8. Landon
CHAPTER 8
Landon
A bout a week in, I have to say that I’m impressed.
Nora and her dad have done their level best to fix everything that needs to be fixed in order for us to get the horses into the fields we need to. Like, everything.
Honestly, they must be working around the clock. Because we leave at somewhere close to five, six o’clock every night, and come back at seven in the morning. And shit gets done while we’re gone.
They only have one horse and one rickety ATV. How on earth are they doing all of this? It blows my mind, honestly.
Today, I think they’re finally burning out the ditches near their alfalfa field. Technically, the fields we’re using don’t need to have anything burned out of them. The horses, vaccinated to the gills, can get water in the ditch itself, so long as the water is running. Plus, they’ll move out in the next couple of days, anyway.
While it’s not the most helpful thing for Shane and Clint, I hang out close to the alfalfa field. Just in case something goes wrong, I want to be on hand to help.
Something bothers me about the whole incident with the auger. When I was trying to get it to work more effectively, tugging on the rope that would pull-start the engine, it felt like… there was a catch. Like something had shredded the old white pull-start cable .
I know that I’m being paranoid, but I can’t help it. Those cords do break down with time, but it’s, like, a thirty-year thing. I replaced a pull-start cord in Clint’s dad’s chainsaw once, and he told me that thing had been in there since the sixties. The auger was old, but it wasn’t that old, that’s for sure.
I’m not sure why, but my hunch is that I need to make sure that Nora and her dad don’t need anything. Plus, Shane and Clint don’t need me right now. Clint’s got the horses, and Shane’s checking everything to make sure it goes along with his big evil plan.
At the moment, my only job is Nora.
I’m circling, trotting along with Danger, when I hear a shout. I turn in the direction of the burning, kicking Danger into a brisk trot. We change that to a full-on gallop when I hear Nora scream.
Danger and I barely crest over the small hill when I see the problem. To burn ditches, you have to get a permit from the fire department for a reason. One of those reasons is that one of the tools that some people prefer is essentially a flame thrower. It’s a hose attached to a tank, and the older models sit on your back, literally like a flamethrower in a movie. And it’s currently strapped to Nora’s dad, who is clearly struggling with getting it shut off.
“Fuck,” I mutter. I grab a heavy tarp out of one of my saddlebags, a tool that I keep in there in case I need to lie down and take a nap while out in the field. I sprint forward. Her dad is fine right now; he’s behind the wall of flames. But that shit is getting hot.
“Hold on!” I shout, moving forward. I hold the tarp up, trying to keep a barrier between myself and the heat. I manage to edge behind her dad, who is doing the best job possible of keeping the flame trained on the irrigation ditch.
So far, so good.
“Mr. Foster! I’m going to disconnect the fuel hose.”
“Son, I don’t think that’s?—”
“You can either let it burn out completely or try to get it turned off, so which one is it?”
Clearly, he’s struggling with the decision.
“Took too long!” I yell. I’m going in.
I walk back to Mr. Foster’s back, examining the tool. The one that we have at Wild Spur is a top-of-the-line model. This thing is… old, which doesn’t surprise me. Wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest, actually, if it was some kind of Army leftover that someone bought at a discount.
But there should be a hose… ah. There.
I put my fingers around it and instantly hiss in pain.
“Fuck me,” I mutter. “That’s hot.”
“If you pull the fuel out, it’s going to set the whole thing on fire!” Nora screams.
I turn and toss the tarp at her. “Then throw this on it!”
She catches the tarp, her blue eyes wide. I turn back to the flamethrower. Surely to God there’s not much fuel left in this thing. I suck in a breath, pulling my shirt as far as I can over my fingers. I unscrew the hose.
“Lean back!” I yell to Mr. Foster.
He does. The angle tilts the unit on his back down and away from the active flames in front of him. Minutes later, I hear the hiss of the flames stop. Fuel leaks out onto the ground, but it’s relatively harmless. Behind me, Nora hovers with the tarp.
I look over at Mr. Foster. “Sir, I think you should probably step as close as you can to the ditch before we take this thing off. Maybe even in it.”
Seeming to get my gist, he nods. Slowly, he steps toward the ditch. When he’s right at the edge of it, he crouches, easing himself into the swiftly flowing water.
“Can you unbuckle it now?”
Mr. Forester nods, taking it off. He dunks the whole thing in the ditch, and it sizzles, before he pulls it out and tosses it on the bank.
“Fuckin’ piece of shit,” he grumbles.
My face splits into a smile. “That’s the spirit, sir.”
He looks over at me. “What did you say your name was?”
“Landon.” I stick out a hand.
“Richard.” He takes it.
“What the hell was that?” Nora shouts.
I turn to look at her. “What? ”
“You just happened to be there? Lurking nearby? While our very reliable fire management tool decided to explode?”
“Nora,” Richard says, the reproachful tone of his voice clear. “Landon just saved my life.”
“Did he, Dad? Or did he happen to be there because he knew you were going to need help?” she seethes.
“There’s no way he could have known that the valve was stuck.”
“Oh, he could have. Because he made it get stuck!”
“Nora Ellen Foster. I did not raise you to have such shit manners.”
Despite myself, I grin. Bringing out the middle name is the parent equivalent to a nuclear bomb.
“Dad, we don’t know them.”
“Well, we do now.” He turns back to me. I give him a hand and haul him up out of the ditch. Richard gives me a sharp nod. “Care to help us with the rest of the ditch, son?”
“I’d be honored.” I smile.
We walk down to the next section of the irrigation ditch. Despite Nora’s silent but effective protest, we get to work. All the while, she’s staring at the back of my head, trying to burn holes into it.
But hey, at least she’s looking.
About halfway through the day, she decides that it’s time to speak to me.
“How much is this going to cost me?” she hisses as she walks by.
I reach out, gently grabbing her hand. “Nora.”
“What?”
I huff. “I’m not going to calculate the cost of labor for saving your dad’s life.”
Her blue eyes dart, searching my face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m not going to take this out of the lease. Your dad was in a bad place. He needed help. I wanted to help. So, I helped.”
“You’re not going to charge us?”
I shut my eyes. Goddamn it, Shane. He and I would have words about this. “No, Nora.”
“That’s… well, I’d say it was nice, but it’s kind of a dick move to watch someone be strapped to a malfunctioning flamethrower and do nothing about it .”
I laugh despite myself. “That’s correct. So, can we let this settle, then? I’m not a dick, Nora. I mean, I can be, but overall, I’m not going to sit there and watch your dad get burned to a crisp without doing something about it.”
She seems to nod. “Jury’s still out on the whole ‘not a dick’ thing.”
“As long as I’m on trial, I guess I have a chance to advocate for myself then.” I wink.
She sighs, but I can see some of the tension is gone from her face. “Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“I bet you could sell rain in Seattle and mark up a premium in the process.”
I laugh at that. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘charming,’ Hellcat.”
“Is that what the girls say? Charming?”
“Oh, they say a lot more than that,” I smirk, pitching my voice low. I’ve been waiting for a chance to flirt with her, and now? I can finally take a crack at it. “In fact, I think they have some pretty rave reviews I’d love for you to consider.”
“Kid! Nora! Could use you!” Richard yells.
I smile, giving her a little shrug. I wave toward where her dad is standing, about fifty yards along the irrigation canal. “Duty calls.”
Without further ado, I turn. The grass is thick here, so my walk is a little slow, and I’m watching for snakes or holes that would come out to get me as I move. I’m ten steps toward the spot where her dad is when I hear something that makes my blood heat.
“Landon?”
I spin. Nora’s looking down, kicking a tuft of grass with her boots. I watch her for a moment, before she raises her eyes to meet mine. They sparkle, the blue a shocking shade that makes me catch my breath.
“Thank you,” she finally whispers.
My heart squeezes. And there’s no teasing, charming, or anything other than dead-ass sincerity when I respond.
“You’re welcome.”