Chapter 6
Oakley
Darling Ranch looks the same as the day I left.
With a few notable exceptions.
“I assume you’re Ashley?”
The blonde who’s setting down a basket of biscuits on the long dining table inside the Darlings’ ranch house gives me a grin. He holds his hand out my way, the room around us bustling with activity. “That’s me. But just Ash is fine.”
“Nice to meet you, Ash. I’m Oakley Beaumont.”
“Oh, I’ve heard of you,” he says, letting my hand go. “Lawson’s friend. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I can’t say you’re it.”
I don’t have time to inquire further before Jackson trails into the room, his eyes unerringly latching onto Ash. The two exchange a quick smile, the besotted look on Jackson’s face the second notable difference at the ranch. His gaze finds me quickly.
“Oakley,” he says in greeting, plopping down in a seat across the table. “Welcome back. Looks like you’re already getting settled?”
“I am,” I tell him. “Ira’s been catching me up to speed.”
The older ranch hand gives a nod as he bites into a buttered biscuit from the gluten-free bowl. That’s new, too. When Laura was working here as a cook before Ash came along, there weren’t gluten-free options.
“Good,” Jackson says, preparing his own plate. “I’ll ride along with you today as a refresher. Hazel’s been retired, so we’ll get you set up with a new horse.”
“Something happen to her?” I ask. The mare is younger than the usual retirement age for a workhorse.
Jackson’s mouth twists. “Blind in one eye. Noah’s taking care of her now. You’ll probably see him around a good bit.”
“Noah,” I say slowly, when it clicks. “Noah King? The other farrier in town?”
“And Colton’s boyfriend,” Ash puts in, eyes practically twinkling.
I swallow my bite of food wrong, having to clear my throat before I can speak again. “I’m sorry. Colton’s dating his long-standing business rival? That Noah King? As in…a man?”
Ash is outright grinning now. “For the record, I totally called it.”
“When did this happen?” I ask, huffing a laugh.
Lawson’s mother, Marigold, takes a seat near the end of the table, her voice joining the fray. “Oh, not that long ago. They only made it official recently, but those boys were sneaking around for months before that. Welcome back to town, Oakley. It’s good to see your face.”
I give Marigold a genuine smile she readily returns, her brown eyes reminding me so much of Lawson’s. “It’s good to be back.”
She spoons herself some scrambled eggs. “Guess now I have an answer for why my son is smiling again.”
I go still, my pulse a heavy beat in my ears. I catch Ash wince, but I refocus quickly on Marigold. “You’re talking about Lawson?”
“Who else?” she says lightly, most everyone on the other side of the table involved in their own conversations, not paying us any mind. “No mother wants to see their child struggling. But you’ve brought a little light back into his life, and I’m grateful for it.”
I have no clue what to say. It’s one thing for Lawson to admit how much he missed me while I was gone and entirely another to find out he hasn’t even been smiling. For how long? Since the divorce? Before then?
Guilt once again rears its head, but he never said anything. He kept telling me he was fine. That everything was fine.
Until he showed up on my doorstep and demanded I come home.
It’s so like the man to try his best not to pawn his troubles off on others. As if Lawson hurting is his own pain to manage and not anyone else’s.
Doesn’t he get it?
He’s not alone.
“Oh, I know that face,” Marigold says, a happy lilt to her words. “Sure am glad you’re back, Oakley.”
I grunt, trying to decide how early is too early to haul Lawson out of bed and have words. Seeing some of the ranchers push back from the table makes me realize the breakfast hour is nearly up. It’ll have to wait.
I finish up my own meal and am slipping on my hat when I spot Remi come through the dining room door. The youngest Darling brother sees me, a smile jumping to his face as he signs a quick, ‘Hey, you’re back.’
‘I am,’ I sign in return, the motions feeling rusty considering my past few years of minimal ASL use. ‘Good to see you.’
Remi returns the sentiment, grabbing a biscuit off the table and sidestepping a few of the ranchers as he sends me an off-balance, ‘Catch you soon.’
I nod, heading with the remaining ranchers out onto the back deck.
Everyone is setting off toward their objectives for the morning, the sun casting only the barest hint of light over the horizon.
A haze is blanketing the land, dew from last night still hanging on the grass, moisture visible even in the air.
The clouds overhead are tinged pink, like cotton candy, and the dairy cows call their morning hellos, picking themselves up off the ground to head toward the big red milking barn.
This is ranch life. The beautiful. The nitty gritty. The earthy welcome of it all.
Boots thump gently on the deck boards, Jackson coming to stand beside me. “Gorgeous, isn’t it.”
It’s not so much a question as a statement, but I nod nonetheless. It sure is.
Jackson gives my shoulder a clap. “You leave again, and I’m setting my dad after you. He knows his way around a castration.”
I blink in shock as Jackson jogs down the handful of deck stairs to the grass below.
He stops, looking back at me. “Coming?”
With a laugh I can feel straight down to my heart, I follow Jackson toward the horse barn.
Yeah. It’s damn good to be back.
The day passes swiftly, albeit with a good dose of grime and grit. Jackson keeps with me through it all, but not much of the process has changed since I was last here, so it’s easy to get back into the saddle, literally and metaphorically.
By the time two o’clock hits, I’m worn out in the best way. Jackson sends me off with a hearty slap to my back, and I ride my new companion, Clover, back to the stables. He’s sweet, if not a little green. But I don’t mind the horse being young, not when he’s so quick to listen.
After dismounting, I lead him through the barn doors, several of the other first-shift ranchers getting their own horses settled.
The process doesn’t take all that long, removing Clover’s gear, giving him a wash and a brush, and rewarding his good behavior with a couple carrots.
He munches those up quickly, setting in on the hay in his stall next.
Remi will come through to feed the horses their grain later, once they’ve cooled down.
I give Clover a long pat down the side of his neck, his coat shining a rich chestnut brown.
“Thanks for the good first day,” I tell the horse.
It makes all the difference, having a riding companion you’re well suited to.
No one wants to be struggling with the reins while there are cattle to be dealt with.
The horse doesn’t answer, but his gentle huffing breath sounds a lot like contentment.
With a final pat, I leave Clover to his hay and head out of the stall.
I give a few goodbyes to the other ranchers, making my way across the grounds slowly, taking everything in again.
I can see Snickerdoodle the pony off in the petting farm, a few chickens passing near her feet.
The goats are running around inside the fenced-off space, their bleats audible, even from here.
I stop still when I spot Lawson on the back deck of the ranch house, reclined leisurely in a chair.
He waves, and I get moving again, heading his way.
“Good first day back?” he calls.
I pull off my hat, running a hand through my hair as I send the brimmed leather toward Lawson like a frisbee. He catches it, huffing as he sets it aside. “Just fine,” I tell him, dropping down in the chair next to his, the shade on the deck welcome.
“Only fine?” Lawson asks dubiously. His ankles are crossed, the whiskey-brown of his eyes watching me closely.
“It was great,” I say honestly. “Except for the part where I found out you’ve been struggling, Lawson, and not allowing anyone to help.”
He looks taken aback. “I’ve been fine.”
“Oh, now you’ve been fine. It sure doesn’t sound like it.”
His expression closes off slightly, a mulishness taking place that he gets from his mother. And his father. “I don’t know who’s been talking, but it’s nothing anyone needs to worry about.”
I scoff. “What were you just saying to me? That when you care about someone, when you love them, you look after them. Isn’t that right?”
He doesn’t say a thing.
“You don’t count in that?” I ask. “Why the fuck not?”
Again, no response.
“You’ve got so many people in your corner, Law. Why’ve you been shutting them out?”
“Because none of them could’ve helped me anyway.”
I huff. “Why the hell not?”
“They weren’t you,” he says forcefully, the words practically spat out. “None of them were you.”
“Jesus, Lawson. Sometimes I just wanna strangle you.”
He looks indignant, his face scrunched up in a way that almost has me laughing. Almost. “Why?”
“I was a phone call away!” I tell him. “Always. And you never said anything. Only ever, ‘I’m fine.’ You weren’t fine. And maybe I should’ve pushed harder, but I didn’t know it was so fucking bad. Goddamn it, Law. Why didn’t you ask me for help?”
“Because you were gone. You weren’t here. And I didn’t know how to ask for something I shouldn’t need in the first place.”
“A friend?” I question.
“A lifeline.”
My heart thumps painfully in the silence that follows those tersely spoken words.
Lawson drops his face into his hands, scrubbing harshly before he turns to me. “I had a lot to figure out after the separation, all right? Things about myself. About what I wanted. It wasn’t anything my family could’ve helped me with. I needed time. And I needed…”
He doesn’t say you, but it sits in the air regardless.
I unglue my tongue from the roof of my mouth. “I would have dropped everything and driven back here if I knew you needed it.”
“I didn’t want you to know,” he says, that stubbornness reappearing. “You were dealing with plenty.”
With Stevie.
I blow out a heavy breath, looking at the dairy cows in the field in front of us. Their tails are swooshing, the sun above high in the sky. “Why did you and Laura split, Law?”
I don’t need to see my friend to know he’s chewing his words. He must realize I’m not letting it drop this time because, finally, he says, “I wasn’t in love with her anymore. I’m not sure I ever was.”
I look over at him slowly. At the wrinkle in his brow as he stares ahead.
The pain in his eyes, and the set to his squared jaw that tells me he’s trying hard not to overshare his emotions.
It’s not something he’s ever been particularly good at.
And I realize if I’d been here, I would have known something was wrong.
I would have seen it on his face, as I can see it now.
Nineteen years, he was married to Laura. He was with her for twenty-two.
“God, Law. I’m sorry.”
He meets my gaze. “What for? You didn’t know. I didn’t even know.”
I shake my head. “Not that. I’m sorry for not realizing how badly you’ve been hurting.”
He swallows hard. “It’s getting better.”
“Is it?”
“Yeah.”
I nod, the breeze ruffling my hair and making a wind chime nearby sing a few notes. “All those things you were trying to figure out. Did you?”
He lets loose a breath. “Working on it.”
I hold out my hand, and, after a moment, Lawson accepts it. He doesn’t seem to mind the dirt on my palm. “I’m here now,” I tell him hoarsely. “I’m here. So whatever you need from me, I’ll give it, all right?”
He nods, not saying a word. The chime sings again, sounding like the tinkling of bells.
I clear my throat as I let him go. “By the way, my parents want us over for dinner. Tomorrow night work?”
“That works.”
“’Kay.”
Lawson and I sit out on the back deck of the ranch house for some time, both of us watching the cattle and the breeze.
Ash drops off some iced tea after a while, offering a wink before he heads back inside.
Off to the west, the mountains rise toward the sky, their peaks nearly disappearing amongst the clouds.
Beautiful mountain. That’s what Beaumont means.
Maybe I was always meant for Montana.
Maybe I was meant for a lot of things I was too scared to claim for my own.