Chapter 5 Hestia
HESTIA
The progress on Lottie’s new cabin by the lake was startling.
Despite a batch of guests arriving the day after the rodeo, the ranch now at capacity and Lottie in full-on manager mode, Cole and a couple of hired hands had maintained a determined pace.
Even in the almost three weeks I’d been here, it’d gone from a bare frame to a full, watertight cabin, roof on and windows in.
Lottie was desperate for them to have a space together, the intensity of their feelings shining through, growing brighter daily.
I felt more than a twinge of sadness at the thought of leaving them and the ranch, with my flight now coming up in just four days.
The only consolation was knowing Lottie was the happiest I’d ever seen her, and that she was surrounded by great people.
Averting my eyes from Cole’s topless form sitting astride the roof in just jeans, boots and his hat, I felt thankful Jesse was nowhere in sight. The temptation of him in the same position would’ve been enough to make me either scale that house like Spider-Man, or wade into the lake – clothes on.
I had no memory of the other night, only a vague sense of unease.
I’d put it down to seeing Bailey doing her damnedest to cope with the guilt she felt about Dunkin’s accident, the sense of loss and disappointment almost palpable.
I didn’t know how else to help her, given my previous suggested distraction had backfired and landed me with a two-day headache.
Come to think of it, I didn’t have many suggestions that didn’t involve alcohol and hangovers, a fact some overpaid, smug therapist had deigned to point out to me once.
I’d left uni not long after. The thought of a career spent pointing out the bleeding fucking obvious for obscene fees somehow grated against my moral code.
The irony was, I had since become a de facto therapist for many of my clients, inking their problems, solutions and scars right into their skin.
Returning to my latest sketch, legs tucked up on the outdoor sofa in the cookout area overlooking the lake, I picked up my phone as the screen lit up.
Your drawing is FIRE!
I smiled, opening it and navigating into Messages. I’d taken the plunge and called Dee yesterday, getting her mobile number and sharing a couple of the cow skull sketches I’d made.
Is there any way you’d sell it to me? It would look SO good on a tee.
I paused, looking up as I heard footsteps. Bailey.
Yeah, it’s yours if you want it. But no payment. It’s a present for not forcing me into blue denim in your store.
‘Hey, cowpoke,’ Bailey said, trying a small smile as she approached.
‘Hey,’ I replied, gathering myself up and standing. ‘You okay? How’s Dunkin doing?’
She nodded, and as her smile broadened, I felt a surge of relief. Bailey cared so much for Dunkin, and it’d hit me harder than I’d thought possible to see them both hurt. I liked her a lot – her honesty, the sincerity in her ambition, the obvious love she had for the animals and people here.
‘She’s healing up real well, no lasting damage according to the vet, thank the good lord. But it’s the championships. They’ve given me a wildcard entry, as I didn’t qualify . . . but it means I need another horse. Like, now.’
‘That’s amazing about the championships – but is that possible? Like – where do you even buy horses?’ I asked as we began walking together.
She laughed, the sound echoing as we skirted the lake shore, a couple of birds startled out of the trees that ran the length of one edge.
‘Plenty of places, but there’s a horse sale on tomorrow morning, a couple hours out of town. Would you want to come along? I know horses aren’t your thing, but—’
‘I’m there,’ I said, hooking my arm through hers. ‘Now, while it’s true I know sweet fuck all about horses, I do know people. You concentrate on finding a good horse, and I’ll let you know if the owner’s a dick and trying to scam you.’
She huffed a laugh again.
‘Deal. Oh, and Jesse’s coming along too. He’s got the best eye outta all of us for horses. And maybe even people, too.’
I returned her knowing look with a serving of side-eye.
‘Quit it, or I’ll get the shots out again.’
The next morning, so early that my eyes watered under my sunnies, the three of us climbed into Bailey’s truck. I opted for the small back seat of the double cab, with Jesse the last one in as he secured and double-checked the horse trailer behind the truck.
As I clutched my flask of coffee like a lifeline, I looked out at the passing scenery – the jagged peaks of the Tetons spearing the sky, the deep greens and earthy browns of the pines.
Wildflowers in every shade sprinkled the verges and endless fields in the distance; two birds of prey circled on the currents high up.
This place had a way of making you feel like a very small, very insignificant piece of a vast jigsaw in a way a city couldn’t.
People weren’t the main characters here.
‘You okay back there?’ Jesse said, turning to check. ‘What happens if you take those glasses off? You burn up or something?’
Bailey chuckled.
‘Fuck around and find out,’ she speculated. ‘You leave her be. She’s a night owl, not used to the hours us country folk keep, huh darlin’?’
I grunted my agreement, clinging to the caffeine.
‘How are you so cheerful this early in the morning?’ I murmured, wrapping Lottie’s oversized fleece-lined jacket around myself more tightly. Despite reaching the high twenties during the day, summer mornings in Jackson were barely in double digits.
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ he said, turning back to face out the front of the truck as Bailey stepped on the gas, the main highway stretching out into the far distance. ‘The sun’s out, life’s good, Dunkin’s on the mend and . . . well, I’ve rarely had more fun getting over three-day hangovers.’
I only just hid my smile as he glanced in the rear-view mirror.
‘You got any Lainey Wilson?’ I asked, watching as his expression changed with the memory dawning, the words he’d whispered right before our last . . . encounter. ‘Wake me up with some country music. I’ve heard she’s good.’
By the time we reached the sale, I was humming along to some of the tracks.
There were similarities between the heartfelt lyrics and darker undertones of the kind of music I liked, the guitars much lighter and more playful, but it suited the scenery, the whole vibe.
I put on my hat as I slid out of the truck, finally removing the glasses.
‘There you are,’ Jesse smiled, lifting the brim for a moment.
I flinched away, knowing I looked as tired as I felt, no make-up to hide behind. He frowned as Bailey wandered over to the huge outdoor ring, horses already lined up and ready to show.
‘Sorry, I just . . . I look like shit, so . . .’ I began, surprised when I felt a gentle touch under my chin, his finger brushing my skin and lifting my head.
‘You’re a whole other person in the morning, aren’t you?’ he said, his voice as soft as his eyes. Before I could respond, he added, ‘But you don’t look like shit, honey. You look like you need another coffee and a hug or something, but you’re beautiful. You know that, right?’
Caught out again, my thoughts stalled.
‘Y’all coming? Jesse, what’d you make of this pinto?’
Bailey’s words rang between us, but Jesse made no attempt to leave.
Instead, he stepped closer, putting an arm around my shoulder from the side, squeezing it for a moment.
The unexpected gesture and the kindness behind it, despite having done all kinds of other physical things with this man . . . suddenly felt intensely intimate.
‘Thanks,’ I whispered, resting my head against his side for just a moment.
But then I felt it again. The same feeling as in the kitchen, and again at the line dance. A tiny shift, a small crack appearing at the surface, growing into a fissure in my gut.
As he gently pulled back, I glanced up, disconcerted to find that his expression reflected mine – a frown, now masked by a small smile, as though he’d felt it too.
He looked up and over to Bailey.
‘I’m on my way. She moves well,’ he answered, staying close to my side as we approached the ring, the outside crammed with buyers. Moving me ahead of him, as we reached Bailey he positioned himself to shield me from the jostling crowd behind.
As they discussed the horses, Bailey pulling up the catalogue on her phone, I tried to unpick what the hell had just happened. Why was it that he could lift me up and fuck me against a wall – twice – but a brief side hug from him sent me into a spiral?
‘I might get some more coffee,’ I said a few minutes later, my muddled brain none the wiser. ‘You want some too?’
‘Not for me . . . but you want me to come with you?’ Jesse asked, while Bailey also declined the offer, craning to see one of the horses emerging from the back of the ring.
I shook my head.
‘Bailey needs your expertise. It’s fine.’
‘If anyone tries anything, you just come right back and find me. I ain’t got no problem cracking skulls first thing in the morning.’
Rolling my eyes at him, I couldn’t help smiling as I left. As if anyone would give a shit about me being here. I strolled around, looking for any sign of coffee, until a short queue of people caught my attention.
I joined the end, taking in the animated conversations around me, mostly about horses but often about family and snippets from everyday life, friends catching up.
There seemed to be an invisible web connecting everyone here, a genuine sense of community and a shared lifestyle that I’d never experienced at home.
Everyone here was likely part of a ranch in some way, worked with the land they lived on and met the same people over and over at sales and rodeos, one generation after another intertwined.
The solitary way I lived, the way most people lived back home in London, seemed so . . . empty in comparison.