25. ashton
twenty-five
ashton
. . .
Secret Love - Hunter Hayes
The following morning, instead of grabbing a granola bar from my cupboard, I treat myself by heading to the main house for breakfast with Mom.
As usual, she and Harriet have cooked up a storm, and the last few morning ranch hands are leaving when I arrive, chomping on the last of their toast as they file out of the kitchen toward the barns.
Even though it’s nearly seven already, the sun is just starting to rise over the outbuilding roofs.
I pluck my hat from my head as I near the kitchen, cradling it in both hands. It’s the same gray one I wore a few weeks ago when Emmy and I had lunch with Brooks. I hang it on one of the hooks on the wall.
“Morning, honey. Coffee?” Mom glances up from a stack of paperwork long enough to smile at me.
Summer’s end is always one of the busiest times for the ranch—both in terms of the actual ranch work, and in terms of the business aspects.
Mom brushes toast crumbs off her papers as she reaches for her own coffee cup.
“God, yes. Please.”
“Good morning,” Harriet sings. She fusses at the counter for a minute before she offers me a steaming cup. “Haven’t seen you much lately. How are you feeling now?”
“I’m okay. You know those migraines only normally last a day. Two, tops. Thanks for the soup, by the way. I swear that stuff could cure me even if I were dead.”
“Of course!” Harriet hops up onto a bar stool, cradling her baby bump gently. “When Brooks called, I thought something terrible had happened. He was so panicked—bribed me with all sorts to have me make the soup.”
“He did?”
“Sure he did. Offered to take Emmy once a week for the next year. Pay for her college. Buy six months of diapers for this little guy. The works.”
Can’t. Shouldn’t. Want, want, want.
“You said yes, right?”
Harriet guffaws. “That’s my girl. Of course I did—we settled on two months of weekly babysitting duty and a week’s worth of diapers. He’s takin’ Em to Farrow this morning to go grocery shopping. She’s over the moon. I would’ve done it for free, though. You know I would.”
Harriet’s words settle over me as I take a mouthful of coffee. It’s hot and milky, with a shot of my favorite hazelnut syrup to add a little sweetness. In other words, it’s absolutely perfect, and I savor the heat that rolls through my chest as I swallow, warming me from the inside.
“Ev said Brooks ain’t never seen me sick like that before. I know you have, you were here a lot when I was younger. But Brooks was always out on the ranch, or he’d be in school when I stayed home in bed.”
“He cares a lot about you, Ash,” Harriet says quietly. The look in her eye as her gaze meets mine says there might be something unspoken in her words, that she might know more than she’s saying out loud, but I can’t deal with that right now. “We all do. You’re our family.”
I don’t know what to say that won’t give me away.
Harriet knows me far too well and she’ll see right through me if I try to bluster my way through a lie.
Even something truthful, like I care about him too, carries too much weight.
She’d immediately sense everything I’m not saying.
Because the truth is, I do care about him.
I care about him a lot, and it’s starting to feel like I care about him far more than a friend really ought to.
It’s starting to feel like I might have cared that much for a long time.
So instead of outing myself, I change the subject.
“Whatcha make for breakfast?”
Harriet doesn’t seem at all fazed by the sudden change. She hops off the stool and over to the oven, opening it and fanning away the steam with her hand. With the very tips of her bare fingers, she pulls lightly at four trays in turn, inspecting their contents.
“I got bacon, sausage… I’m all out of biscuits, but I can whip up some eggs, if you want? Scrambled?”
“Cheesy with sriracha?”
“Of course!” Harriet scoffs like she’d ever make my eggs any other way than with a heap of cheese and a generous helping of hot sauce. She tips her head toward the table where Mom is engrossed in her work. “Go rescue your mom from that pile of papers, I’ll bring it over.”
As I cross the kitchen, I hear the sound of cracking eggshells followed by sizzling, and the smell of eggs fills the air. My stomach gurgles and my mouth waters, suddenly three times as hungry as I thought I was. I slide onto the long bench seat opposite my mom.
“Hi, honey,” she says. She peers over the rims of her glasses, taking in my hat on the wall. “I do love that hat on you. It makes me happy you’ve been wearing it again. What do you have planned today?”
“Thought I might go say hi to the horses. Then Jody asked me to go over. He wants help working a new horse, not even greenbroke apparently.” I’m not on either ranch’s permanent payroll right now, so I’m free to come and go as I please.
Mom pays me for the days I do work here—like when I work out the horses, and when I helped Brooks with the vehicle maintenance last week—but it’s not regular income for me right now.
Mostly, I just like to be here. It’s my home.
“Angie did mention they got a couple new geldings. A stallion, too. Mick wants to break ‘em and sell ‘em.”
“Mick always wants to break and sell. That’s his business. He buys horses, breaks ‘em, sells ‘em to farms or anyone who wants to buy a good horse.”
“Mick don’t always get what he wants, though,” Mom says with a cunning smile.
Clearly she’s been in cahoots with Ms. Angie—Jody’s mom—who falls in love with just about every horse that passes through their gate.
That’s how their agricultural ranch turned into The Fishers’ Farm and Rescue Ranch, with so many horses through their doors.
“No, he don’t,” I agree. “I don’t think he’s too mad at it.”
“You take some files over for me when you go, Ashey?”
“Sure. I told Jody about eleven, so I’ll be in the stables until then.”
“Or out on a trail somewhere,” Harriet suggests. She leans in beside me to deposit a plate of steaming food. “You know the call of the land is impossible to resist, Ash. You’re a ranch girl. Born to ride wild.”
I smile. Harriet isn’t wrong. Chances are, I’ll take Mayo out for a good long ride.
For all that she and I are similar, there are so many ways in which we couldn’t be more different.
She can ride, but she prefers not to. She’s never been truly comfortable on a horse.
By contrast, I’ve never been happier than when I’m on horseback.
Harriet was much older, already in her teens when the boys and I would run around the ranch as kids, but she’d usually be found indoors helping her mom or mine cook for everyone, or sewing, or reading a book.
As soon as she got her GED, she became the ranch’s housekeeper.
She keeps the main house running when Mom is too busy managing the ranch, and she feeds the ranch hands most days.
Sometimes I wonder if she don’t know more about this place than the Tanners, and our family owns it.
What Harriet Forbes Hart don’t know about this ranch ain’t worth knowing, and that’s the truth.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” I call out as I leap out of Dad’s truck and slam the door behind me.
Ever since I borrowed it to drive to Houston with Talia and Ruth, I’ve borrowed it as much as I can when I need a vehicle.
It’s so much more comfortable than Mom’s ancient Civic.
“Lost track of time. Should’ve just ridden over and let Mayo hang out here for the day. ”
“Why didn’t you?” Jody foregoes a traditional greeting, instead handing me a condensation-soaked bottle of water and some kind of baked muffin. It smells good. “Ain’t a patch on yours, but don’t tell my mom.”
“Hey, if Ms. Angie is bakin’ her banana muffins, I ain’t gonna say no.
” I bring it to my mouth and tear into the muffin top with my teeth.
It’s still warm; perfectly baked with with a hint of caramelized sugar crisped on top.
An involuntary moan escapes me and Jody throws his head back to laugh.
I take a moment to chew and swallow, savoring the sweetness on my tongue, before I continue, “I rode out to Skillett Creek this morning. Mom said something about marking out some riding trails out that way. Oh. I got some papers for your mom too.”
“Spill it, Pocket Rocket.”
“Spill what?”
“You got thoughts about riding trails. I know you, Ash. You can’t keep a secret for shit.”
For half a second, panic takes hold. I feel it prickle at my skin, icy fingers reaching down my spine leaving me shivering in spite of the late summer heat.
I’ve never been a secret-keeper. I’m a wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve—or my face—kind of girl.
But right now, I’m fostering the biggest secret of my life.
And then I replay Jody’s question. He’s asking about the riding trails. That’s a safe conversation topic.
“It could be good,” I start, and then hesitate. I open the truck door again. Reach in to grab the folder Mom gave me for Ms. Angie. Slam it behind me as I fall into step with Jody. “Mom wants to offer riding retreats. Only makes sense we have some trails out there.”
“But.”
“It ain’t close to any of the stable blocks.
Our horses are good for walkin’, but it’s gonna take manpower to get a bunch of ‘em out there for it. And it’ll tire ‘em out real fast if they’re workin’ and doin’ trail rides and makin’ that walk to and fro every day.
We’re gonna need a lot more horses and a brand-new stable block if we don’t wanna disrupt the ranch, ‘cause it ain’t like we can have strangers ridin’ Perry and Garlic and Gumbo, is it? ”