, leaning back against the side of the bunk house, smoking a cigarette in the shade.
“Lubbock,” I tell him, because that’s all anyone needs to know right now.
Despite being one of my closest friends, I’m not ready to tell Wyatt, or anyone else, about the appointment at the hospital.
I made a promise and I kept it. But I sure as shit ain’t ready for anyone to know exactly what the outcome of that appointment was.
CTE. Well, not right now, but inevitable if I keep riding.
The weight of that realization sits like lead in my chest.
Removing my hat, I run my fingers through my hair, looking around. “Where is everyone?”
“Brady’s driving back from Amarillo,” Wyatt says with a sniff. “Webber’s down at the pens with Boss and Doc. Drifters are out in the west pasture, diggin’ the ditch. I’m here. You’re here.” He waves his smoking cigarette in my direction.
We’ll start working the calves soon; vaxxing, branding, castrating, getting them ready for turnout.
It’s one of the busiest times of the year on a cattle ranch.
I hate missing out on it, but it’s considered to be too dangerous for me.
It’s almost laughable. Too dangerous? I jump on the back of a pissed off full-grown bull a couple times a week, yet a hundred-pound calf that can barely walk is too dangerous?
Rattlesnake Ranch is one of my major sponsors and they, nor my agent, want me doing something dumb like breaking an arm roping a calf when I need to be on the back of a bull on a Friday night.
It sucks, but at least I get to watch the rest of the guys make fools of themselves chasing a calf around the pen when it gets out of its rope.
“They need help down the pens?”
“Nah. Just about done.” Wyatt butts his smoke out on the sole of his scuffed boot, and I walk into the bunkhouse with him trailing behind me.
“You comin’ to The Saddlery tonight?” he asks.
“Nope.” I shake my head, removing my hat and my T-shirt. “Dinner.”
Wyatt lets out a low wolf whistle and I roll my eyes, spearing him with a droll look. “With Bailey.”
He has the decency to look contrite, nodding once. “How’s she doin’?”
I shrug a shoulder and grab my towel. “I think she’s doin’ okay.”
“You tell her I said hey.”
With a nod, I slap Wyatt on his back and continue through to the bathroom, desperate for a shower to wash away the day, and the lingering dread that my professional bull riding career might be over before it’s even truly begun.
The sun’s starting to sink toward the horizon, the heat of the day dimming as the light fades.
I pull up outside Bailey’s salon, Blondie’s—an ironic business name for someone who is very much not a blonde.
Flipping my ball cap backwards I hop out of my truck, and as if she’s been waiting for me, I see the sign on the door flip from open to closed.
Seconds later, the door swings open and a vision in a pink T-shirt displaying Dolly Parton’s face, Daisy Dukes, and cowboy boots steps out, her beaming smile hitting me deep in my chest.
“About damn time,” she exclaims, her smile turning wry. “I was moments away from raidin’ the goddamn Skittles jar.”
I sniff a laugh, pulling her in for a one-armed hug. “Sorry, Bailey Bay. One of the calves got loose so it was like an episode of The Benny Hill Show back at the ranch while four grown-ass men tried to catch the damn thing.”
Bailey gasps, holding a hand to her chest. “Is the calf okay?”
I nod. “Safe and suckling on its mama’s teat when I left.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” she says with a relieved sigh, snaking her arm around my waist. We walk across the street, heading for Pip’s diner, its pink neon lights lit up like a Christmas tree against the muted dusk sky.
Pip’s with Bailey Lester is my Wednesday night ritual and has been for years.
Bailey grew up in the double-wide trailer next to me. We used to sneak through one another’s windows on the bad nights, depending on whose daddy had had the most to drink.
Our Wednesday nights stopped when Bailey and Jax, one of my oldest friends, started going together.
Bailey and me have never been anything more than friends—hell, she’s like a damn sister to me—but I didn’t want Jax to think I was steppin’ on his toes, so I backed off.
After a while, Wednesday nights started back up at Pip’s, only then it was three of us; Bailey, Jax, and me as the third wheel.
But then the war broke out on the other side of the world, and Jax, the dumb son of bitch, enlisted his sorry ass.
A few months ago, Bailey got a knock on her door late one night that changed everything. Now, Wednesdays at Pip’s is just the two of us again. Bailey and me, and that persistent ache of loss I don’t think either of us will ever fully come to terms with.
“So, you gonna tell me how it went today, or was you hopin’ I forgot?”
Shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans, I grit my teeth, trying so hard to play it cool when I feel her brown eyes slide to me.
It was Bailey who not only scheduled the appointment for me at the hospital today, but made me go when she turned on the waterworks and cried on my shoulder, telling me she couldn’t dare lose me too.
She was there to watch my fall last week in Lubbock.
She was also unfortunately there when I collapsed afterwards right outside my trailer.
When she made the appointment at the hospital, she knew I’d say no way in hell, so she outright blackmailed me.
Either I get my ass to the appointment, or she tells Austin which would in effect jeopardize not only my riding contract, but my job on the ranch.
Austin is the Shaw’s eldest son and, after Phil’s sudden and unexpected passing last year, ranch manager; and he is not one to mess with. So, of course, I couldn’t say no.
“All clear like I knew I would be,” I lie, ignoring the nagging pinch at the back of my neck while doing my best to force a smile.
Bailey’s forehead puckers with a wrinkle of doubt. “Don’t you dare lie to me, Cole Dawson.”
I hold a hand up. “I swear to God.”
She guffaws, smacking a hand against my chest. “Boy, you ain’t stepped foot in church on Sunday since we was kids.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you, Bailey Bay,” I say honestly, crossing my fingers deep in my pocket and saying a silent prayer to Jax to forgive my lyin’ ass. “Just a nasty knock to the head.” I shrug a shoulder. “Ain’t nothin’ to worry about.”
Bailey’s eyes narrow as they search mine. I hold her shrewd gaze.
“Well, good.” She links her arm through mine. “Because lord knows I can’t lose you too.”
My heart sinks into the pit of my ass with the heavy weight of guilt, but I keep my chin held high, opening the door to Pip’s and allowing Bailey to walk in first.
The place is busy with its usual mid-week crowd, but our booth in the far corner is free, as it always is at this time on a Wednesday.
“Pip.” I wave a hand at Pippa, the owner of this place, and an institution around Summer. Pip used to feed me after my mama died. I’d stop by this place every night after close, and she’d have all the leftovers wrapped up in tinfoil, ready for me to take home to my empty trailer.
“Take a seat, kids,” she calls back in her trademark smoky tone, topping off a coffee cup. “I’ll be right over.”
“Take your time, Pip.” Bailey flashes the woman her megawatt smile before sliding into the booth.
I remove my wallet and my phone from my back pocket, releasing a heavy sigh as I take a seat, but the second I look across and meet Bailey’s dubious gaze, my hackles are officially up.
Does she not believe me? She gonna ask for me some sort of clearance from the doc? Can she? Fuck, I don’t even know.
“So,” she starts, eyebrows dancing, “I heard a rumor about you.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, because a small-town rumor I can handle. “Oh yeah, what now?”
“I heard you played the hero today at the Stop and Shop for a pretty outta towner who couldn’t pay for her groceries.” She flicks her long auburn hair over her shoulder, offering me a smug smirk.
My head falls back on a groan.
“Who is she?” Bailey presses, suddenly all excited, practically bouncing in her seat.
“Hell, I don’t know.” I throw my hands in the air. “She looked like she was in trouble so I helped out. No big deal.” Another lie. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that woman all damn day.
Christ, I’ve never lied to Bailey Bay in my life. What the hell am I doing?
Avoiding her eyes, I grab one of the menus that sits between the ketchup and mustard bottles despite ordering the same exact thing every Wednesday for the last almost ten years of my life.
“Cassidy Baker was none too happy,” Bailey continues, her tone teasing. “You know that girl’s been bidin’ her time, waitin’ for you to notice her.”
I snap my head up at that. “Cassidy? The brunette?”
She nods.
“Do I know her?” I screw my face up in thought.
“Cole,” Bailey chides, shaking her head with a low chuckle. “You made out with her a few weeks back. At The Saddlery. But then you… I don’t know… Apparently you went home with her best friend, Laci Chambers instead. Or, so I heard.”
I glance up to the ceiling, trying and failing to remember the events of whatever night that was. I grimace, suddenly feeling bad for acting like I didn’t know her today at the Stop and Shop. In my defense I really did have no idea who she was. Hell, maybe I am losing my mind…
“What can I say?” I shrug, flashing Bailey my trademark dimpled grin. “The girls love me. I can’t be held responsible for losin’ track of a few ’em…”
“You are so bad,” she murmurs with another shake of her head. Her smile wry but still full of the love she and I will always have for each another.