One #2
I relied on the smell, the weight, and the feel of each bowl in my hands to know what was inside.
The small heavy bowl that burned my palms was definitely gravy.
The light basket—biscuits. The metal tray—eggs.
The thunk of my coffee mug on the table when Hollie set it down clued me in on where it was.
And the steam on my top lip when I lifted it told me it needed to cool for a minute or two.
I utilized a biscuit as an edge around my plate so I wouldn’t accidentally push food onto the table.
But my hands shook and I overthought every single move I made. The sensations in moments like this prickled against my brain, clashing and blurring together—like waves of static over an old TV.
Conversation flitted around the table amongst the cowboys and staff, and I failed to listen to most of it.
Where was Bea? Did she come to the cowboy breakfast?
Was she still angry with me? I shook my head—Hollie was cooking this morning.
I remembered they took turns in the kitchen.
Bea probably wasn’t up yet. Tension released from my shoulders as I realized I wouldn’t have to face her yet.
Tag raised his voice enough to be heard above the clamour. “Alright, everyone.”
Silence fell as the boss started talking.
“Real quick ‘fore we get started this mornin’, I want everyone to know that Peter is gonna be helpin’ around the ranch for the foreseeable future and movin’ into the bunkhouse later this afternoon.
If he needs anything, give him a hand. There’s some ropes hangin’ various places—those are his. Just leave them be.
“Peter,” he directed his voice at me, “You already know the cowboys. But today we also have Penny Hawkins here with us for breakfast since we had a foalin’ early this mornin’, but she’s just the vet.”
“I’m sorry. Just?” A raspy female voice—must’ve been Penny’s—lifted in surprise.
Everyone laughed a little. My forced smile felt like a grimace.
Tag continued, a whisper of laughter in his voice, “This weekend is gonna be pretty intense. The Holmes are leavin’ tomorrow and will be gone till Tuesday.
I’m runnin’ a rodeo in San Antonio Friday to Sunday.
Rudy is goin’ with me. We also got a last minute call about the sheep.
Cooper, actually”—a smile laced Tag’s tone—“will be drivin’ the trailer out to Austin Friday night.
And he’ll be back sometime Saturday afternoon.
“The big house is completely booked and we’ve got good weather. So Harlan and Cody will be leadin’ trail rides, and everyone needs to be available to help Bea with the bed and breakfast should she need you. And we finally got the balin’ done, so today we gotta pick up bales at the leased pasture.”
A few people groaned.
“Peter, Cody, Harlan, and Cooper should head that way directly after breakfast, and Rudy is stayin’ back for chores. Duties are posted on the wall if you have any questions.”
All at once, the chatter around the table began again and utensils clattered as if they were being gathered up. Breakfast was over and, apparently, it was time to get to work.
How was I supposed to just jump in and work? No one realized the amount of mental energy it took to do anything—let alone learn so many new spaces. Every step I took today would be a step into the unknown.
Nausea kicked the biscuits around my stomach.
Tag said I could find somewhere else to go.
Quickly, I wracked my brain. Was that feasible?
Where would I go? I could go to my parents’ home.
Mom would welcome that, but Dad? I shuddered at the thought.
I hadn’t meant to make enemies out of my family members, but a few of them were out for my blood.
Funny how they all begged me to live sixteen years ago but now would strangle me themselves if given the chance.
Yeah, I wouldn’t be sharing a roof with my dad.
I had a few friends, but couch surfing when I already wanted to die of humiliation didn’t sound like a great move.
I didn’t want to be in the way or make people feel like they had to take care of me.
Not to mention, I doubted anyone would be giving me a ride.
I’d have to travel, move, grocery shop, and do everything all by myself.
That sounded as daunting as working the ranch.
Hollie revisited, announcing her presence with a hand on my shoulder. “Dishes go in the bin at the end of the table. Want some coffee to go?”
Considering my eyes stung with exhaustion, I agreed.
A few minutes later, with a paper cup burning the pads of my fingers, I was corralled into a truck with three cowboys who were way too peppy for five forty-five in the morning.
And Cooper cranked up his stupid music.
My hands were slick with sweat and my face itched with caked-on grime. My Rockies hat, backward, shielded my neck from the unrelenting sun, but my forearms burned—not so lucky. For the dozenth time, I wondered how the cowboys buoyed their spirits all day long.
Blindness aside, this work sucked.
But their banter had persisted for hours—teasing and goofing around as if they were on some kind of vacation, not breaking their backs picking up hundreds of hay bales.
The truck in front of us moved at walking speed, so that we could toss bales onto the huge trailer.
For a majority of the day, I stood on it, stacking the bales while Cooper drove, but eventually we rotated.
Now I walked, finding bales in the dark and tossing them.
I’d pocketed my cane once I realized the bales were spaced about twenty to twenty-five paces apart.
Ignoring the micro-cuts all over my skin, I wrapped my hands around a bale’s cords, and lifted. Listening for the truck distance, I launched it high and far when I knew it would hit the trailer. A rewarding metallic thud let me know it did.
“So, Peter…” Cody talked around a wad of chew which only served to dramatize his drawl.
Even though I’d gotten drunk with all these guys, I’d never had a real conversation with any of them.
I guessed Cody to be in his mid-twenties, and honestly he seemed like the troublemaker around here.
“What’d you do for a pay check before deciding to cowboy? ”
Cooper, walking beside me, chuckled. “Decide doesn’t play a part here, Cody.”
“Ah, the big boss man’s making you work?” Cody asked.
Ignoring his last comment, I said, “I’m a CPA.”
“No way!” Cody hooted in laughter. “You’re a paper pusher?”
Certain he didn’t realize that “paper-pusher” actually meant clerical work, I just conceded with a roll of my eyes. “Sure.”
“How’s that back feeling?”
“Fine,” I lied, ignoring that my muscles were so tight they felt like they’d snap.
“And those hands?”
“Fine.”
“You’re bleeding, man.”
I bit out. “I said I’m fine.”
“You might not be fine.” Cody gave a low whistle. “But I’ll tell you what is fine.”
I didn’t give him any more attention because I didn’t care.
“That woman.” He swore.
My head snapped up, my blood pulsing hot in my veins.
“Don’t, Cody,” Cooper warned.
“Holy hell, that red hair and tight ass…” He groaned. “I’d of forfeited my next month of paychecks for the chance to bend her—”
Hot rage coiled my fists as a vulgar fantasy of my wife poured out of his mouth.
Cody was too far away. Up on the trailer, safe from the blind guy.
He clicked his tongue. “But, I guess it tracks that the CPA is only book smart. Cowboys have common sense. And you proved you don’t have a lick of it—the way you were carrying on.
” He laughed. “I never would’ve let that woman out of my sight—” Catching his unintentional joke, he cackled.
“Oh, wait—shit—I guess you couldn’t help that. ”
I wanted to run up to the end of the moving trailer, climb it, and shove him off. I wanted to straddle his chest and beat out his front teeth. I wanted to watch him roll beneath the tires.
But that would require a dexterity and awareness I didn’t have anymore.
My muscles twitched, tempted to try, but then I stumbled over a hay bale, because amid the distraction, I lost count of my steps. Red heat billowed into my cheeks as I grabbed the cords, and threw it—as hard as I possibly could—right at Cody.
But all he did was laugh.