Chapter 3
Ryder
The morning light filtered through the cheap motel curtains, waking me earlier than my alarm. I groaned, rolling over to check the time. Five thirty. Dad would be expecting me back by eight, which gave me just enough time to shower, grab some overpriced coffee, and make the drive home.
My body ached in all the right places as I sat up. I pressed my fingers against the bruises on my hips, savoring the dull pain. Evidence of my night out. I slipped a hand between my legs, letting a finger drag over my hole. I winced, a smile coming to my face. Another successful night at the bar.
The hot water in the shower felt glorious on my skin, washing away the remnants of last night’s activities but not the memory.
I took my time getting ready, knowing this would be my last moment of real privacy before heading back to the ranch, where everyone was always watching and judging.
Where my father’s eyes seemed to follow me everywhere on the ranch.
I pulled on my jeans, which were just a touch tighter than necessary, and a button-up that showed off my shoulders.
I stopped for a moment, studying myself in the mirror.
I looked just about the same as always. Nothing about my appearance screamed, “I let strangers fuck me in bathroom stalls.” It was my little secret, tucked away behind the mask of the dutiful son.
The drive back to Hell Creek was peaceful. I cranked up the music, rolled my windows down, and let the cool morning air clear my head. By the time I turned onto the long gravel drive leading to McGrath Ranch, I’d transformed back into the person everyone expected me to be.
Dad was waiting on the porch when I pulled up, arms crossed over his chest, that perpetual frown etched into his weathered face.
“Where were you?” he demanded as I stepped out of the truck. “I called three times last night.”
I flashed him my most innocent smile. “Sorry, Dad. Went out with some buddies from college. My phone died.”
He grunted, not quite believing me but not having evidence to the contrary. “The new workers are arriving at nine. I need you to help Larry get the bunkhouse ready for them.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied automatically, the words practiced and hollow.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “You look tired.”
“Long night,” I said truthfully, then added the lie. “Too many beers and not enough women.”
That earned me a disapproving head shake, but there was a hint of fatherly pride in his eyes. “You know how I feel about excessive drinking, Ryder. We’ve got responsibilities here. And the Lord doesn’t take kindly to that kind of behavior.”
I nodded, appropriately contrite. “Won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t.” He turned to go back inside, then paused. “And button your collar all the way up. We need to look professional for the new men. Don’t want them thinking this is a ranch they can slack off on.”
My hand instinctively went to my neck, where I knew a faint mark was visible. I quickly adjusted my collar, heart racing. “Yes, sir.”
Inside, I grabbed a quick pop tart for breakfast while Dad reviewed the day’s schedule.
Six new workers coming today, all ex-cons on parole.
There was a mix of crimes amongst them, but nothing terribly serious.
Most of it was drug-related or theft. But that meant that I and the other ranch hands would need to be extra perceptive about what kinds of things the new recruits were keeping in their bunks and what they got up to on their days off.
The last thing we needed was another incident like we’d had three years ago.
“Did you hear about those boys over at the Nelson Ranch?” Dad asked after a sip of his coffee.
“No.” Another lie. I didn’t look up from my breakfast, pretending to be completely uninterested.
“Saw Evelyn in town yesterday,” he sighed. “And she said those boys are engaged.” He paused, clearly waiting for me to lose my mind about it. “Did you hear me? Engaged.”
“Yeah?” I said, giving him a shrug. “That kinda thing’s been legal for a decade now. It’s bound to happen, I guess.”
“So, you’re just alright with a couple of fags living in town?”
I knew I’d already given him the wrong answer, so there was no reason to try to backtrack now. “Live and let live, Dad. Aren’t you the one always telling me that it’s not our place to judge? Only God can do that.”
He huffed at that. The man hated it when I turned his religious bullshit back on him. “But what about Evelyn?!”
“What about her? She’s a woman. Clearly they aren’t gonna molest her or something.”
“But a fine lady like her being exposed to that kind of… depravity?” He shook his head. “It just ain’t right. God didn’t intend for that sort of thing to happen.”
“I thought you said God didn’t make mistakes?”
He looked back down at his papers. “God doesn’t make mistakes. People do. And a couple of queers runnin’ Nelson Ranch is a mistake.”
I stuffed the rest of my pop tart in my mouth, pushing myself up from the table. There was no arguing with him when he got like this. The man refused to see reason and to see the hypocrisy in his own beliefs. It was better just to let him stew on his own.
I grabbed my jacket and headed out to find Larry, my mind still wandering back to last night’s encounter despite my best efforts to focus on work. The cool morning air helped clear my head as I made my way across the ranch toward the bunkhouse.
Larry was already there when I arrived, clipboard in hand, taking inventory of the bunks. He was in his fifties, with a permanent tan from decades of ranch work and a no-nonsense attitude that Dad appreciated. He glanced up when I entered, his weathered face breaking into a rare smile.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” he said, eyeing me up and down. “Wild night in town?”
I forced a casual laugh. “You know how it is with college buddies.”
“I sure do.” He winked and then handed me a stack of fresh sheets. “Make yourself useful, kid. Beds need to be made before the newbies arrive.”
“Ah yes,” I said with a nod. “I forgot my part here. Housemaid.”
I got to work, honestly grateful for a mindless task. Larry was one of the few people at the ranch who didn’t report my every move back to Dad. He’d been here since before I was born, and while he respected my father, he had a live-and-let-live attitude I appreciated.
“So, what’s the story with these new guys?” I asked, tucking sheets under a thin mattress.
Larry consulted his clipboard. “Six of ‘em. Mostly drug charges, one armed robbery but non-violent. Youngest is twenty-three, oldest is forty-four.” He looked up at me. “Your dad’s making you do the welcome speech this time.”
I nearly dropped the pillow I was holding. “What? Since when?”
“Since he decided you need to start taking more responsibility around here.” Larry’s expression softened slightly. “It’s your ranch too, Ryder. Or it will be someday soon. Your father’s pushing sixty-five. He knows the time is comin’.”
The weight of that expectation settled on my shoulders like a heavy yoke. I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. Dad had never let me handle the new recruits before. He always insisted on being the one to lay down the law, to make it crystal clear who was in charge.
“Don’t worry,” Larry added, misreading my silence. “He’ll be right there beside you, ready to jump in if you screw up.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I muttered, throwing a pillowcase on with more force than necessary.
We finished preparing the bunkhouse just as the sound of tires on gravel announced the arrival of the prison transport van. I straightened my collar one more time and headed out to meet my father on the porch of the main house.
Dad stood rigid, his black cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes, hands clasped behind his back like he was inspecting troops. I took my place beside him, mimicking his posture.
“Remember,” he said without looking at me, “these men need structure. Discipline. Clear boundaries. They’ve had none of that in their lives, which is why they ended up where they did.”
“Yes, sir,” I nodded, even though I wasn’t entirely sure his reasoning was sound.
“And don’t try to be their friend,” Dad added, his voice low and stern. “They’ll walk all over you if they sense weakness.”
I kept my face neutral even as I internally rolled my eyes. Dad’s approach to management was stuck in the past. He ruled with an iron fist with no exceptions. But arguing with him would only make this morning longer and more painful than it needed to be.
The van pulled to a stop in front of us, dust settling around its tires. The driver, a parole officer I recognized from previous groups, nodded to my father before she climbed out.
“Morning, Pete,” she called. “Got your new batch ready to go.”
“Morning Ms. Randall,” he replied. He wasn’t exactly warm with her, mostly because he didn’t think women should have her kind of job. But they had an understanding. “These boys better than the last batch? The last ones flew the coop the moment their six months were up.”
“When they’re free to go, they’re free to go, Pete. We can’t make them stay.”
“Well, they could be a little more loyal,” he shot back.
“You want loyalty, get yourself a dog,” Ms. Randall replied without missing a beat.
I couldn’t help but snicker and Dad shot me a dirty look. That woman, no matter how many times Dad tried, she always put him in his place.
Ms. Randall moved to the back of the van and unlocked the doors.
One by one, the new recruits filed out, blinking in the morning sunlight.
They stood in a ragged line, looking unsure and uncomfortable in their ill-fitting civilian clothes.
Some stared at the ground while others took in their surroundings with cautious hope.
Six men, just like Larry had said, each carrying a small bag of belongings that probably contained everything they owned in the world.