Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Bea
“So,” I said as we walked the grocery store’s aisles, tossing ingredients into our cart for soup and odds and ends Bax said he needed. “You used to raise sheep.”
I hadn’t framed it as a question, so he asked, “What about it?”
“Why’d you quit doin’ that?”
He laughed. “Have you ever had the pleasure of shearin’ a sheep?”
“No.”
“Consider yourself lucky then. It fuckin’ sucks. I hated it my whole life, but that was the family business so…”
“If you hated it, why’d you decide to go into business with Rye? Athena mentioned you’re waitin’ on a new flock to be delivered.”
“Yeah, a small flock. It’s just for the soil.
When you have large numbers of cattle, they pretty much destroy the land.
That’s why we’ll be movin’ ’em from pasture to pasture throughout the year, and then we’ll replant the fields they’ve just eaten and trampled.
The sheep will help. Their manure helps fertilize, and we’ll plant cover crops to protect the soil after that.
Then, the cows will get rotated back to that pasture once it’s ready again.
“There’s a whole science behind it.”
“Huh. Cool.”
“Yeah,” he said. “It is. I thought my eyes would gloss over when Rye first started talkin’ about it, but it really is interestin’, and the work is good.
I like bein’ outside, workin’ with my hands, you know?
And it’s not so bad this time around ’cause I’ve got help.
After my dad died, it was all on me. My brothers and sister had already moved on.
They weren’t interested in raisin’ sheep, and I didn’t blame ’em.
We all had to suffer through it growin’ up.
At least now I’ve got people to commiserate with when we have a bad day, people to bounce ideas off of. It’s nice, havin’ a community.”
Bax lifted his crutch and pointed to a box of Cookie Crunch cereal.
“This is garbage. You eat this?” I said.
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am, but don’t tell anybody. I’ll get yelled at by at least four people. Rye’s not a health nut per se, but he’s got somethin’ against sugar, and if Athena sees it, I’ll have to sit through another PowerPoint presentation on heart disease.”
“Then we should get two boxes,” I said, and I tossed two in our cart.
“Bax Lee?” a woman said in a honeyed voice as she passed us in the cereal aisle. “Is that you?”
“Hey, Felicity,” Bax said to the very well endowed, tall, bottle blonde.
She pushed her purse strap up her forearm and anchored her hand on her cocked hip.
“Honey, what’d you go and do to yourself?
” She pointed to Bax’s broken leg, her eyes flicking back and forth between Bax and me, and she angled her body so she faced him straight on, and poor little ol’ me got pushed to the side.
“Yeah, I broke my leg.”
“Well, now I can see that. How’re you gettin’ on then? You know, I’d be happy to stop by your place if you need anything.” Finally, her stare landed on me and stayed there. “I could help around the house, wash the sheets, cook you up a little dinner some night.”
“Thanks, Felicity,” Bax said, and he leaned closer to me, balancing on one crutch.
He held the other beneath his arm and rested his hand over the waistband of my jeans above my hip, letting his fingers caress beneath my sweatshirt.
He slipped them into my belt loop and tugged me closer, using me as his crutch, and a thrill rushed through my body.
I didn’t mind so much being bossed and tossed around by Bax.
If any other man had done it, I would’ve nailed their balls to a wall.
“But I’ve got all the help I need. Ain’t that right, Sweetie? ”
Actually, Bax might’ve still been a target for my nail gun. I hadn’t decided yet, but it seemed we weren’t done playing house.
“Sure is,” I said, jumping back into my role, “but thanks so much for the offer, Felicity. You’re too kind.”
A sour look flashed across Felicity’s face, her eyes narrowing the slightest bit. “Alright then,” she said. “Guess I’ll see you around, Bax.” She tossed me one last look, her shrewd gaze landing on Bax’s hand still on my hip, and then she sighed and walked away.
When she was gone, I asked, “Who was that ?”
“Felicity Flanigan.” He leaned closer and whispered into my ear.
“She’s the president of the widower-slash-divorced-dad club.
Doesn’t matter who the guy is, if his wife leaves him or dies, she’s on him like white on rice.
I went to school with her, but she was three or four years behind me.
She actually showed up at my house a month after Candy passed.
Athena and I hid behind the couch till she was convinced I wasn’t home and left. ”
I snorted. “Oh my God.”
Bax laughed and his breath rushed past my ear. “Trust me. It was the right move. Even Athena said so.”
I tried to disguise the shiver that skittered down my spine, but then he pulled his hand away and his fingers trailed across my back beneath my shirt, and that just made it worse.
Three minutes hadn’t even passed and another woman called Bax’s name. He winced, and I pulled my truck key from my pocket and slipped it into his.
“Go. If you could run, I’d tell you to do that, but just crutch yourself out of here as fast as you can. I’ll check out and catch up.”
He grinned. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, smirking. He tipped his hat and dashed off, and I laughed when the woman poked in and out of the aisles, calling his name and trying to find him.
When I walked out of the Food Mart with two full paper bags balanced in my hands, Bax couldn’t stay hidden beneath his cowboy hat in my truck. His manners got the better of him, even though with his broken leg he was no help to me at all, but he climbed out and tried anyway.
“That was a close one,” he said as we pulled away.
“Don’t you worry, sweetie ,” I said. “I got your back.”
He grinned at me. “You’re like my very own four-leaf clover.”
“Oh yeah?” I lifted an eyebrow and looked down at his cast. “Well you ain’t no lucky penny.”
After dropping Bax off and lugging the bags into his kitchen, I spent the rest of the morning walking from Bax’s house down to Old Fish Creek Road and back again, along the winding gravel drive with my measuring wheel, zigzagging back and forth across the lane, staggering reflectors and sticking them into the dirt every three-tenths of a mile.
Normally, I would’ve spread them a little further apart, but Brand had said they got a lot of snow in this part of the state.
I wasn’t sure if Bax and Rye planned on welcoming guests in the winter, but at the very least, they’d have service people and delivery drivers coming and going down this lane, plus all the cowboys who’d work with the cows, and those guys would appreciate my overzealousness until Brand could install permanent lighting.
The Lee property had been bisected by the main road.
Technically, it was more like a driveway, just a really long one, but on the north side to my right, the property stretched out in fields and meadows, and Rye and Bax’s cows dotted the hillsides.
The southern side was like a whole different world, packed densely with trees and forests that slowly climbed into the mountains, and Bax and Athena’s house was at the end, where the two worlds met.
As I meandered, I saw squirrels with fluffy tufts of fur on the tips of their ears, or maybe it was just the one squirrel, but if so, the little shit had been following me, chittering at me the whole way.
I saw some kind of rodent or weasel that looked a lot like a ferret, but smaller and his coat was pure white, his face brown, with brown speckles down his white back.
After pausing to place a reflector, I stopped and tipped my face up to the sun in the center of the sky, peeking through the high tops of the trees.
God, was it possible to fall in love with air?
The faint breeze caressing my skin and warming me in the middle of the day smelled so damn good.
Some of the coniferous trees around Bax’s place gave off a citrus scent.
When I happened upon a spotty cell signal, I looked it up and was surprised to learn that the sweet smell came from white fir trees.
I also looked up the whole bison thing, and it turned out there was a wild herd that roamed northwest Wyoming, so my Wooly Wally really was a wandering free spirit.
The white firs were so pretty with their waxy, silver needles, and I wondered if I could have one for a Christmas tree.
I hadn’t had a tree in many years. What was the point?
I lived alone and worked long hours. Things slowed down at Lee Construction in winter, but there was always work to be done.
But now I could picture my apartment back in Sheridan, flooded with the orangey scent and glowing lights on a tree.
But then I’d have to actually buy the lights and decorations, and it all seemed like an unnecessary expense just to entertain me for a month.
The lane wound its way back to Bax’s house, and when I got there after placing the last reflector, my rust-and-silver Chevy reflected midday sunlight. It was old and barely hanging onto its dignity, but it ran like a beast.
When we returned from the store, I’d parked next to Bax’s currently unused big ol’ blue Ford.
The two trucks next to each other reminded me of the differences between Bax and me.
I was short and little compared to him, and kind of beat up and used.
Bax was handsome and tall and proud, but he’d been covered in dirt lately, just like his truck was covered in a healthy coat of dried mud.
The windshield looked like someone had smeared muddy water over it with their hands, but I figured Bax hadn’t had time to wash it before he got clocked by the bull who’d snapped his femur in half like a pencil.
I wondered if anyone would mind if I popped inside the house to fill my water bottle.
The day was cool, but the sun was scorching when I didn’t have trees as cover, and I’d gulped down the last of my supply half a mile ago.
Bax had said I was free to stop by anytime for coffee, so I hoped the invitation would extend to water too.
Hopping up the porch stairs, I intended to knock, but I heard grunting coming from behind the house.
For three seconds, I thought it was a bear, but then Bax’s voice became discernable when he yelled, “Aw, fuck!”
I jumped down the stairs and jogged in that direction, and I found him sprawled on the ground, covered head to toe in yellow paint with a long, extendable roller still gripped in one hand.
“What the hell did you do?”
“Can you please go away and pretend you never saw this?” he asked dejectedly, releasing the roller from his hand and flinging his arms out to his sides.
Paint plopped into the grass beside him, and he wiggled his left boot out of the five-gallon bucket he’d stepped in.
The tray he’d been dipping his roller into had been overturned, and a thick, yellow stream of the stuff flowed into the grass and the dirt below five feet away from him.
“Uh, nope.” I laughed. “Seriously, what were you tryin’ to do?”
“Well,” he said, sitting up and trying to wipe paint off his T-shirt, but all he managed to do was rub it in.
“I thought I’d get a head start on paintin’.
This place is a dump. I need to get it ready for when we open the cabins.
” He looked at the house, and that was when I realized the yellow paint dripping from Bax’s entire body matched the faded color of his old siding.
“You wanted to paint your house… by yourself, even though you know if you let go of your crutches, you’ll fall over?”
“Maybe?”
“How’d you even get the paint bucket out here?” I shook my head. “I can’t leave you alone for five seconds. Maybe I should’ve let those women have you. You probably could’ve convinced Felicity to paint your house.”
Bax scoffed and rolled his eyes.
“You know that artist?” I asked. “What’s his name? The guy who flicked paint onto the canvas?”
“Jackson Pollock?”
“Yeah, that’s the guy. It looks like he got mad at you.
You’re an idiot. This couldn’t have waited?
You know your brother has equipment that will do this job in a nanosecond compared to how long it’ll take you?
And he has people on the payroll who can do the job.
I could do it. There’s no need to endanger your ability to walk for the rest of your life. ”
“Whatever,” he grumbled. “I gotta do somethin’. I’m goin’ out of my mind.”
“Okay, well puzzles are just as fun and those you can do in a chair.”
“A stupid puzzle? That’s what you want me to do?” He rolled his eyes again, then swiped paint from his brow.
“For fuck’s sake. Stop tryin’ to wipe it off.
You’re just makin’ things worse.” Walking closer, I noticed the paint had landed in his hair on the crown of his head and had dripped beneath his shirt.
It was probably in his pants too. His sweats had been coated with it.
It was everywhere. “Alright, Michelangelo, let’s get you cleaned up.
That shit dries on your skin, you’ll be scratchin’ yourself bloody by the end of the day. ”
He looked down at the mess in his lap and on his arms, then rolled his shoulders. “Fine. If Rye gets back and sees me like this, I’ll never hear the end of it. There’s a hose around the side of the house.”
I laughed. “As much as the idea of hosin’ you down like a detainee in an Alabama prison amuses me, a hose isn’t gonna do the trick, genius. We need warm water and soap. Lots of soap.”
“I can’t shower yet.” Remarkably, it seemed not one speck of paint had landed on the part of his cast covering his foot and peeking out the right leg of his sweats.
“You have a tub, right, and I’m assumin’ you have garbage bags? I’ve got duct tape in my truck.”
With a good dose of apprehension in his voice, he asked, “What the hell you gonna do to me with duct tape?”
“Anything I want. Duct tape is magic. Just sit back and watch me work.”