Chapter 8
Christine
It was three glasses of wine, but it feels a lot like a Mack truck ran over my head this morning. Lauralee is right. Wine and I don’t mix. Or we shouldn’t.
I’ll stick to beer and hard liquor instead. That makes me laugh until I wince from the pain in my throbbing brain. My mouth is as dry as a tumbleweed, but I can’t be asked to move just yet. I lie there with my arms wide as the tip of the sun makes its debut for the day.
I don’t have long, but I stay in bed until the last second, thinking about my night with Tagger and his family. It was fun and comfortable like with my own family because I’ve known them practically as long.
Reaching over to the nightstand, I take a few sips of water from the glass. I was smart enough to grab it before falling into bed, but I was too dumb to actually drink it to avoid a hangover. You can lead a horse to water, but apparently, I won’t always drink it.
I get up and start getting ready—washing my face and hoping to bring some life back into my skin, brushing my hair and teeth, popping an ibuprofen, and getting dressed.
I may not feel my best, but today doesn’t have to be a bad day.
After all, not only did I catch Tagger staring at my mouth like he wanted to kiss me, but he called me babe.
It’s probably careless to get excited over something so trivial, but I’ll chalk it up to the lack of prospects. One hot guy comes along, and every part of my being has noticed.
After a few gulps of soda and some crackers in the kitchen to settle the headache threatening to rage, I head for the barn.
“Pris?”
I turn to the sound of my dad but don’t see him. “Dad?”
“Christine?”
Walking around the barn, I look in the direction I believe his voice is coming from, but I still don’t see him.
Then he appears from behind a tractor at the edge of the cornfield.
“Dad?” I go to him so he doesn’t have to travel as far.
I can tell his back is bothering him again by how he’s redistributed his weight to the right to compensate.
“What’s going on?” I take him by the arm, hoping I can help the pain that’s tensing his face.
He pats my hand and works up a grin. “Morning.”
“Morning. Everything okay?”
Shaking his head, he replies, “Davey didn’t make it in this morning. His wife went into labor just after four o’clock.”
My chest squeezes in joy for them. We don’t get many babies around here, and Davey and his wife have wanted this one for years.
“That’s wonderful news.” But then the pieces fall together.
“Oh no, were you trying to herd the cattle?” My heart drops, knowing that’s not something he should be doing anymore.
“Someone has to, but as you can see, my herding days are over.”
“You don’t need to do that or anything else that requires a doctor to get fixed. I can cover for Davey if we can let the cows graze while I take care of a few of my other tasks this morning.”
We finally reach the front porch, and I help him sit down. He winces but starts breathing normally again. “You’re a good daughter, Pris.”
“You’re a good dad. Just stay here and rest. Enjoy the slower pace while I take care of what needs to get done.” I touch his shoulder. “Can I get you anything? Water? Some orange juice for energy? Breakfast?”
“I ate earlier. Stop fussing over me and get on with your day.”
He struggles to let anyone help. My brothers and I worked harder beyond our years than most kids, so I know what it takes to run this place. “Text me if you need anything. Okay?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Knowing my day just got a lot longer doesn’t help stave the headache away.
I think it made it worse. No use complaining.
The animals depend on us, so I head for the barn again.
After feeding the smaller animals on the farm, I saddle up my Palomino, Sunrise, and head to the back of the property to check on the cattle and see how far they’ve wandered from where Dad left them.
The sun is brutal today, and it’s only mid-April, making me think this summer is going to be as hot as Hades. Another thing I take mental note of to make sure we’re prepared.
Sunrise loves to run, so I let her loose on the way to the pastures.
The stampede strap wasn’t tightened, so when she really gets going, my hat is blown right off my head.
The strap anchors against the front of my neck, but the wind blowing through my hair and whisking through the cotton of my shirt feels too good to wrestle it back onto my head.
Pulling the reins, I slow her to a trot until I stop her at the top of a hill on the lower pasture.
The cows are fine and grazing through the wilder patches of grass that have arrived with spring.
I do a quick count, not worrying too much about finite numbers but more a general sense for now.
A breeze reaches this part of the property more often than the others.
It’s nice seeing the blades bend to the east under the cooling air.
Even nicer that it reaches up here where I’m sitting on my horse.
I take a deep breath and slowly release. As soon as a calm overcomes me, I find my head filling right back to the tip-top with a to-do list. With a gentle squeeze of my legs, I encourage Sunrise to walk, letting her go where she wants, which is a patch of the good grass she likes to eat.
I reach around to grab my hat and put it back on, tightening the strap under my chin and then adjusting in the saddle. I pull my phone from the holster at my hip and text my neighbor a few properties over:
Hi Marjorie, it’s Christine from Rollingwood Ranch. One of our hands out here and his wife welcomed their first baby. I wanted to see if you could send a pretty arrangement over to them? They’re on the west side of Dover County.
Time moves slower out here in hill country. I may not hear from her for hours or even tomorrow, so I start to put my phone away when it buzzes.
Hi, good timing. I have some pretty daisies in orange, pink, and yellows.
Out in the greenhouse, some heritage pink roses are blooming, and I usually have some carnations around.
I can put something together in this new white milk glass vase I got in.
I think this arrangement would be lovely to send them and perfect for the occasion.
Sounds great.
You know I love Rollingwood’s ribeye steaks.
She’s not subtle, but I prefer direct. I smile and reply:
How about four?
Neighbors around The Pass are always happy to exchange when they can. It’s something I appreciate.
More than generous. Is it from you and your dad or from Rollingwood?
The ranch. Thank you! And we can get those steaks out to you later.
You’re already short a hand. Since I’ll be out delivering the flowers, I can stop by and pick them up. It’s on the way anyway.
I’m covering his and my job today, so I appreciate it. They’ll be in the fridge box to the left of the porch. Thanks again.
Always glad to help.
With another text for my dad to get the steaks ready, I tuck the phone back in and secure it before turning Sunrise around.
I pet her neck and pat her body. She’s always been good with commands and starts back to the farm.
There’s an irrigation system that needs to be put on the track.
And then twenty thousand other things to do before I’ll be able to end this day. At least my headache went away.
When I reach the peak of the edge of the farm where cornfields are lined with green stalks in the early stages of growth, I see a figure in the distance on horseback.
It’s definitely not my dad by the build, and the silhouette is unfamiliar to our staff and hands, whom I’ve worked with and known for years.
I could pick them out in a lineup with my eyes closed.
Broad shoulders. Wide-brimmed hat. Cut in at the midsection, where I can only imagine a devilish V of muscle leads to bigger and better things.
I laugh, letting it drift behind me. A girl’s got to entertain herself somehow.
We don’t get a lot of visitors this time of year, so I ride into action.
“C’mon, Sunrise. Go, girl.” Riding fast enough to create our own breeze, I relish the cool air under the afternoon's hot sun. Not fifty yards ahead, the man stops, giving me a chance to realize that whoever it is, they’re riding Nightfall, one of our biggest and stubbornest horses.
Nightfall won’t let anyone ride him, making me more curious about who it is.
I ride Sunrise full speed to see what this is about. Until I’m not thirty yards away, and it becomes clear. I gasp and hold my breath unwillingly in shock.
Oh.
My.
“Tagger?”
The hat.
The boots.
The jeans that look so good wrapped around his muscular legs.
The shirt that I remember him wearing in high school that the man he’s become has outgrown.
Hot damn.
He looks better than I remembered he could, and I remember him fondly.
Very fondly. But sitting on top of Nightfall like it’s a horse he’s known for years by the comfort level the two share, I might fall in love altogether.
He pushes the brim of his hat up just enough to keep the sun out of his eyes, but those greens still blaze brightly underneath. “Hey there, Pris.”
Riding up beside him, I can’t hide the smile that insists on beaming just for him, even if he did call me that name. I pull the reins and squeeze my knees to come to a stop. “What brings you out to these parts, cowboy?”
“A little filly I wanted to spend more time with.”
I smirk. “Bluebelly is up near the house.”
He smirks this time. “Not her. Though she is quite a looker.”
I playfully roll my eyes. “She gets all the studs.”
Chuckling, he tilts his head, still staring right into my eyes. “I can see why.”
My smile falters. This doesn’t feel like a conversation over a horse. It feels more like an insinuation toward me. My lips part when I realize this is Tagger Grange flirting.