Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Gideon
Yesterday, I’d gone to the tractor supply store and picked up thick work gloves and a cowboy hat. I was wearing everything I’d bought to the Baileys.
This morning, the light hadn’t yet crested the horizon when I’d coasted down the Baileys’ drive.
Scarlett had said she’d pick up Autumn for work and give her a ride home.
I’d been half tempted to buy a pickup yesterday so Autumn wouldn’t have to beg rides, but she’d shut me down.
I’d been telling myself for nearly two weeks that I should buy a vehicle to make it easier on us.
What are you going to do with a pickup in Vegas?
I had no answer to that question. I could sell it. Hell, I could give it to Autumn as a parting gift. Here’re divorce papers and a new truck for your time.
The idea rested like lead in my gut. Maybe if I knew whether Dad would pull back at the last minute, I’d have a more optimistic response.
I parked by the house like Autumn had told me to do and walked down to the barn.
The crisp, cold scent in the air propelled me back to an earlier time when I was saddling the horses to move our own cattle.
When I was younger, I had been stitched to Dad’s side.
By the time I’d been a teen, I had been running the show.
Dad would pretend he was in charge, but I would have everything ready.
Unlike the Baileys’ property, ours wasn’t big enough to require overnight cattle drives.
Mom and Dad had made a long day of it, and I’d loved each moment.
Part of that joy rose up from a long-locked-up memory.
I had loved long days working with cattle as much as I had loved harvesting from sunup to sundown.
Sometimes, I’d been alone in my own head, but then afterward, I’d join in the chatter with my parents.
What went well? What could we do better?
What needed fixing? I’d feel like a grown-up, and when I’d talk with my grandfather afterward, he’d beam and nod.
Farming’s in your blood. The outdoors is in your blood. Trust your gut.
Later, before I graduated high school, he’d said similar things.
This place is yours. You know your dad won’t do what needs to be done.
He’s going to run Percival into the ground.
My father scraped his pennies together and bought that land after everything had been taken from him and his family.
Don’t let your dad take this from you. Start by scraping your pennies together.
My grandfather’s voice was echoing louder than it had in years. Those memories were why I was here today. If Dad heard about what I was doing today, he’d know I wasn’t some city asshole who wanted to claim a tax deduction and walk over the locals. I was a local, goddammit.
Tate and Teller were loading horses into the silver horse trailer attached to Tate’s pickup. Tenor was tossing coolers into the back seat. Pails and Rubbermaid bins were piled by the front of the horse trailer.
The wind buffeted my face. A few flurries fell from the sky.
Myles appeared next to me. “I guess it could be colder.”
I almost didn’t recognize him with the tan cowboy hat on, and I hadn’t even noticed him following me.
I looked back. Wynter was dressed in jeans and boots, a beat-up tan jacket zipped to her chin.
Her own black cowboy hat was pulled down low and her blond braid was tucked into the collar of her coat.
“Got the baby here too?” I asked.
Myles grinned, but his indulgent gaze was on his wife. “No, Elsa’s going to be with Mae all day. You should see how giddy Mae is about that.” His gaze lifted to two men pulling up in a pickup with another trailer. “You met my brothers, Lane and Cruz, right?”
They had been at the party Dad had thrown. “Briefly.”
“Since Wynter’s going to boss us around,” Cruz said to me, “you might want to ride with the other guys. Four and four.”
I nodded and jumped in to help load the gear.
Tenor worked beside me, directing where everything got stashed and stored.
“You sure it’s only a day trip?” I asked.
A horse from the trailer whinnied and one of the geldings getting loaded up in the Fosters’ trailer answered. A chorus of whinnies went up.
Tenor grinned and pushed his thick-framed glasses up. “When Tate took over, he got us signed up for a pasture management program.”
Teller walked by and grunted. “Talk about a fuckton of fencing.”
Tenor nodded. “We made smaller pastures and we move them more often. This way, we’re not as reliant on hay during the winter and the pastures have more time to rest.”
“Which means more vegetation.” I might’ve read up on a few ranching-related topics while I was in Vegas.
“Yup. Plus, Tate couldn’t be moving cattle for days at a time anymore with Chance, and now that he has three little ones, he certainly isn’t going to leave Scarlett days at a time.
” His grin widened. “And we’re all getting older.
Sleeping on the ground in the cold and heat is a little harder than it used to be. ”
Made sense. Tenor must be in his late thirties. Except for Myles’s brothers, we were all either pushing forty or well past that birthday.
“Disappointed?” Tenor adjusted the brim of his cowboy hat. “Or are you dying to get back to your plush bed in the city?”
Autumn wasn’t in my plush bed in the city.
Teller walked by in the opposite direction. “Just so you know, James, we’re taking bets on how long you’ll last in the saddle.”
Tenor snickered and continued loading supplies. Thumps and bumps of metal from the horses moving in the trailer filled the air. Just because the last time I’d ridden a horse was probably before Lane or Cruz had been born didn’t mean I couldn’t handle the entire day in the saddle. And I’d prove it.
Autumn
When I got home after work and after prepping for the fourth-grade music performance, the house was dark. Gideon’s laptop sat closed on the kitchen table. The satisfaction I got from that was supreme. In Vegas, I bet no one in that casino would believe he could take a break from work that long.
My smugness took a dip when I realized he always had his mind in the game. He’d gone to help move cattle, but he probably had an ulterior motive.
I rubbed my suddenly tight gut. I hadn’t eaten. Tomorrow night, Scarlett planned to order pizza. I was rummaging in the kitchen when the garage door opened and closed. A minute later, Gideon stepped through the door with two plates in his hands.
“Hey,” he said in a low timbre that chased the chill away and warmed me from the inside out.
“Hey.”
A cold draft wafted in with him, and I caught the scents of horse sweat, crisp fall air, and dirt.
His hair was smashed down from his cowboy hat, and he was dusty from head to toe, but it was his gaze that gave me pause.
A slight twinkle shone from their depths and it was the most relaxed I’d seen him . . . ever.
Even after sex, he was never boneless like me.
He had a constant tension radiating through him to match the way his mind was constantly working.
These days I assumed the land sale was occupying his thoughts, but before me, before this, his regular job probably took up the majority of his brainpower.
Today, maybe it was the cowboy boots that gave him an easy, rolling gait, but the constant tension across his shoulders was gone.
He shoved his laptop aside—also satisfying—and set the plates down. “Mae already had your plate prepared when we returned.”
But he’d come bearing two plates. “Haven’t you eaten?”
He shook his head. “I knew you and Scarlett wouldn’t be working too long, and I didn’t want you to wait.” He went to a drawer by the sink to dig out two forks.
He’d been riding all day. Whenever I’d helped move cattle or had been around when my family was done for the day, they piled around the table and barely remembered how to eat like civilized beings. “You didn’t have to.”
His direct gaze caught me. “I know. Sit.”
I did as he said. Mama had made a ground-beef-and-pasta dish that was cheesy and creamy. A perfect meal for people who’d been outside all day.
After the worst of our hunger was sated, I peeked at the way the muscles in his jaws bunched when he chewed. My fingers itched to ruffle through his flattened hair. The look was different on him. It softened the edges of his sharp, professional persona and the jaw carved from stone.
“How’d it go?” I asked.
He pushed some pasta together, not seeming to mind all his food mixed. Was it just when he was extra alert, like meeting Mama?
Mama had piled both of our plates high. I would have enough for lunch tomorrow, but Gideon was almost done. “Good.” He took another bite.
I kept eating.
His fork clinked on the table. “Actually, it was really fucking fun, and I’m a little pissed about it.”
“Oh?” I turned in my seat to face him.
He shoved a hand into his hair. Clumps stuck up between his fingers and stayed mostly in place when he removed his hand.
“There were a couple of cows in the brush and I chased them out. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve done that?
Since I’ve done any of this?” His jaw clenched.
“I loved every part of it. Those days when Dad and I used to move cattle? I don’t remember those fondly.
But today . . . I remembered when Mom used to be with us. ”
“And the fun came back?” I asked quietly.
He stared at his mostly empty plate for a minute. “Yeah.”
When he returned to eating, I swiveled back to my food. “I am glad you found the joy again.”
He grunted, likely thinking about how it might be the first time since he’d left town but the last time for the rest of his life.
I put the wrap on top of my plate and put it in the fridge. “Don’t worry about tomorrow night. Summer’s bringing Chance, Brinley, and Darin to Mama’s, so we don’t have to rush. Scarlett wants to order pizza.”
“Got it.” He rose, but didn’t move. “Is Mark going to be there?”