3. Tammy #2
"There has to be another way," I muttered, turning away from the window and back to the mountain of bills. But as the afternoon shadows lengthened across the kitchen floor, no brilliant solution materialized, only the growing certainty that I was running out of both time and options.
The whiskey bottle clinked against the glass as I poured myself a generous two fingers. Derek never let me drink whiskey, said it was unladylike, which was exactly why I’d bought a case the day I closed on the ranch.
I moved outside, a glass in one hand, liquor bottle in the other, taking up roost in my normal evening spot.
The first sip of the amber liquid burned a now familiar path down my throat, warming me against the evening chill that had started to settle over Sunflower Hills.
From my perch on the sagging porch steps, I watched the sunset paint the sky.
Strokes of orange. Thick dashes of hot pink.
It might have been beautiful if I could stop thinking about losing this place, about never sitting on this crappy porch to watch a sunrise or sunset again.
Another day gone, another day closer to losing everything.
The wetness in my glass caught the last rays of sunlight, glowing like liquid gold.
If only it were actual gold, then I'd have enough to pay off the bank and wouldn't be sitting here, drinking away my sorrows while my future literally grazed in opposite corners of the pasture looking just as unlikely to mate as they had on day one. I’d opened the middle gate again, letting Mystery and Sassy have full roam of both sides. It didn’t matter if I gave them square miles or square inches, they found a way to avoid each other.
I needed to go out and put them up for the night, but I didn’t have the energy right now.
A few drinks, then I’d drag myself out there.
The shadowed creatures, the day darkening around them, continued to deliberately maintain their distance.
They’d made it an art form. Earlier, when I’d given all the horses their nutritional evening feed, I’d tried to have Mystery and Sassy in the same stall—the largest one in the stables, easily big enough for four horses.
That had almost led to a knockdown, drag out fight.
So, I’d put them in their separate stalls again.
About a week ago, I’d tried similar. For the next few days, Sassy hadn’t wanted to eat at all.
I wasn’t sure which was worse: horses trying to kill each other, or horses starving to death.
If these horses weren’t my last hope for financial salvation, I might have found their mutual disdain amusing.
Mystery and Sassafras were prime candidates for a real, slow-burn, enemies to lovers romance.
It would be so fulfilling to see it play out, but I couldn’t wait for them to have changes of heart. There wasn’t time.
"You two are literally my last hope," I called out, raising my glass in a mock toast. My voice carried across the quiet evening air, startling a nearby meadowlark into flight. "The least you could do is pretend to like each other long enough to make a baby. Hell, how about a little hate sex?"
Mystery's head lifted at the sound of my voice, his ears pricked forward momentarily before he returned to grazing. Sassafras didn't even bother to look up, too happily engrossed in a patch of clover to acknowledge my existence. A thick, rough braying called my gaze over to Artie. His spotted body looked dingy. He needed a good scrub down again. I’d cleaned Mystery up after he’d rolled in the dirt, but I hadn’t paid him any attention today.
I’d make it up to him tomorrow, give him a glorious grooming session and a bunch of apple slices.
“You’re the only one that really cares about me, Artie!
” I shouted out, tipping my glass to him as well.
He gave an adorable little jump that probably made his old haunches ache.
He understood me; I just knew he did. Horses were like dogs and cats.
Just big fur babies wanting love. Well… Mystery was a cat.
Sassy and Artie were decidedly dog like.
I took another swig of whiskey, longer this time, welcoming the burn. The alcohol dulled the edges of my anxiety, softening the sharp corners of my fear. It was a temporary solution, but tonight, temporary was all I had.
Derek's voice drifted into my mind, unwelcome as a tax collector. "You'll come crawling back when you realize running a ranch isn't just standing there looking pretty."
I could see him so clearly. That day early on when he’d shown up, unwanted, to mock Sunflower Hills and what I was trying to accomplish.
He’d leaned against the porch column, looking upward when the weight of his body made it creak in protest. He’d crossed his arms over his chest, that trademark infuriating smirk playing at his lips, as if the creaking of the house confirmed his belief that I was going to fail.
He'd always looked at me like I was a particularly amusing child, my dreams and ambitions nothing more than adorable little phases to be indulged until I grew out of them.
He said I was cute when I daydreamed. I never wanted a man to call me cute again.
"You can’t make it on your own," he'd continued, tone dancing between acidic and condescending.
"Ranching is in my blood, Tammy. Not yours.
You're a city girl playing cowgirl, and sooner or later, reality's going to catch up with you.
" Those were his parting words to me that day, as if I wasn’t already aware that I had zero experience.
But grit can get a girl a long way.
And so can a deep-rotted need to prove a walking red flag wrong.
I drained my glass and poured another, the whiskey bottle now dangerously lighter.
How long could I survive overdue red notices, empty feed bins, failing machinery, and uncooperative horses? The truth was that reality was running me ragged.
But crawling back to Derek? I'd rather sleep in the stable with Mystery, temperamental diva that he was.
Darkness spilled like ink across the ranch, the last traces of daylight fading into deep blue. One by one, stars began to appear overhead, pinpricks of light that seemed to wink at me with encouragement: “there’s still brightness even in the dead of night”.
The vast sky over this open land had been one of the first things I'd fallen in love with when Derek brought me out here from Kansas City.
It was so clear, untainted by city lights.
Its wideness felt different these days, stretching above me, indifferent to my troubles, a reminder of how small and insignificant my problems were in the grand scheme of things.
A small woman. Smaller problems. Unimportant when it came to keeping the world turning.
I refilled my glass. Was this my third or fourth? Did it matter? I was going to wreck my liver faster than I wrecked this floundering property.
Placing the bottle down on the second step, I glared at it, then gave it a sharp poke with my index finger.
It fell over, tumbling down the risers to clatter against the craggy ground.
I slid off the top step, wincing when a splinter threatened to push through the worn jeans and embed in my ass.
I rocked back and forth, seeing if it was really going to pierce.
When it didn’t, I leaned back against the weathered porch step, tilting my face up to the heavens.
The wood creaked beneath me, another reminder of all the repairs I couldn't afford to make.
This whole place was held together by little prayers and well-placed patches, much like its owner.
A shooting star streaked across the sky, a brief flash of silver against black. An old childhood habit kicked in, and I closed my eyes to make a wish.
Please let Mystery and Sassafras make a baby. Please let me keep this ranch. Please don't let Derek be right.
When I opened my eyes, another meteor was cutting through the darkness, its trail slightly longer than the first. Then another.
And another. A meteor shower, unexpected and breathtaking.
Under different circumstances, I might have grabbed a blanket and sprawled out in the pasture to watch nature's light show.
Instead, I remained with my back pressed against rotting wood slats, the empty whiskey glass cool against my palm, counting falling stars.
Falling like the world around me.
Falling like my bank account balance.
Falling like the pieces of my broken, busted heart.
Among the meteors, one light moved differently than the others.
Instead of the quick streak of a falling star, this one seemed to hover, pulsing slightly before changing direction.
It was brighter too, with a bluish tinge that stood out against the silvery meteors.
Was some once in a century comet supposed to rocket past Earth tonight?
"Weird," I murmured, squinting up at it.
Probably a satellite or a plane, my alcohol-fuzzy brain reasoned, though it didn't move quite like either.
After a moment, I dismissed it, too lost in my own troubles to give much thought to strange lights in the sky.
The universe had bigger problems than Tammy Tucker and her failing horse ranch.