15. brooks
fifteen
brooks
. . .
Don’t Ya - Brett Eldredge
Thursday morning comes far too soon after a Wednesday night spent shooting the shit and drinking beer with Ev and Jody.
Even without setting an alarm, I find myself awake at dawn.
I drag my pillow over my head and close my eyes again, surprised to fall back to sleep and see 9:01 on my phone when I wake again.
Ev and I both have the day off—another one of Mama Tanner’s enforced rest days—and after chilli at the main house with the ranch family, Jody and Everett came over to my place with some samples of beers for their pet project, Skillett Creek.
Skillett Creek is Mama Tanner’s brainchild.
She and Ms. Angie, Jody’s mom, came up with the idea of using a piece of land on the property boundary between the two ranches and turning Skillett into a destination.
Our vibrant small town had been growing quieter and sleepier, and local businesses were suffering.
But this project has put all three of the Farrow County Tri-towns back on the map.
We’ve spent the last few months building yurts, cabins, and large barns, and preparing for guests and events.
There’s even a reception lodge with space at the back for a tea room, although there’s no confirmed business moving into it just yet.
It’s been a huge undertaking, especially with two working ranches to manage at the same time, but we’ve all pitched in to make it happen.
Ruth helped with some of the planning, and put Mama Tanner in contact with the right kinds of lawyers.
Jody’s cousin Thea, an events manager, has been by a few times to check out the space and make sure we’re including all the facilities we need.
And now, people are coming to the ranch for little getaways.
They’re booking their parties and weddings here.
Our little town is lively again, and seeing Skillett thrive makes all of the long days worth it.
But damn, some of those beers were strong. It takes some real effort to drag my weary body out of bed and to the shower, but after a few extra minutes under the blisteringly hot spray, and brushing my teeth twice, I feel a lot more human.
Everett has taken Ruth into Austin for the day, so I’m at a loose end.
I contemplate a few ways I could spend my day, but after a bowl of cereal and a little doomscrolling that led me down an hour-long rabbit hole of fishing videos, I stuff my wallet and keys into my pockets, push my feet into my oldest, most comfortable round-toed boots, and head for my truck.
The ranch is alive with people as I guide my truck slowly along the designated roadways. My F-350 is big and noisy, custom-painted electric blue, and I couldn’t be inconspicuous in it if I tried. This truck turns heads, even on the ranch, where everyone knows it.
By the time I reach the stable block, the sun is high and bright.
I shrug off the flannel I’m wearing and bunch it in my hand, leaving me in a thin, white tank that doesn’t quite cover the ink on my chest. As I round the building, I hear a pair of familiar voices, and I follow their pull.
My gaze stays on the ground until it hits familiar boots and I drag it higher.
Long, tan legs encased in frayed denim shorts.
A little whisk tattooed on one thigh and a cupcake on the other.
A sliver of sun kissed skin at the waistband, before its hidden by a pink tank top.
The figure turns and I realize it’s another slogan shirt—this time, it says horses are better than people.
I’m inclined to agree. Dark hair in braided pigtails frames a makeup-free face, and the unbridled happiness on it brings a smile to my own face.
Colorfully tattooed arms hold my niece in place as she sits in Mayo’s saddle.
I feel like a creep, leaning against the side of the building and watching, but the image has something stirring in me. Ashton teaching a little girl to ride, wide smiles on both of their faces. That could be her daughter someday.
That could be my daughter someday.
Our daughter?
Get a grip, Hart.
I push away from the wood structure and stride over, just as Emmy Jean spots me.
“Unky Book!” Her small voice is loud and shrill, and I greet her with a big kiss to her chubby cheeks. “I ride a horse!”
“You are riding a horse! What a grown-up thing to do!” Emmy giggles delightedly. Ever since learning she’s about to become a big sister, she’s been obsessed with the concept of “grown up.”
“We’ve been learning how to stay safe with a horse,” Ashton says. She’s wearing a cowboy hat today instead of her usual ball cap, and damn, it suits her. “What do we do on a horse, Emmy Jean?”
“Reins!”
“That’s right!” Ashton cries. “We always hold the reins. And we’ve got our helmets and knee pads, too.” Emmy’s knee pads cover a good amount of her thighs and shins too; tiny pink sneakers poking out beneath them, but her feet kick excitedly and Mayo snorts.
“Bunny come too,” Emmy says seriously. That’s when I notice the pink straps hanging over her shoulders.
Ashton gestures to Emmy’s back and I move for a closer look.
She’s wearing a little backpack with four holes for Bunny’s arms and legs.
His head is poking out through the zip at the top.
It’s faintly ridiculous, but a perfect contraption.
“Where the he…ck did you find that?” I just about manage to censor myself. Emmy is growing up on a ranch full of cowboys who curse like sailors and drink like fish, but I’m for damn sure not gonna be the one to teach her the first bad word she says. I value my life more than that.
“Internet,” Ashton says nonchalantly. “Knew Bunny would be coming out with us today, didn’t wanna risk losing him. Harriet cried when I showed her.”
“Harriet cries at everything right now.”
“She cried when your mom showed up with a spa booking. They’ve gone over to Thompson City for the day.”
“Good. I told Mom to take her somewhere.”
“She needs it. She deserves it.”
“So, where are you ladies riding to?”
“Thought we’d take a little circle around the paddock,” Ashton starts. Since she’s clearly planning on walking Mayo somewhere and not riding him herself, I don’t expect they’ll go too far. “Maybe a walk up to the main house. We’ll see. What are you up to?”
“Thought I’d take my Perry girl out for a stroll, but then I saw my other two favorite girls out here.”
“Mayo ain’t a girl, demon.” Ashton cocks an eyebrow, holding my gaze. I don’t drop it, even as I answer her statement with one of my own.
“No, he ain’t.”
There’s a full beat or two of quiet, where neither one is willing to back down or break eye contact. Something electric crackles like static between us, before Emmy breaks the spell.
“You ride too, Unky Book?”
“Maybe I’ll ride,” I say. “Or maybe I’ll come join you girls on your walk. What do you think?”
A brief war battles in Ashton’s eyes before she schools her face into something neutral. I don’t give myself time to think about what it means before I adjust Emmy’s position in the saddle and her grip on the reins.
“You keep hold of those reins good and tight, okay EJ?” Emmy nods, and I tighten the buckle beneath her chin before swiping at her nose lightly.
She giggles and my heart swells. Before she was born, I had no idea how much I could love a kid.
Especially one who isn’t even mine. But she’s all the parts of my sister I love the most: she’s funny and playful and brave, and endlessly loving.
She has the Hart nose my sister and I both inherited from our dad.
She’s thoughtful and kind, curious and smart, just like Dean, and she keeps us all on our toes.
Loving Emmy makes me want to be better. A better role model for her and her future siblings, a better man for my family.
She makes me all the more determined to clean up my act and settle down sooner rather than later.
No more of those morning-after walks of shame. No more nights in beds that aren’t mine. Not unless it means something. Ashton tips her head to meet my gaze again.
“You comin’ with us?”
The summer storm in her gray eyes gives me pause. I have too many thoughts vying for attention right now, and I’m in danger of saying or doing something I shouldn’t.
“Naw. How about you go for your walk, and I take you ladies for lunch?”
That idea seems to satisfy Ashton, and she nods. “Meet us back here at twelve-thirty?”
“You got it. Have fun!”
Emmy shrieks with glee as Ashton leads Mayo away from the stable block.
He walks slowly, just as Ashton instructs him to, but from the way Emmy’s little feet kick excitedly and the way her laughter echoes through the trees, he may as well be galloping.
Ashton was right about Mayo: he’s a great horse.
Gentle and calm, but fast when he needs to be.
Strong. Obedient. And he adores Ashton. If she’s happy, Mayo is too.
I head inside, more than ready for a quick ride with Perry. I find her snorting excitedly, head hanging over the low door of her stall, waiting for me. She sniffs eagerly at my pocket, where she knows I’ve stashed a sugar cube from the box by the door.
If I want to be back here in time to take Emmy and Ashton to lunch, I’d better get moving.
I get Perry tacked up and lead her outside, before climbing into the saddle and setting off at a gentle trot.
I take her in the opposite direction to where Ashton and Emmy are.
As much as I’d love to watch them, I don’t want to be a distraction.
It’s not quite Emmy’s first time on a horse, but at two and a half years old, she’s hardly an experienced rider.
I don’t want Mayo focusing on anything but Ashton’s instruction and the tiny girl sat on his back, and I want Emmy to enjoy every minute of her riding lesson with Ashton.
As it always does, the rhythmic sound of Perry’s hooves on the dirt tracks around the ranch soothes me, and my head is much clearer by the time we return to the stables. As I guide Perry back to her stall, more giggling echoes off the beams and vaulted ceiling.
“What are you ladies giggling about?”
I reach Perry’s stall—the one beside Mayo’s—and find Emmy propped up on Ashton’s hip, feeding Mayo some apple slices.
He licks her hand as she holds it out flat, and she shrieks with excitement.
Perry notices too, and nickers mournfully, hoping for some apple of her own. Ashton turns once Emmy’s hand is empty.
“You wanna give Uncle Brooks’s horse a snack too?”
“’Es pease!” Emmy holds her hand out for more apple.
“This is Perry,” I say, opening the stall door and leading Periwinkle inside.
Ashton follows, Emmy still on her hip. Perry kicks lightly at a fresh pile of hay, left there by whoever mucked out this morning.
I’ve never met a horse who doesn’t immediately rearrange their hay nest once it’s been placed. “Hey, Perry girl. Want some apple?”
Perry takes a lazy step closer, nose wrinkling gently as she detects the scent of fruit.
“Just like you did with Mayo. Open your fingers, baby, it’s okay,” Ashton coaches Emmy, who holds out her hand hesitantly.
Perry is a little bigger than Mayo, and she’s breathing a little heavier after our run.
I hold my hand close to Emmy’s, like I’m guiding her.
Proving to her that there’s no reason to be afraid.
Perry nudges Emmy’s fingers gently before taking the offered apple slice and crunching it between her teeth.
Emmy giggles. Ashton cheers, bouncing her gently in celebration.
“Okay, I just gotta give Perry a quick brush. Then, what do you say we go get lunch?” I grab a brush from the grooming caddy hanging on the wall and begin the repetitive process of brushing through Perry’s mane and tail first. She had an intensive grooming session yesterday, so after today’s short ride, a quick brush is all she needs.
“You ready for lunch, Emmy?” Ashton asks. She follows me around Perry as I make light work of brushing her down.
“Yeah!”
“I have her car seat in Dad’s truck. So glad Harriet and your mom installed it for me, because that thing looks like some kind of torture device with all of those clips and hooks.”
I drop the brush back into the caddy and pull one last sugar cube from my pocket, holding it out in a flat palm for Perry, who takes it gratefully. I run a hand down her long nose.
“Good girl. You hang out in here with Mayo and Della, ‘kay? Come on, ladies. Let’s get some lunch.”