Chapter 4 #2
We drive down a two-track a few miles before a massive house with chestnut stained wood siding comes into view.
A whistle escapes my lips at the beauty of not only the house, but everything that surrounds it.
My place isn’t but half the size of this one and nowhere near as nice, with the red paint chipping wherever you look and a barn that’s just as weathered to match.
Not to mention, all the land beyond that used to thrive, but now is nothing more than scorched earth thanks to the fire.
Sighing, I try to rid the sadness from my thoughts. To allow myself time to appreciate what’s in front of me.
The main building has a wrap-around porch, a massive fireplace off to one side, and windows every few feet.
We get out of his Bronco and head inside.
The interior reflects the exterior, inviting, open and tidy.
When he had mentioned living on an old ranch this is the exact opposite of what I expected.
If this isn’t the dream, I don’t know what is.
After touring the main house, we walk toward the bunkhouse. I still can’t believe Sawyer offered to let me crash here—no, basically live here, no questions asked. I’m grateful though. Really damn grateful.
The bunkhouse is smaller, but has the same chestnut siding to match the main house.
The storm door needs its mesh replaced—an easy fix—and other than that, it’s beyond suitable for me.
We cross the threshold, met with a wide open studio-styled room.
A massive plasma TV takes up a good portion of the wall with a built-in cabinet that holds an entire collection of VHS tapes.
I scan the selection and smile when I see Young Guns among many more of my favorite movies.
A sofa and recliner sit to the right side of the room, with a bookcase separating the living space from a kitchenette and a small dining table.
To the left, three oak doors line the wall, and I assume there’s at least a bathroom and bedroom behind two of them.
“Sorry, it’s a mess in here.” Sawyer points out the minimal dust he finds on the counter, like it should be as pristine as the main house with no one living in it. I’m not bothered in the slightest, but after seeing how he lives, it makes sense that he is.
“Trust me, this is more than enough. A little dust don’t scare me.” I mean what I say and hope it relieves some of his stress, because he’s definitely relieving mine by letting me stay here.
I laugh, and the room descends into silence.
But not the awkward kind. It’s weird, most of my life I’ve grown up around chaos and noise.
From dinners around the table with Ma and Dad and Duke, to the loud hectic craziness of the rodeo scene.
Even the construction site. But Sawyer has this chill, quiet vibe to him that I appreciate.
It forces you to slow down a bit and think.
Maybe the quiet that’ll come with living here for a bit will help me regain the focus I’ve been missing and with any luck get me back in the chute faster.
“I woulda been happy to sleep in the barn over drivin’ everyday,” I say, finally feeling a sense of relief. “Thanks, man. Really. This is gonna help out a lot.”
“Don’t mention it.” He dismisses me with a casual unbothered wave.
Walking across the room, I look through each of the doors to find two bedrooms and a bathroom.
The bedrooms are nicer than my own room at my parents, decorated like the inside of the main house with thick-looking quilts and curtains that match the patterns on them.
The bathroom is bigger than I expected, with a large stone walk-in shower, toilet, and double vanity.
I smile at the thought of not having to share it with the rest of my family, or anyone at all, for that matter.
Shutting the door, we head out of the bunkhouse and toward the barn.
“The place is great. This is gonna make a helluva difference for me not to be spendin’ six hours drivin’ to and from work back to Brunswick.
” I turn my head toward Sawyer. “Oh, and Judd’s sister sure is gonna like not havin’ to say hi to Ma and Dad when she sneaks out. ”
He chuckles. “Do you actually have a thing for Judd’s sister?”
“No idea what she even looks like, but don’t stop a man from dreamin’.” I remind myself about our earlier conversation. “Speakin’ of which, I’ve got a few connections. If ya want to sing on a stage, I can find one for ya.”
“I’m not against it. Maybe I will sometime.”
I consider mentioning Gator Ray’s and how the manager seemed to love the crowd I always brought with me. I know Sawyer’s voice would easily do the same and the owner really could use some business.
He clears his throat. “You alright, Rhett?”
I wonder if the silence is the reason for his question, or if he just waited until now to ask me.
For some reason, I consider lying. It would be much easier than telling Sawyer my sob story.
At least for me, anyway. But I figure, not only is he doing me a solid, there will come a time when I get to go back to what I love, and him giving me a place to stay only puts me that much closer to it.
“I hate our job.” I blow out the information as if it’s some hidden secret no one would ever guess. Probably because I rarely complain and I fake a smile no matter how I feel.
He laughs, as if that information isn’t new to him at all.
“Me too. I’m only doing it because I have no clue what I want to do with my life.
The property is paid off, I rent the furthest fields out to the farms that surround me, I just felt it makes no sense to sit here and twiddle my thumbs.
” He shakes his head. “How about you, why are you doing it?”
“To save my family’s ranch.” My guts churn, realizing this is the first time I have ever mentioned what was going on with my family to anyone.
I feel a bit guilty, like I’m sharing something that would embarrass my parents even though it was out of their hands.
“Long story short, we just need the extra cash. We fell behind last year because of a fire on the ranch. We lost our cattle, some crops, and a few of our buildings on the property. The house is fine and so is the barn, but to rebuild and to make ends meet, we just need more money.”
“Oh, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” His voice is filled with sympathy.
I smile at his kindness. “How could ya? I always joke around about stupid shit and I never shut my trap, there ain’t no time for questions. The rest of the time we’re gettin’ shit done so Richy doesn’t go off on us.”
We laugh.
“Anyways, I used to work the ranch and ride bulls. A few months back, I fell off a one I’d recently won pretty big on and when I was tryin’ to get out of the pen he hit me from behind.
I spent a few days in the hospital unconscious and a few weeks doing some rehab to make sure I didn’t overdo anything too fast. Ya know, brain trauma and all.
” I shake my head, an irritated grin residing on my lips.
“I got cleared to return to ridin’ if I wanted to, the problem is money ain’t always fast and that last ride proved money ain’t always guaranteed either. ”
“Oh damn, do you think you’ll ever go back to it?”
“Yeah without a question.” I wish I could go back now, but not with the ranch weighing on my mind.
I’ve already proven to myself distractions don’t do me any favors.
“For now, I’m just aimin’ for fast money for my family.
So that’s why I’ve been doin’ construction.
" I look around at his property and the corral off the barn. I can’t help but notice that it would be great to practice roping in.
And then it hits me—I could rope in the meantime, I’d get to have a taste of the rodeo life without risking my life quite as hard.
Faster money that way too. Glancing back at Sawyer, a genuine smile finds its place on my lips.
"And now if I’m stayin’ here, I’m a lot closer to the jackpot ropin’ competitions. "
"Wait, I thought you said you ride bulls?" Sawyer’s brow furrows.
"I did. But I grew up ropin’ too, and ropin’ ain’t anywhere half as dangerous as ridin’ a bull."
Sawyer and I continue walking. I find myself looking around, mostly in awe of the quiet grandeur of this place.
But there’s also a startling quietness as well.
There isn’t any cattle in the pastures. No horses that I can see or hear.
I think of if my parents had a place like this, how much livelier it would be. Chaotic too, but livelier, no doubt.
We enter the barn, a prime example of excellent craftsmanship, with massive wood beams and stalls that look like they were made for the ritziest of horses.
I inhale the familiar scent of fresh hay, instantly feeling like I’m at home.
And then I hear a horse knicker before lifting its head over the stall door.
Well, I’ll be damned, there is a horse here.
"You ride?" I ask.
"A bit, when I’ve got time," Sawyer replies, nodding toward the horse. "Billy next door does most of his care since I’m gone all week, and then I tend to the rest on the weekends."
"Well, how about this?" I say, leaning against the stall door, a flash of inspiration striking me. "Maybe I could keep my horse here too, so yours ain’t lonely, and so I don’t feel like a dick for leavin’ mine back at my parents’ house.
I plan to do as many ropin’ events that Nashville and the surroundin’ areas have to offer, so best to have her and my trailer with me.
I’ll do the mornin’ and late night care for both the horses, and ya can cut on the cost of havin’ Billy out all the time.
If ya wont take my money for rent, then at least take my labor for it. ”