7. Sorrel
SORREL
Imake it back to the ranch just before sunset. As I crest the mountain, the valley opens up below me, and there it is—our gate—standing tall and proud. The wooden beam across the top, that's stood the test of time—Saxxon Ranch. Bold and familiar, just as it has been since I was a kid.
I slow the truck and take it all in. The valley is beautiful this time of year, little pink wildflowers scattered like confetti across the grass, which is so green it almost doesn’t look real.
The setting sun lights the sky on fire, painting everything in shades of orange and red that make the land glow. God, I love it here.
As I pull into the gate, the ranch dogs come tearing down the drive to greet me.
“Hey, boys, we’re home,” I call out through the open window.
Sally Jo, my dad’s feisty little blue heeler, barks like she’s been waiting for this all day.
The two Great Pyrenees, Ranger and Rooster, let out low, rolling howls as they prance over, tails wagging.
Dash, who’s been whining from the front seat for the last ten miles, loses his mind with excitement.
I open the door, and he bolts out, ears flopping, racing to catch up with the others as they take off toward the main house.
I smile, watching them disappear into the distance, my heart already lighter. It’s good to be home.
I drive up the road, waving at a few ranch hands working colts in the arena.
Today is Sunday, so most of the crew has the day off if they want, but a handful usually stay back to keep things running.
The young ones, though, always head into town to the local honkytonk to throw back a few beers and tie one on.
I pull my truck and trailer in front of the barn so I can unload the horses.
Our barn is beautiful and rustic. We fixed the roof this spring and it was painted red.
The rest of the barn is natural wood; it’s my favorite building on the ranch.
A fixture that has charm, character, and a story to tell.
But now when I look at the barn, I don’t get that same warm feeling that I used to.
All I see is him and the night I wish never happened.
Most of the time I can’t bring myself to go in.
I’ve been asking the ranch hands to put my horses up or take them out for me.
They probably think I’m a spoiled, lazy brat.
But they can think what they want. I’m just worried Sutton is going to say something about it soon.
The barn itself holds twenty stalls and has a large tack room. Next to the tack room is Dad’s office, always cluttered, papers everywhere. I’d tried to organize it a few times in the past, but every time he caught me, he’d just growl and say that he works better in chaos. So, I let it go.
“Hey, Dad! You in there?” I call into the open barn.
“Yeah, Sorrel! That you?” His voice carries from the breezeway.
“It’s me, your favorite daughter!” I singsong.
I hear his raspy laugh in response.
I unload Duke from the trailer and tie him to the hitching post out front. Peeking my head into the barn, I see Dad is tending to his old horse, Cowboy, cleaning out his feet in the crossties. He drops his foot and stands while rubbing his lower back.
“How was the rodeo, sweet pea?”
“It was good! I finally won a check,” I yell out to him, trying to sound proud.
“All right, good job, baby! I’ve got some news too. Come on in here, would ya?”
I slowly make my way into the barn, positioning myself so my back is to the haystack.
“Someone booked the guest ranch house. We’re gonna be real busy for the next few weeks. I was hoping you could help out while they’re here.”
“Yeah, of course. Any idea who it is? What they’re expecting?”
“Not sure. You can reach out if you want—info’s in my office—you know I’m bad at this stuff. They want to move some cattle and pretend to be real cowboys. You know, that kind of thing.” He chuckles.
Building and renting out the guesthouse had been my idea to help bring in some extra cash flow.
Sutton hated it, said we weren’t a dude ranch, but it made a difference financially, so it was worth it.
We’ve had some interesting guests. All kinds of people from doctors to actors and even regular old horse people who know how to ride but want to experience what a working ranch is like.
“All right, sounds good. I’ll make sure the guesthouse is ready for them first thing in the morning,” I say.
“Lucy already got to it, but I appreciate ya, darlin’,” he says with a smile, then pulls me in for a hug and kisses my forehead.
Lucy is our housekeeper. She’s been a blessing I didn't know we needed until we had her. With three cabins and two bunkhouses, it’s a lot to keep up with, especially when you live with cowboys. Their definition of clean is an entirely different one than mine.
After walking into Dad’s office, I rummage around through piles of papers scattered across his desk. I find one that has tomorrow's date written on it and reads: guest ranch rented for tomorrow morning.
Well, that’s real descriptive… not. I swear his office is about as scrambled as my brain. So we have no information for the guests tomorrow. Great. This is exactly why I don’t like being away from the ranch for too long.
A squeal from a little voice outside the barn pulls me from my rambling thoughts. “Auntie Sorieeee!”
It’s Trotter. He’s standing with Ryder by my truck looking all around for me.
I beam, seeing how excited he is that I’m home.
“Trot trot!” I call for him.
He comes running and jumps into my open arms.
“I missed you, Auntie Sorie,” he says.
He nuzzles his head into the crook of my neck and it tickles.
I laugh. I love how cuddly he’s become at this age.
He’s almost three now and growing like a bean sprout.
I pull him away from me so I can get a good look at him.
His bright blue eyes and dimples melt my heart.
He looks a lot like his dad with olive-colored skin and similar features, but he got his dirty blonde hair and blue eyes from Sutton.
“I missed you too Trotty. Did you take care of all the animals while I was gone?”
He looks at Ryder with confusion on his face.
“We sure did. Remember Trotter, we doctored the calves yesterday,” Ryder says.
“Yeah!” he exclaims, clapping his hands.
I set him down on the ground and he takes off in a sprint toward Duke.
I untie him and hand Trotter the lead rope.
It’s absolutely adorable how Duke just follows him like a puppy dog.
He’s the best horse. I’ve had him since he was a colt.
He looks just like his mama, a stocky bay roan with a black mane and tail.
Duke’s thirteen now, but you would never know it.
He’s full of spunk and still my best barrel horse.
“You coming to dinner tonight?” Ryder asks.
I’ve missed Jo’s cooking so much, and I’m craving a home-cooked meal after being on the road.
Jo cooks three meals a day during the week.
On Sundays, she only makes dinner, and everyone eats in the main house.
Sunday dinner is an all-out affair and usually lasts several hours.
I have so much to do before the guests get here. If I go, I’ll never get it done.
“Actually, I’m gonna go check on the guesthouse before tomorrow morning and unpack, so I’ll probably just eat at my place tonight.”
“Sounds good. See ya in the mornin’ then,” Ryder says, tipping his head.
“See ya!” I say.
He walks away to get Trotter, who’s wandered into Dad’s office and has started making even more of a mess.
I hurry to finish unloading everything from the weekend. The worst part about being on the road is settling back into one place.
I leave Duke and Zip tied to the hitching post, knowing dad will put them up for me.
Lastly I unhitch my trailer and then drive up to my cabin.
Dad lives in the main house, and my cabin is just next door to his.
It’s a modest two-bedroom, two-bath cabin, perfect for just me.
Sutton, Ryder, and Trotter live in the house farthest from Dad’s.
It has three bedrooms and two baths but desperately needs to be updated.
They need more space now since their family has grown, and renovations will be starting soon.
Near the arena and barn stand the guest ranch house, a five-bedroom, three-bath cabin, the newest on the ranch.
We built it specifically for renting out, and it has already paid for itself.
Behind the barn are the bunkhouses where the ranch hands live.
There’s two bunkhouses and we have about five cowboys currently living between the two of them.
They all range in age and some are part-time and a few full-timers that have been working here since I was a kid.
Honestly, we probably have too many hands working for us.
Dad has a big heart and isn’t willing to let anyone go.
But now that we have extra income from the guest house, our ranch has been profitable year after year.
“Ah, home at last,” I sigh as I step inside my cabin.
Dash comes running in behind me, hopping right into his plush bed by the fireplace.
My place isn’t big by any stretch, but it’s cozy, and perfect for me and my little dog.
I’m on the road so much in the summer. I don’t need a big ol’ house.
Maybe it’d be different if I had someone to share it with, but at this rate, I’m not holding my breath.
Dad must have started a fire for me when he knew I was close to home.
That man gets sweeter and sweeter in his old age.
I stoke the fire until the flames crackle and dance, then plop down on my plush light brown couch, curling up into a faux fur throw.
Exhaustion hits me like a ton of bricks after the unsettling weekend.
I’m still questioning whether not giving Denton my phone number was the right decision. Am I crazy to think we had a genuine connection…or was it all for show?