35. A Lot of Maybe
A LOT OF MAYBE
One of the most relaxing things about going home to the ranch was the sameness of it all, especially since Connor wasn’t in charge and didn’t worry about profits or paperwork.
No matter what changed in the world, no matter what asshole politicians did or what the price of things was, at the ranch someone had to feed, water and muck every day.
That was reliable and, he knew, true for a bunch of life.
Parents had to feed and water their kids whether they lived in a place like this or Eugene or Los Angeles, so he knew he wasn’t having a big philosophical revelation, but this morning it was as deep as he was going to get.
Also, the ranch made him stir-crazy after two weeks, which might be a character flaw, but was not a revelation. He’d felt that way for more than a decade, but at least it was less lonely when he worked alongside Jess.
At breakfast, their father said he was going to catch up on record-keeping and pick up some bedding pellets he wanted to try, from somewhere Connor hadn’t caught, so Connor and his sister would get to handle everything around the place today.
As soon as they finished the regular chores in the horse barn, then Jess would take the ATV out to the herd with the morning grain supplements and Connor would ride Cashew.
Jess was mucking the stall next to him and Cashew. “So…”
Not her regular tone, but Connor was doing one of his favorite things and did not care.
“Did you know we’re all going to a new church?”
“What?” He paused for a moment, then nudged his shoulder up into Cashew’s flank, and ran his hand down the inside of the bay’s leg until he popped up his foot for Connor.
“Yeah. Over in Willows Bend.”
“Lot farther.” With Cashew’s hoof bent up on his thigh, he dug the hoof pick right in to scrape away the gunk that had packed around the frog overnight.
When he missed the ranch, sometimes he watched videos of people picking horses’ hooves, the way other people watched house-cleaning videos or train ride compilations.
He hadn’t done that for a while. Huh.
“Almost an extra twenty minutes each way.” Jess started to empty a water trough that bozo Penny had pooped in last night.
“But I told Mom and Dad I didn’t like listening to the conspiracy theory anti-science stuff, and also, no preacher was going to tell me I had to submit.
I’m managing three hundred head right alongside Dad. I’m not gonna fucking submit.”
“You did not say fuck to our parents.” Cashew shifted, and that meant Connor had to shuffle, too. Squatting and balancing like this was yet another ranch workout guys paid trainers to do at gyms.
“I did not. But I did quote Lord of the Rings, the part about I am no man, although they didn’t notice. I’m not listening to anyone who says I can’t make my decisions.”
“Agreed.” He moved on to the next hoof. Jess didn’t stop working or talking.
“It was one too many submit thyselfs trad-wifedom infomercials, even at the Palm Sunday service, why, just why? Right after Easter, I said I wasn’t going back.”
“Good for you.” She was going somewhere with all this. He was pretty sure she was about to relate this back to him and coming out and had merely digressed into her regular anti-trad wife rant.
“Found a nice Episcopal place over in Willows Bend, like I said, and now we all go.”
He dropped Cashew’s foot to the ground and stepped over to his sister to pull her close.
They both smelled like they weren’t going to shower until after a day of work, and he knew if they stood still long enough some flies would move from the nearest manure pile to them, but he wanted to hug the ribs out of her.
Her arms snaked around his body to clutch him right back. “Just saying, they chose me over the old church. So maybe. You know. Maybe you shouldn’t be worried.”
He cleared his throat, but his voice sounded husky. “I have a lot to worry about.”
“Maybe not them.”
“That maybe feels pretty big. A lot of maybe.”
“Their hearts are pretty big, too.”
He wanted to meet her eyes, but he wasn’t sure what she’d see in his. “You’re a fucking boss.”
“No lie detected.”
They worked in silence for several minutes. Connor figured Jess was used to it, since she usually did these chores alone or with his father, who was mostly quiet, while their mother went out to chat with her chickens.
“You watched Bridgerton?”
“What?” Every time he said that, he pictured Jonathan rolling his eyes and tightening his lips over Connor once again using his least-favorite response.
“Bridgerton. The show. We’ve all been watching.” Jess moved to another stall but didn’t stop talking at him. “Got started late, but now they’re all into it.”
“That’s…” He was confused. Was she saying they should watch it together for family movie night? That would be super-awkward, for reasons he really couldn’t explain.
So, Mom, Dad, this is the scene where I paused to give Jonathan a hand-job. Really good scene. The best.
“They like it. Mom especially.” Jess wasn’t finished, he was certain of that. “She’s been remembering things about you as a kid and sounding pretty okay, like good vibes.”
“Because of Bridgerton?” How could the show be reminding his mother about his childhood?
“Yeah, I really think you’re good here, Connor. You should just tell them.” She paused and leaned on the handle of her pitchfork. “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m giving you advice. It’s weird.”
“Guess I’m just lucky?”
“More like needy.”
He bobbled his head. “Sure, I’ll own that. I’m kind of needy.”
“Does your boyfriend know that about you?” Her head tilted and her face lit up like she was about to laugh, mouth open, eyebrows raised, looking far too much like Ribby but sounding like Jonathan, and how was this his brain.
He felt the color hit his face. Looking at his boots did nothing to hide his cheeks.
“Eww. That is not what I meant.” And she was laughing, hard. “Got more photos?”
He snorted. “I sure do. But I’m not showing them to my stinky sister.”
“Jerk.