Chapter 15 Hattie
HATTIE
“Name?” Gage’s voice comes through the speaker, low and demanding.
I purse my lips and lean out of my truck window toward the keypad with a little camera in the corner. “I know you can see me.”
“Why don’t you just sneak in like last time?”
“Because your wife is currently at work, that’s why. And I have a delivery, so can you just let me in, please? I’m trying to make this quick.”
“Delivery for who?” Gage demands.
“Seriously? Shithead,” I mumble, annoyed.
“Heard that.”
Back when I spent the summer here, I learned quickly that Gage pays extremely close attention to everything and everyone around him.
I’ve seen him stop a fight before it even started, bring a cow in to be checked based on nothing more than a hunch that she might get sick soon, and cut hay a little early because he suspected a storm might roll in the next week, even though the weather report said otherwise. Constantly, the most aware.
Something tells me he isn’t being overly cautious as usual by blocking my entrance right now, though. He’s just being a dick.
“I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to be, okay? Just open the damn—” I’m cut off by a loud buzz. The gates, each with a big red bow hanging in the center, swing inward. I put my sunglasses back on before smiling over at the camera. “Thank you.”
I slowly drive up the lane flanked by a line of trees and a weather-beaten wood fence.
It hardly seems possible how far the pastures stretch on either side.
The worst part about ranching in West Texas might be that the land is so dry and desolate that it requires double or triple the amount of acreage for the cattle’s survival than it would elsewhere.
That’s the thing I’ve always loved about it, though.
Vast, open prairie for miles. Room to run and breathe. Home.
This place had only recently existed in a bubble of memories until I arrived and popped it. Rather than picturing it in my mind like I typically do, the grand but quiet ranch is real and vivid, unfolding right in front of me. I try not to choke on the painful nostalgia.
I can’t help but slow to a creep as the bunkhouse comes into view at the end of the lane.
It sits back apart from the corrals and barns, and is nothing fancy from the outside, that’s for sure.
Some of the wood siding is faded. Even the posts under the porch are scarred over from time, boots scuffing, and shoulders leaning.
But it’s the heart of this ranch, and it still stands strong .
. . just as stubborn as the group of guys that have called it home.
From what I’ve heard, Gage moved out to a big house somewhere else on the property when he and Blythe, Warren’s sister, got together. I would have paid to see that feisty woman make a love-sick fool out of him.
Not long after, Warren met Savannah, and they’ve got a new place of their own now, too. It makes sense to me that Warren fell in love with a girl like Savvy—I don’t know that I’ve ever met anyone with a heart as soft and purely kind as hers.
Tripp basically lives at Mesa’s house, so I guess rather than the group of roommates they once were, just one headstrong cowboy hangs his hat under that roof now.
I wonder how long it took the guys to find a ladder and hang the Christmas lights that are still up. After a lot of cussing and a lot more untangling, I’d guess about eight hours.
Something about the domestic visual angers me. Blurry, wet eyes and a strange mix of jealousy and hurt were to be expected. This is my first real return to a place that used to mean a lot to me. I knew it would hit me hard. The rush of emotion feels silly and somehow valid at the same time.
Dad wondered why helping him deliver a horse while he was gone would be different this time. This is why.
I sniff and turn my attention back forward, pulling up to the stables across the way. Maybe exposure therapy is a good spin on my perspective. That sort of thing used to work like a charm for me. This could actually help me leave it all behind.
The text from Heston that I’ve been staring at since Christmas is almost enough to make me think maybe I shouldn’t be trying to put it all behind me in the first place, though.
I push the driver’s side door closed after hopping out, and keep my head down while walking toward the back of the trailer. Just as I reach for the gate handle, a bark pulls my attention to the side.
Even while running at full speed, Lucky effortlessly dips beneath the fence and barrels toward me. I smile, bending to catch her in my arms. Her momentum sends me falling backward, and I laugh as she attacks my face with kisses.
“Hey, Lucky charm,” I say, gasping for air through a fit of laughter. “You got so big. Go easy on me.”
When she eventually calms down, I brace my hands behind me to sit up. I lift an arm to hug around her neck as she wiggles next to me. I missed this dusty furball so much.
No one else seems to be around. Everything’s quiet apart from the horse in my trailer, who whinnies restlessly.
It doesn’t take long to hook a lead to her halter and set her up in the only empty stall in the stables.
Once she’s shaking her mane to get a feel for the space and plunging her muzzle into a flake of hay, I step to the center of the alleyway and slowly spin in a circle.
The name plates I made still hang above each stall.
Lawsuit
Shoog
Regal
Bob From Accounting
Even Breezy, Heston’s old competition horse, has her own nameplate above a picture of her on the wall. Everything smells and looks the same, and it makes my throat burn.
Okay, fuck exposure therapy. Why am I hanging around like this? It’s unnecessary torture.
Bob must be out in a pasture or with Heston somewhere, which makes me sad. I would have loved to give that big guy an overdue kiss. The horse, I mean.
Distant voices filter in through the open barn doors, stealing my attention. Curious, I brace a hand on the frame and peer out toward the working outdoor arena. There’s a younger guy looking up and nodding intently as Heston explains something.
My eyes widen when I see the jumping dummy right behind them. All I’ve done since getting here is hold back tears. But now, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. My mouth drops open in shock and curves up into a smile at the same time.
Heston holds his arms out in front of him as he talks, demonstrating.
His straw cowboy hat is pushed back on his forehead, just a tad, which is a bit out of the norm.
He only wears it that way when he’s relaxed.
It’s tough to hear what he’s saying from this far away, but I lean forward, straining to listen.
Heston shakes his head. “You have a lot of shit habits to rework.”
The younger guy folds his hands on the top of his hat with a sigh.
“Stop worrying about getting down into the slide so quick,” Heston continues. “Your knees are too high, so you end up jabbing the ground. You want to tear your knee up?” He bends and slaps his thigh. “Drive the knee straight down instead. Body forward. Shoulders level.”
“Knee down, body forward, shoulders level,” the boy repeats.
Heston gives a curt nod, then rubs his jaw in thought.
“And another thing—” I cover my mouth to stifle a laugh.
He’s talking like he’ll never run out of words to say, and my heart wants to burst right out of my chest. He moves toward the jumping dummy, then leans his right hip against the padded body.
His right arm hooks up while his left hand opens and pushes down to show a proper wrap-up.
“It may not make sense until you feel it in a real practice run, but you should lift until the catch is good. Like this.”
I’m stunned by the scene in front of me, and hadn’t noticed Lucky sitting at my feet until she barks happily. Both Heston and the younger guy look over, too quickly for me to duck back into the barn and out of sight.
I plaster on a guilty smile and wave just above my waist. Heston pushes off the jumping dummy to stand.
Without looking away from me, he brushes dust from the front of his shirt and pulls his hat down.
It’s not extremely warm out today, but it’s surprisingly sunny, and he’s got his aviators on.
One extra button on his shirt is undone.
I bite the inside of my cheek and try to force my eyes up and away from the small amount of exposed chest hair.
The silence is too awkward for me to withstand much longer, so I spin on my heel to rush away.
“Hey, wait!” The younger guy calls out. “Did Rafe send you?”