Chapter 3 Shared Burdens #2
Sawyer's expression softened.
"You didn't?"
Tucker shook his head.
"No."
The admission surprised him.
Not because it wasn't true.
Because he hadn't realized how true it had become.
Somewhere between broken combines, long afternoons beneath the Texas sun, and quiet dinners beside the machine shed, trust had stopped being something he consciously chose.
It had simply become part of how he looked at Sawyer Reyes.
And for the first time in a very long while, Tucker found that kind of trust came as naturally as breathing.
The Road Home
By the time the last paperwork was signed and the final trailer pulled away from the county fairgrounds, the afternoon had begun surrendering to evening.
The rush and excitement that had filled the auction grounds all day slowly dissolved into familiar routines.
Ranchers exchanged handshakes before heading toward their trucks.
Buyers discussed prices over cups of coffee.
Auction workers swept loose hay from the loading docks while the distant sound of cattle gradually faded into the open Texas countryside.
Sawyer closed the tailgate of his service truck after securing his toolbox.
It had been one of the busiest days he'd experienced since arriving in Red Hollow.
Not because of the repairs.
Because of the people.
Everywhere he turned, someone had stopped to thank him.
A rancher whose trailer he'd repaired.
The transport driver whose sale had been saved.
Even the county commissioner had made a point of shaking his hand before leaving.
Praise had always made Sawyer uncomfortable.
In the Army, you fixed the vehicle because someone's life depended on it.
Nobody applauded.
Nobody called you a hero.
You simply did your job.
He preferred it that way.
"Told you they'd remember your name."
Sawyer looked over as Jax approached, carrying a folded jacket over one shoulder.
"I was hoping they'd forget it."
Jax laughed.
"Not around here."
"I didn't do anything special."
"You kept half the county from losing money."
Sawyer shrugged.
"I fixed a truck."
"You'll learn."
"Learn what?"
"In small towns..."
Jax smiled knowingly.
"...people remember who showed up when things went wrong."
Before Sawyer could answer, Tucker walked over carrying the final auction documents.
"The cattle are loaded."
Jax nodded.
"I'll take the livestock trailers back."
He glanced between the two men.
"You heading to the ranch?"
Sawyer nodded.
"I've got the service truck."
"Tucker?"
"I'll ride with Sawyer."
Jax didn't miss a beat.
"Works for me."
The younger ranch owner climbed into his pickup and drove away before either man could think much about the arrangement.
Sawyer looked toward Tucker.
"You sure?"
"My truck's staying overnight."
"Why?"
"Needs new tires."
Sawyer smirked.
"Mechanic let that happen?"
"It wasn't my mechanic."
Sawyer laughed as he unlocked the passenger door.
"Get in."
The old diesel pickup rumbled onto the highway a few minutes later.
For the first several miles, neither of them spoke.
There wasn't an awkward silence between them.
It simply wasn't necessary.
The truck's engine settled into a steady rhythm while golden fields stretched endlessly on both sides of the road. Windmills turned lazily in the distance, and the setting sun painted the sky with deep shades of orange and crimson.
Sawyer rolled the window down halfway.
Warm evening air carried the scent of dry grass and freshly harvested wheat inside the cab.
"It never gets old."
Tucker looked out across the landscape.
"What doesn't?"
"This."
"The fields?"
"The space."
Sawyer smiled faintly.
"You can actually breathe out here."
Tucker nodded.
"I've never really thought about it."
"You've lived here your whole life."
"Almost."
"You get used to things."
"I suppose."
Sawyer rested one arm against the open window.
"When I first got here, I thought Texas would feel too flat."
"And now?"
"I kind of like it."
"You'll fit in."
Sawyer chuckled.
"That's optimistic."
"I've seen tougher people accepted."
"Tougher?"
"You smile too much."
Sawyer laughed.
"So that's a problem?"
"For some ranchers."
"I'll try to look miserable tomorrow."
"It won't suit you."
The words came so naturally that Tucker didn't seem to realize what he'd said until a second later.
Sawyer pretended not to notice the slight embarrassment that crossed his face.
Instead, he focused on the road ahead.
The silence returned.
Comfortable.
Easy.
After another few miles, Tucker spoke again.
"You handled yourself well today."
"At the auction?"
"Mhm."
"I've dealt with pressure before."
"I figured."
"You can usually tell when someone's been in situations where panic isn't an option."
Tucker glanced toward him.
"The Army."
Sawyer nodded.
"The Army."
Another quiet moment passed.
"I almost asked you something earlier."
Sawyer kept his eyes on the road.
"What stopped you?"
"I wasn't sure it was my business."
"You can ask."
Tucker hesitated.
"How many places have you lived?"
Sawyer smiled to himself.
"Honestly?"
"Mhm."
"I've lost count."
Tucker looked surprised.
"That many?"
"Arizona."
Sawyer began counting on one hand.
"Colorado."
"Virginia."
"North Carolina."
"Kentucky."
"Oklahoma."
"New Mexico."
"Now Texas."
He shrugged.
"Those are just the places I unpacked boxes."
Tucker remained quiet for a long moment.
"That's a lot."
"It is."
"You never wanted to stay?"