5. Nora
CHAPTER 5
Nora
I t’s time to fix the freaking fences.
After riding the rest of the back fields yesterday, I came to the conclusion that fences come first. I told my dad when I got back, and he agreed, acknowledging that he hadn’t been able to get out to that particular stretch of fence in a while. I told him about the stallion, and that I likely knew who sired the girls’ foals.
My dad looked sad. I could tell he was worried that we’d have to tell the Wild Spur, but I told him that it didn’t matter. It’s not like they need one more foal.
I caught him up on everything else I saw yesterday, but I didn’t tell him about meeting the guys from the Wild Spur. One, I didn’t want to worry him. He kind of seems to have a chip on his shoulder about them, anyway, so I didn’t want to rile him up. Two, I’m just… not quite sure what to do about the interaction that I had with them.
It was… unsettling.
I was still thinking about the three cowboys when my alarm went off at three-thirty this morning. I wanted to make sure that I had plenty of time to get the equipment ready. We’ll need to bring the tractor out today and the post-hole thing that I really hate operating. I got up, washed my face, and decided to go tend to the horses so that by the time my dad woke up, we could be ready to go. The odds that the stallion will be out there before sunrise are slim, and I’d rather be in and out before I have a chance to see him, or his owners, again.
When I come back, my dad is still sleeping, which is unusual.
“Dad?” I say, knocking on his door. “You in there?”
I hear murmuring and swearing. “Be out in a second, Nora.”
Dad sounds… groggy. Huh.
I head back downstairs, letting every single step squeak along my way, since the time for creeping around quietly has passed. I put coffee in the machine, wishing desperately for a latte instead of just black coffee, when I notice some mail out on the kitchen table.
I walk over to it, curious. There’s some junk, as always. A card from one of the women in town who I suspect has had the hots for my dad for a while now. It’s unopened, which makes me sigh. Ellen is a nice woman, and my mom has been dead for twenty-one years. Dad does neither of us any favors by pretending that my mom died more recently than that. I wish he would move on, honestly.
Underneath that, though, are two thick envelopes. I pull them up. One is from the bank, and one is from the hospital. Both make my heart sink.
I open the bank one first. My eyes scan the text, the pit in my stomach growing bigger. I still can’t believe what I’m reading when the stairs squeak, signaling my dad’s arrival.
“I smell coffee,” he starts, but freezes when he sees what’s in my hands.
I wave it at him. “Were you going to tell me about this?”
“Nora…”
“Your loan application was rejected, Dad,” I say, unable to keep the anger out of my voice. “You can’t offer the property you want help with as collateral if you want a loan.”
“Look, I just thought that I would see?—”
“Dad, you have to tell me everything!” I shout.
My dad looks over at me, a frown on his face. “Don’t take that tone with me, Nora Foster.”
“Oh, now you’re going to act like an adult?”
“Nora,” he warns.
I start pacing, my anger fizzing at my skin. “No, Dad! The ranch isn’t just struggling. It’s drowning. The books look miserable. Why didn’t you set us up as a corporation? Now we’re held personally liable for all the mistakes, and with the amount we owe, we’re not going to be able to make our mortgage this month. And this? You tried to get a loan? That’s ridiculous. You can’t take out a loan like that on a personal asset?—”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” my dad yells.
I pause, looking over at him.
He takes a deep breath. “Look, your mom was the smart one, Nora. I’ve been running this place for twenty years based on the plan she made. But she’s not here to tell me what to do now, and I don’t know what needs to happen given all the challenges we’ve had in the past year. I don’t know what kind of words you’re using, asset this and collateral that. I just know how to run the ranch, Nora. That’s why I needed your help. I don’t know what to do.”
Tears gather in the corners of my eyes. It must have taken a lot for my normally stoic, share-no-feelings dad to tell me that.
I nod. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay. I’ll figure it out. How about we divide and conquer today? I’ll go fix the fences, you go to town and get the fire permit so we can burn the ditches tomorrow.”
“Nora…”
“We need to burn the ditches. They’re so choked with vegetation out by the alfalfa that the irrigation isn’t getting through. And if the alfalfa dies…” My voice trails off. Both of us know that selling alfalfa hay is one of our biggest streams of income.
He gives me a curt nod. “Fine. I’ll tend to the horses…”
“Already done. But Joan and Thunder both need a vet, Dad. They’re about to pop, and I am not going to deliver Thunder’s foal.”
He looks down. “Yeah, that seems a little dangerous.”
“Yeah. We can’t pay the vet, so maybe we can offer to swap for something?” Jen and Jim are the large animal vets we usually use, and they went to high school with my mom and dad.
He shrugs. “I’ll see when I’m in town today. ”
“Sounds good. I’m going to fire up the tractor and go,” I say softly. “I love you, Dad. It’s going to be okay.”
“Love you too, Bluebird.”
I come forward to give him a quick hug. He hesitates, then hugs me back. I turn, grabbing my phone before heading to the big garage where we keep all of our heavy equipment.
It’s only then that I remember the second letter.
What would the hospital want with us?
I’m still thinking about that second letter when I make it to the spot where the fence needs to be fixed. I wrestle with the equipment, getting the gas auger up and running after a few pathetic tries. If it’s not too rocky, I can use it. I set it in the dirt, ready to start, when I hear horse hooves.
“For the love of God,” I mutter, cutting the pathetic gas engine.
I look over at the horizon, and sure enough, the dark-haired, blue-eyed guy from yesterday is pulling up on his jet-black horse. He dismounts, and the horse nibbles some grass, eying both of us like we’re on a TV show.
“Mornin’,” he says cheerfully. “I brought some extra fence wire if you need it.”
“I don’t,” I reply. “And I don’t need help.”
“Don’t you?” He frowns, looking at the sad auger lying next to me. “I feel like the last time that thing ran, Clinton was president.”
“Runs fine. Thanks, though,” I say cheerfully.
He comes closer, anyway.
Sighing, I stand back up. “Look. What did you say your name was?”
In mock shock, he puts his hand over his heart. “You don’t remember? You wound me.”
“No, I don’t. Because I didn’t care to listen.”
“Honesty is a trait I admire in a woman.”
I snort. “Good, then you’ll appreciate me sharing my opinion with you. I don’t need you, and I don’t like you. ”
He blinks again, his lips curling into another little smile. “But you don’t even know me.”
“Oh, I know everything I need to.”
He throws his hands out wide. “Tell me all you know then, Hellcat.”
I bristle at the nickname. “You’re… what? Late twenties? Right about when cowboying gets to be pretty hard. You’ve probably worked on ranches or guiding hunting tours for the last ten or so years. High school diploma, barely, no plans for college. I’m going to guess that your favorite pastime is walking into a bar, ordering a tall Budweiser, and when whatever poor woman you’ve suckered into companionship won’t leave at the end of the night, you tell her that it’s just how you are. Can’t keep a cowboy in one place, darlin’,” I say in a mocking tone. “No use lovin’ a man like me. We’ll only let you down.”
His smile is ear-to-ear now. “You know my lines pretty good.”
“Yeah, well. It’s bullshit. That kind of oh-I’m-no-good-for-you garbage is just a way to excuse yourself from having any kind of accountability, which means you’ll never have a meaningful relationship in your life.”
“Or it means that I’m being damn honest about who I am.”
I bark a laugh. “That’s a joke.”
“Didn’t tell one this time, Hellcat.”
“You think that telling a woman you’re no good for her, then proceeding to be good and nice and sweet for one night, making it seem like you’re in fact a little better than you think you are, is being honest? That’s manipulation, jackass. Pure and simple.”
“But the ladies do love a man they can save.”
I throw up my hands. “No matter what, you’re proving my point.”
“And that point is?”
“I. Don’t. Like. You,” I snarl. “You, or your kind.”
He edges closer, his blue eyes twinkling. “What’s my kind?”
“Freaking cowboys!”
He laughs. “Afraid to cuss a little, Hellcat?”
I ignore him and turn back to my task. I’m digging around in my stuff for the old-fashioned post-hole digger, one that doesn’t require any type of gas power, when I hear the whine of the gas motor .
I spin. “Stop it!”
The guy looks up from where he’s tinkering with the auger. “What?”
“I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help. Get off my land before I shoot you,” I snarl. I didn’t bring the shotgun, again, but out here it’s a reasonable assumption.
He places the auger down before he throws up his hands. “Okay. All right then. Danger and I will continue on our ride. But at least take my cell phone number, in case that thing—” He motions to the auger, “—blows up on you and you need help.”
“If that’s the case, I’ll call my dad, who can actually help,” I sneer at him.
He studies me for another minute. He seems to be debating something, his blue eyes a little darker and less sparkly with indecision, before slowly nodding. “Fine then. Have it your way. See you around, Hellcat. You know where to find us if you need us.”
“I don’t need you!” I practically scream. I watch him and his horse gallop off. I frown, looking down at my hands. “Who names their horse Danger, anyway?” I mutter.
A freaking cowboy. That’s who.
Sighing, I grab the gas auger again. I must have left the manual post-hole digger at the barn. I pull the cord to start it up…
And the whole thing lights up on fire.
Gasping, I drop it. Then my eyes widen as I realize that I just dropped a flaming gas motor onto a patch of grass that’s essentially just a spot of tinder.
The ranch is going to go up in flames.
My heart slams in my ribs. No. No, no, no.
For a heartbeat, I consider yelling, screaming for the cowboy to come back. But it’s too late now. little sparks are jumping from the flaming tool onto the ground.
I need something to put it out. Water is too far, and there’s all kinds of oil and grease in there that might react with it and make the blaze worse…
Fire extinguisher.
We keep one in the tractor because it has always seemed like a good idea. Grass fires and tractors are killers out here in the sticks, so my dad always wanted to have one on hand just in case. I dash up to the tractor, open the cab, and look for it…
There. Under the seat.
By the time I spin back to the flames, they’re already in a three-foot radius around the auger. I pull the pin on the extinguisher, praying with everything I have that this little thing will be enough to put out a fire that size.
For a second, nothing happens. I pull on the handle, and there’s nothing. Then foam sprays out of it, choking the auger and the grass fire together.
I spray until the canister is completely empty. My hand feels locked around the handle, and it takes me a concentrated effort to uncurl my fingers.
Panting, my chest heaving, I look at the spot where the fire was. I stare at it for much longer than necessary, making sure that it’s out. When I’m convinced that it won’t light up again, I climb back into the tractor’s cab. I start it up, my hands shaking with the adrenaline.
I need to tell my dad. It’s handled, it’s fine, but that was… scary.
As the tractor trundles away, I realize that the fence is still not mended. And the Wild Spur boys could still come over it… whenever they want.
Back at the house, my dad’s gone. He doesn’t answer his phone, so I assume he either didn’t bring it, or he left it in the car while he runs his errands. Shit.
I grab one of the beers in the fridge, opening it and taking a sip, trying to calm my nerves.
That was awful.
My phone dings, and I snatch it up, hoping that it’s my dad, but it’s Kendall. She sent a picture of her plane landing in Denver.
Kendall : Colorado for the week!
I call her.
“Well, I didn’t think it was that newsworthy,” Kendall drawls. Her voice, sonorous as always, makes something in me break open a little. I sit down, and my throat clogs with tears. “Nora?”
“Hi,” I croak.
Kendall sucks in a breath. “Girl, hold on. Let me get somewhere more private.”
I hear rustling, and then the sounds of the airport dim slightly. “What’s happening? What’s wrong?” she asks.
“Everything,” I sob. I proceed to tell Kendall everything. The ranch. The bank. My dad acting weird. The cowboys at the Wild Spur. The fire. It all comes pouring out.
When I’m done, she makes a little noise, and I can picture her pursing her lips to think. “So, while I’m all about three hot cowboys moving in next door?—”
“I did not say they were hot,” I interrupt.
“—you don’t think that they had anything to do with your digging thing exploding, do you?”
I freeze. “What?”
“You know. The fact that this Landon guy was like messing around with it, and then it lit up like the fourth of July?”
My mouth opens, then shuts. “Oh, my God.”
“Yeah. I mean, that’s what I’m kind of wondering, Nora.”
“You think he tried to kill me?”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far, but maybe he wanted to, like… have you in a place where you needed his help?”
That complete. Total. And utter asshole.
“I have to go, Kendall.”
“Nora. Wait, don’t?—”
“Thanks. Talk soon, and have fun in Denver.”
I cut the phone off, silencing her protests. Gathering my boots, I stomp to the door and get in my 4Runner.
It’s time to pay a visit to those stupid cowboys and settle this once and for all.