Chapter 16
Kayla
Castlebrook Town Crier Text Chain
Sue Cruthkins
Who wants to have me over for dinner? I do not feel like cooking tonight.
Sylvie
I’ll pick you up after work, Aunty Sue.
“Go, Ben, go!” Colt cups his hands around his mouth, cheering his son on. Ben waves at his dad, running past first base, headed for second. Sylvie and Mandy cheer just as loudly on my other side, pushing their little boy to do his best.
“Yeah, Ben!” I cry when his little foot stomps down on second base safely, getting into the game just as much as his moms and dad.
It’s another Friday night, but it’s the first Friday night that Ben is playing in a baseball game.
He started baseball just last week, and they’re already playing Malta’s minor league team.
And I might be a little biased, but Ben is crushing it.
“He’s so good, right?” Mandy leans in, squeezing my arm.
“So good,” I agree, nodding my head. Colt’s baseball cap, the one from our ride to the wildflower valley, is cinched tight on my head.
“We should get him signed up for batting lessons,” Colt says, looking directly at me. It’s not my place, but I nod in agreement anyway.
“Let’s see what he says when he comes off the field, maybe he hates it,” Sylvie hesitates, watching her little boy as he stands at the ready for the next ball to fly.
“Sure looks like it,” Mandy giggles as Ben once again waves to us in the stands, smiling wide.
“We should wait to see what the specialist says after his dyscalculia test, though,” Sylvie looks at me, waiting for my opinion.
After the first month of tutoring, I had suggested getting Ben tested for dyscalculia.
He exhibits all of the common traits. He struggles with reading clocks, he forgets the tips and tricks taught to him frequently, he needs visuals for everything.
It might be nothing, but if it is something, it will be easier for him to figure it out now rather than later on in life.
“I don’t know,” I sigh, shifting in my seat. “You don’t want to treat it like a punishment, you know? You want to treat it like it’s everyday life, so that he doesn’t associate it with a bad connotation. Taking away a fun activity might give him the wrong outlook on the whole thing.”
“Let’s all just wait,” Colt says, revoking his own suggestion. “We’ll see if Ben still likes baseball in a few weeks. If he does, then we can talk about trying out batting lessons. Whether the test goes well or not.” He looks to me again, as if for confirmation, so I nod my head again.
“Okay,” Sylvie agrees, squeezing Mandy’s hand.
I’ve noticed over the past few weeks on the ranch that all three parents balance each other really well.
There’s always one who’s the voice of reason, even if the other two get a little gung-ho.
Like just last week, when Ben had voiced an interest in Mutton Bustin’.
I had no idea what that was, until Sylvie told me it was riding sheep—a little kid’s version of bull riding.
Mandy and Sylvie had been on board immediately, but Colt had reminded them that Mutton Bustin’ could lead to an interest in bull riding, and maybe it was a better idea to get Ben interested in a different area of the rodeo instead.
Jake and Finn are gonna take him out to try and rope some cattle next weekend instead.
Apparently, Finn, who I haven’t actually met yet, used to be a rodeo star for breakaway roping.
I don’t know what that is either, but it’s still pretty cool.
The point is, they all balance each other perfectly, working like a well-oiled machine. I don’t think any of them realize how lucky Ben really is to have such a support system in his corner.
Once the game wraps up—with Ben’s team narrowly beating Malta’s by one run—Colt and I walk down to the field with Sylvie and Mandy to congratulate him. He’s still bouncing on the balls of his feet, cheeks flushed from running. He glows under the praise of his parents.
“I got to second base twice!” Ben crows, hugging his moms and dad in turn, then surprising me with a hug too. “Did you see?”
“Sure did,” I say, ruffling his sweaty hair. “You’re a regular pro already.”
Colt grins, clearly proud. “Let’s get you home, champ. You’ve earned a pizza and a special bedtime.” Mandy rests her hand on her son’s head, guiding him gently to the gate beside the dugouts.
“Can Kayla come over for pizza?” Ben asks, already tugging at my hand. We’d worked our way up to him calling me by my name when we’re not at school. It felt weird having him be so formal in his own home, so I put an end to it.
“Oh, Kayla has plans,” Sylvie says quickly. I frown at her, shaking my head subtly. I don’t have plans. “But she’ll hang out again soon, okay?”
Ben pouts a little but nods. Mandy distracts him with the promise of chocolate milk, and just like that, the family heads toward their car. Colt gives a quick wave before gesturing for me to follow him to his truck.
“Where are we going?” I ask, legs pumping to catch up with him. “I thought we were going home with them?”
“Nah, there’s something we need to do,” he tells me, slowing his pace so I don’t have to work so hard to keep up with him.
“Oh?”
“Promised you a new pair of boots, didn’t I?” He glances down at the beat-up pair of Converse on my feet, dirty with dust from the diamond and years of wearing them without washing them.
I smile as I slide in. “I guess if I’m gonna be sticking around Castlebrook, I should get a pair.”
“You heard anything from Harry about next year?” My smile falters.
My principal hadn’t reached out to me once, not about how things were going this year, and not about whether there would be a job for me next year.
School ends in a few weeks, and I’m just coasting on by.
At first, it was nice, but now I’m kinda panicking.
Sensing my panic, Colt places his hand on my knee and squeezes. “He’s probably just busy with end-of-year stuff. Don’t worry. You’ll hear from him.”
“Maybe.”
“Until then, we were gonna ask if you wanted to stick around and help Ben with his math some more? Maybe work ahead so he’s not so lost next year? The job comes with free room and board.”
“Colt, I’m not living with you for free,” I swear, I’ve said these words to him before.
“Fine, you can continue to pay rent. But we’ll be paying you, so it’s kind of just an extra step,” he shrugs as he swings the truck into a nearly empty parking stall along Main Street.
Castlebrook Outfitters is still open based on the flashing sign in their front window.
The warm golden light of late spring slants through the display windows.
Colt jogs around the truck, opening the door for me.
His hand on the base of my back guides me into the store, where the smell of leather hits me.
“You’re gonna need a good pair if you’re gonna be out on the ranch all summer,” Colt says, walking ahead with easy confidence.
I trail after him, my eyes catching on a rack of embroidered boots in every color imaginable. “I don’t remember agreeing.”
“You’ll agree,” he tells me confidently. “Anyways, we still have to go camping down in your valley. The best time to do that is when the flowers are in full bloom at the end of June.”
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him, instead of outright agreeing. I want to stay, of course I do. But if I don’t have a job here for next year, then I’m gonna have to look elsewhere. It will be easier to do that when I’m not confined to a small town.
“Fine,” he mutters, clearly unhappy with my response. He picks out a couple of pairs of boots, passing me the boxes and making me try them on. Each pair, he critiques my walk like he’s a fashion judge on a reality show.
“Is it really that serious?” I huff when he rejects my sixth pair of boots.
“If you’re going to be wearing them all day, then you want something comfy.
Something lightweight that won’t make your feet drag or make the heat unbearable.
There’s an art to this, trust me.” He thrusts another pair of boots at me.
This pair, a dark brown with flowers embroidered along the front in white thread, fits perfectly.
Comfier than any of the other pairs I’ve tried on.
I walk to the end of the aisle and back, placing my hands on my hips and waiting for Colt’s approval.
“Perfect,” he says with a quiet nod. He grabs the box, without the boots, from the bench. “I’ll meet you at the front. Bring those.” He points to my dirty sneakers. “Hal has a garbage up front you can toss them in.”
“I am not tossing out my Converse,” I call, faced with his back as he walks away, completely ignoring me.
I huff as I pluck off the boots and slip my feet back into my Converse.
By the time I get to the front checkout, Hal has already rung up the boots, and Colt has already paid.
“You didn’t need to buy those for me,” I tell him.
He slips his wallet back into his pocket, shrugging.
“Take it as a signing bonus.”
I roll my eyes. “I never said I was taking the job.”
“You will. Night, Hal.”
“Goodnight, Hal,” I tell the old man, who also owns the feed store down the block.
“Goodnight, Kayla,” he smiles politely, tipping his hat. He doesn’t acknowledge Colt. I consider it a small victory.
“Old man played poker at my house every Friday night when I was growing up, but sure. Ignore me for the pretty lady.” Colt grumbles under his breath as he grabs my boots and makes his way out of the store.
By now, the sun is starting to set, casting a glow over the small mountain town.
The boardwalk sidewalk creaks under our weight as we make our way to the truck.
Once again, Colt holds my door open for me, making sure I’m all safely tucked away before closing the door.
He tosses the boots in the backseat and then hops into the driver's side. “I told you to toss those.” He points to my feet.
“They’re still perfectly fine. No holes or anything.”