2. Ethan
Ethan
The high-pitched beep sounds as my alarm goes off at… an ungodly hour. After sitting up in bed, I let the early hour try to convince me that this is the best time of day to function. Let’s just say the morning isn’t winning the debate.
In the end, it’s the first day of a new job that wins the battle to get me moving.
When Jesse told me the ranch wakes early, I didn’t think he meant before the sun was up. Before the dawn of time is what it feels like. It’s that early.
Rubbing my eyes, I flick on the lamp sitting on the nightstand and let my eyes adjust to the room. It’s definitely not what I’m used to, but I don’t hate it. I’m not pleased, but it’s definitely not hate.
I’m to experience the ranch by immersion, and while I’m not eager about the early mornings, I’m quite liking the comfort of the bed and the cozy comforter.
It’s far better than the horrible motel I stayed at for the last month.
Breaking up with my shitty ex was ill-timed on my part, but at least he paid for part of the motel out of misplaced guilt about being an asshole.
But that’s behind me, and I’m here at Snow Creek Ranch to live amongst the cowboys and…cows? Horses? Doesn’t matter. I’m here to live and enjoy the great outdoors.
A laugh escapes as I scrub a hand down my face.
Enjoying the outdoors might be a stretch.
I’m not what you’d call an avid outdoorsman.
That’s why I spend my days with laptops and phones, hashtags and search engines.
I’m sure it’s great doing all the things and touching grass.
I’m willing to give it a shot. Lord knows I need to change my life, and maybe this is the change I need.
I’m just not overly enthusiastic about it right now.
If it’s not the right choice, it won’t be the first time I’ve fucked things up. The only way to know is to try, and early hour aside, so far so good.
After shuffling to the bathroom, I locate the coffeepot in the tiny kitchen and fill it with coffee grounds and water, hoping for the best that I measured right since my eyes still haven’t adjusted. By adjusted, I mean opened.
I’m not a fan of this early hour, but I’m sure as fuck not going to be late on my first day. Shower first, coffee second, and coming in a distant third is food. My stomach growls, making its argument to move up in the line of priorities, and I turn to the fridge instead of the shower.
After moving in yesterday and making a run into town for groceries, I spent a few hours setting up social media accounts on every platform I could think of for the ranch.
It was slow going with the internet reception here.
Jesse at least apologized for that, explaining how the mountains and weather in this location made connections spotty at best.
I suppose it’s no different from losing a GPS signal in the city when you’re surrounded by blocks of business towers and then taking a wrong turn off a roundabout and going twenty minutes in the wrong direction.
Not that I’m still bitter about that or anything. I’m just saying I understand that signals for technology aren’t always what they should be. I’m nothing but adaptable, so I’m confident I’ll figure out a way to make this all work.
After a shower and clean clothes, I feel more awake and ready to find the guy who will be my personal fountain of knowledge for all things Snow Creek Ranch. A guy named Colt Beckworth, and that’s literally all I know about him.
The sun has barely chased the shadows from the ranch yard, and after looking out the window, I pause. Men lead horses out of barns. Some are already on horseback, hats on their heads and rope hanging from their sides, as they leave in one direction.
The others still standing with horses seem like they’re planning their day.
Two more mount their horses like it’s the easiest thing in the world and head in the opposite direction.
The ranch yard is still alive with activity, though, and after a glance at the microwave clock, I groan when I read the time as barely 7 A.M. How long have these guys been awake?
“I hope this Colt guy isn’t one of those talkative early-morning guys.” The coffee pot is still half full and I find a ranch-branded travel mug from the cupboard, filling it with coffee and splashing in some cream. “I can do early or talky. Not both at the same time.”
After shoving my feet into my sneakers and grabbing my coffee mug, I head outside to find Colt.
Jesse never told me where to look for Colt exactly. Just that he’d be in a barn.
Thankfully, the largest one seems to have human activity, so it’s my first choice.
Stepping through the door, I’m met with the sounds of water running and the broad back of a very tall man.
They sure make them big here in Colorado.
Not that I’m complaining. I’ve probably been watching him work for longer than is socially acceptable, though.
He holds a hose with a spray nozzle pointed at the cement floor of the barn. A bucket with a wooden handled tool, I assume is a mop of sorts, sticks out nearby. Do you mop barns? Is that something I should know?
“Excuse me,” I call, and the man jumps. An arc of water from the hose shoots higher than it should and lands on the wall at the end of the aisle.
He turns, but still holds the running hose forward as he does.
Water splashes in front of me, spraying the bottom of my jeans and sneakers, and I step back with a cry of surprise.
The water leaves its mark across my sneakers. The dark patches where the water sprayed are a sure sign I’ll have wet socks underneath.
“Sorry. You shouldn’t wear shoes in the barn.”
While I know he’s probably right, it’s early, and I just need to find this Colt guy so I can plan my day and get to work. I didn’t think I’d be hosed down first thing in the morning. Or at all, really.
“It’s fine.” I force out. “You’re right. It’s my first time in a barn.” I joke to let him know I’m not really as pissed as my face probably shows, and it must work because he visibly relaxes. “I’m looking for Colt. Is he here?”
He says nothing for a moment, and I’m not sure if maybe he didn’t hear me, even though the silence in the barn is almost deafening.
Shouldn’t there be critters or birds or even a radio on in the background?
All I can hear is the constant splatter of water on concrete, and it’s making me need to pee.
“That’s me,” he finally says, but remains firmly planted where he stands.
“Well, I’m Ethan. I was told you’re my go-to for all things ranch, and I’m hoping you can spend some time with me today so I can plan content.”
“Plan content,” he repeats as he finally lowers the hose to his side. The running water splashes on his giant rubber boots as he blinks his large brown eyes, like he doesn’t understand a word I’m saying. Maybe he’s not a morning guy either.
“Do you need coffee?” Thrusting my travel mug at him, his gaze drops to the mug. “I have some if you need it.”
Colt’s brow furrows. “Uh, no, thank you. I’ve had some.”
Oh. So he’s a man of few words, then? As long as he talks later, this arrangement will work just fine. I’d rather keep the coffee to myself anyway.
“Is this a bad time? I’ll go change and come back if it is? I’m not much of a talker in the morning myself, but…” My hand waves in the air, doing something I hope isn’t rude. “Work,” I finish. When he stares at me harder, I know I’m making zero sense.
“Sorry.” He drags a hand through his hair and nods to himself. “I’ll just need to clean this up, and I can do whatever you need.”
“No apology needed. How about I meet you back here in fifteen minutes? Is that enough time?”
Colt nods once. “Make it twenty.” He abruptly turns away, walking and pulling the hose along with him.
That could’ve gone better, but it’s ass o’clock, and I’m not at my best. I have to cut him some slack and not judge Colt on the first thirty words he’s given me. I’m sure I haven’t made a great first impression either, showing up to the barn in running shoes and pulling him from his job.
After changing into dry socks, shoes, and jeans, I exit the guesthouse to find Colt already waiting outside. That was a lot less than twenty minutes.
I smile at him now and take a moment longer to study the man.
He’s very tall with shoulders that tell me he works hard, but he’s not a weightlifter or anything close to it.
He’s slim but solid and carries himself in a way that’s different, and I can’t put my finger on it.
He’s switched out the rubber boots he was wearing in the barn for a pair of well-worn cowboy boots.
Which I absolutely love.
“I need a pair of those,” I say as I point at his feet. “I’ve been in Colorado for a year, and I still don’t own a pair of cowboy boots.”
Colt’s eyebrows raise like I’d just confessed something worse than not owning cowboy boots while working for a ranch. “Where were you before that?”
“Oh, a little here and there. I grew up mostly in Canada. My dad was in the military, and my mom was a visiting journalist from Minnesota. They met and had me, to make a long story short. But for the last five years, I’ve moved around the United States working contracts in marketing small businesses and writing articles freelance. ”
“Wow,” Colt breathes with what I think is a tone of amazement. “I’ve never left Chance. Unless you count going to the city for doctor appointments and shopping.”
It’s different that his comment is about where I’ve traveled and not what I do.
Not what I expected him to say, that’s for sure.
Most people ask what I write about, then progress to where I traveled.
Colt, though…he didn’t ask either of those questions.
He just seems in awe of the fact that I haven’t stayed in one place.
Colt turns without another word and leads me toward the barn we were in earlier. “Are you putting me to work in the barn? I don’t really have another pair of shoes to switch to if you’re using the hose again.”