1. Ramona #2
I take it, bracing my other palm against the rail. His grip is warm and rough, and he steadies me until both my boots are planted. He lets go before I can pull away. I wipe my free hand on my jeans, then do the same with the one he held.
“I’ll stay with her tonight.” Dad checks the cow before looking toward Julius. “Can you drive Ramona home? She’s got school tomorrow.”
“I can walk, Dad.” I reach for my jacket on the hook.
“It’s four miles of bad road in the dark, and you’re soaked.” He adjusts the towel beneath the calf. “Let him drive you.”
“You could ask me.” I pull one sleeve on, catching my thumb in the cuff. “I’m standing right here.”
“Ramona, please take the ride.” Dad looks up and waits until I stop fighting with my jacket.
“I’m happy to drive.” Julius slips his hands into his pockets. “You’ll have to tell me where I’m going, though.”
“I can manage directions.” I tug my jacket into place. “Don’t expect much conversation.”
He bites back the smile, but I catch it before he turns toward the door.
Outside, Julius opens the truck door while I tuck my hands into my sleeves. I climb in, keeping my muddy boots on the mat, and wait while he walks around the hood. When he starts the engine, cold air blows against my wet jeans.
“Give it a minute to warm up.” He turns the heater down while I pull my knees together.
I tell him which way to turn, but we barely get past the barn before June lifts her head above the fence. Julius slows, and I lean toward the window.
“Do you have horses, too?” He looks toward her as she comes closer to the gate.
“That’s June.” I bring my hand out of my sleeve and rest it against the glass. “She’s mine.”
“How long have you had her?” He keeps the truck moving slowly while I watch her follow us.
“Since she was born. She’s three now.” I lower my hand as we pass the gate. “I’m still training her.”
“Did you have her mother, too?” He checks the lane before turning.
“For a little while.” I find a loose thread on my cuff and wind it around my finger. “She died right after June was born. June couldn’t even stand, and Dad didn’t think she’d make it. He wanted to put her down before she suffered.”
Julius looks over, then back at the road. He waits while I work the thread loose from my finger.
“I asked him to let me try feeding her first.” I smooth my cuff against my wrist. “She took the bottle, so he let me keep trying. I slept in the barn because she needed feeding so often.”
“Did you get any sleep?” He turns the heater up a little.
“Dad made me go inside sometimes.” I glance toward him. “Then I’d get up to check on her, and he’d be out there with the bottle.”
Julius smiles at that. I look down at my sleeve before I start smiling, too.
“People still tell me she wasn’t worth the trouble.” I pull at the loose thread again. “She’s never going to be fast. Nobody’s expecting her to win anything.”
“Is that what you want her for?” He eases around a rough patch in the gravel.
“I just want her.” I stop pulling at my cuff. “I helped her stand up. Then she started following me around while I cleaned her stall, getting right under my feet.”
I can see him smiling now, but I keep going.
“The first time she ran, Dad had to make me stop worrying she’d fall.” I turn toward Julius. “I’d spent all that time trying to get her stronger, and then I wanted her to slow down.”
“You must’ve driven your dad crazy.” He glances at me, his smile widening.
“He survived.” I tuck my hands between my knees. “June did, too. I don’t care what anybody would pay for her.”
Julius stays quiet long enough that I look over. He catches me looking and returns his attention to the road, but the smile is still there.
“What’s that for?” I fold my arms over my jacket.
“I’m glad you were there for her.” He shifts his hand on the wheel. “You weren’t going to leave that calf tonight, either.”
“Dad kept trying to send me home.” I look through the windshield.
“He had to get you a driver.” Julius tips his head toward me. “You’re stubborn as hell.”
“You can let me out if you’re going to complain.” I point toward the lane.
“I’m not complaining.” He keeps driving. “I’d want you there if an animal of mine needed help.”
I open my mouth to answer, but I end up looking down at the thread hanging from my cuff.
You could just say thank you instead of tearing your sleeve apart.
Warm air finally reaches my knees. I stretch my hand toward the vent as Julius reaches to adjust it, and his knuckles brush mine. We both pull back, leaving the vent pointed between us.
“Sorry, I was turning that toward you.” He puts his hand back on the wheel.
“You had it right the first time.” I hold my fingers in the warm air and keep my eyes on the windshield.
He asks how much farther we have to go. I tell him to stay on this road until we reach our drive, although I nearly forget to mention which side it’s on.
He touched your hand, Ramona. You can still give directions.
“Did you name June after somebody?” Julius glances toward me once the road straightens.
“She was born in June.” I turn my palm toward the vent. “I know. I put a lot of thought into it.”
“I can tell.” He smiles at the road ahead. “Did your dad help, or was that all you?”
“You can stop talking about it now.” I turn toward the window, but my reflection gives away my smile.
He laughs, and I leave my face turned away until I can trust it. When I look back, he’s adjusting his grip on the wheel.
“I’ve seen you at school.” He glances over before continuing. “You usually walk straight past me.”
“I’m usually going to class.” I lower my hand into my lap. “Is that a problem?”
“No, but you never even look over.” He shifts against the seat, keeping his attention on the road.
“You’ve been checking?” I turn toward him far enough that my seat belt pulls against my shoulder.
His mouth opens, then closes. I wait while he rubs his thumb along the wheel.
“I notice when you walk past.” He gives me a quick look. “You don’t exactly slow down.”
“Were you expecting me to?” I cross my arms.
“People usually stop me.” He lifts one shoulder. “They want to talk about the rodeo or ask where I’m riding next. Sometimes I just want to get to class.”
“Then I’m doing you a favor.” I settle back into my seat.
“You are.” He pauses with a small smile. “You could say hello, though.”
“Maybe you’re not that interesting.” I look out the window before he can see me smiling again.
“Maybe not.” I can hear the grin in his voice. “Or maybe you were trying really hard not to look.”
“Oh my God.” I press my hand over my eyes. “Your ego is absolutely unbelievable.”
“I’m just saying.” He laughs, low and warm. “Tonight’s the most you’ve ever talked to me. And you spent half of it yelling.”
“You were getting in my way.” I pull my sleeve over my hand. “I probably could’ve told you without yelling.”
“I probably could’ve asked where you wanted me.” He slows for the curve. “We got there eventually.”
“You listened after that.” I glance at his hands on the wheel. “I wasn’t sure you would.”
“What did you think I was going to do?” He looks over briefly. “Argue while your dad needed help?”
“I didn’t know.” I shift against the seat. “I’ve never talked to you before tonight.”
He nods, keeping his eyes on the road. I wait for him to ask what I’ve heard about him, but he reaches to turn the heater down instead.
“You can ask me things, you know.” He settles his hand back on the wheel. “You don’t have to wait until I’m in your way.”
“All right, then. Does it bother you, everybody stopping you at school?” I turn toward him. “You usually look pretty happy about it.”
“Sometimes I don’t mind.” He taps the wheel. “Sometimes they’ve already decided where I should ride next, and they just want me to agree.”
“That sounds more like my dad than a girl at school.” I uncross my arms.
“My family does it, too.” He smiles a little. “I mentioned taking a weekend off, and Dad asked whether I was hurt.”
“Were you?” I look at the scrape above his wrist.
“I wanted to go fishing.” He glances over and catches where I’m looking. “The wrist happened later.”
“Did you tell him that?” I fold my hands in my lap.