4. Temporary State
Temporary State
Colt
“Bullshit. You’re fucking going,” Knox cursed at me after I announced I wouldn’t attend Ivy’s first Cowboy Night at the Sapphire Saloon.
Not only did I have no interest whatsoever in this matchmaking scheme, but I’d just finished cleaning out the stall for a new horse we took in today that was in critical condition.
Silver Lightening, an old winning racehorse that a rancher had once bought and bragged about, but neglected as he aged, had been in a barn fire last night a few counties over.
The horse barely got out alive—and reportedly had kicked open the doors and saved several other horses before the barn caved in.
The horse was hailed as a hero. Which was far from what I felt like today, of all days—the anniversary of the tragedy onboard the USS Hilton.
The one where I tried to prevent an accident, but unlike Silver, the accident happened anyway.
Could I have done more? The guilt had plagued me ever since, but I tried keeping myself busy to not think about the specifics of that tragic day today.
The dappled grey with a black mane and tail came to us with a respiratory problem from all the smoke inhalation.
Dusty had put him on anti-inflammatories and other treatments after his vet visit, but the next few days would be critical.
If Silver made it through that, it’d be about two weeks or so before he would recover.
When I gazed into Silver’s eyes, they held more depth than I’d seen in others. Like he was aware of how far from grace he’d fallen, from a champion racer to an aging nobody, to suddenly a hero who saved others, but fighting to stay alive now.
He had captured my attention right away. Here on the ranch, we knew how horses seemed to take fondly to certain persons. Well, Silver took to me, following me around the paddock. He only calmed during Dusty’s vet inspection when I was with him.
I could identify with him. Especially today, three years since the tragic accident on board the USS Hilton that claimed the life of my best friend.
Silver coughed, and I welcomed the interruption in my thoughts again so I didn’t think about the life of a young man that was taken too early.
“The respiratory issues Silver has concern me. I should stay,” I yelled over to Knox, who was checking over schedules at the barn desk.
“Brax is posted on duty for the night. He has your number and can text if anything happens.” Knox wouldn’t give this up.
“Why are you suddenly so eager to go to this thing? When you first heard about it, you laughed. Said you didn’t need Ivy’s help finding a woman.”
He shrugged it off. “Maybe I’m curious to see what Ivy has cookin’ for this event. And you know, we should support her efforts in general.”
“Daisy gonna be there?” I arched a brow.
“So I’ve heard.” Another shrug, voice noncommittal.
“What do you think, Silver? Should I stay or go?” I reached up and petted his nose. He seemed to nod and even smiled, parting his lips slightly and baring his teeth. “Yeah? You’re right. I wouldn’t mind seeing Ivy again.”
“What’s that?” Knox didn’t quite catch the tail end of my talk with the horse.
“I said I’ll go and be your wingman.” And I hoped I wouldn’t regret it.
I sat on the edge of my bunk in the cabin I shared with Knox and stared at the date on my phone. I’d showered and dressed, almost ready to leave for the Sapphire. My phone buzzed. The group chat with my sisters lit up.
Maisy: Brooks and I are hosting Christmas Eve this year. Mom already called dibs on the ham. Chelsea, you’re doing your potatoes. I’m making Colt’s favorite—marshmallow salad.
Chelsea: Will he answer?
Maisy: COLT. You are coming home for Christmas, right?
Chelsea: Honestly, forget Christmas, Colt. Just come home for GOOD. Rex has become buddies with the fire chief in Holly Creek. They’re hiring.
Maisy: Or work at the diner. Mom won’t say it, but she’s getting older. The diner is too much for her alone.
Chelsea: Dad would want you here with us.
And there it was. The one-two they’d perfected over the past year. Maisy with the warmth, Chelsea with the guilt, and both of them landing on Dad like it was a coordinated strike. Which it was.
My sisters were brilliant, with careers they loved.
And they’d both also married well to men with money and probably didn’t have to worry about anything the rest of their lives.
They were sweet mothers, too, and they absolutely could not understand why their little brother was shoveling horse manure on a ranch in Montana instead of coming home.
They weren’t wrong. My mother was aging and probably did need help at her diner.
I had only visited a couple of times since I joined the Navy.
Our father’s grave at Holly Creek Memorial sat on a hill overlooking the town he’d served as a doctor for thirty years, and the last time I’d visited, I’d spent an hour pulling weeds in the rain.
I should go back. I’d always known that I would.
But every time I tried to picture myself behind the counter of my mother’s diner, smiling at the same people from the small town day in and day out, my chest locked up.
There, I was only known as Dr. Calhoun’s boy.
Like I’d spend the rest of my life standing in the shadow of a man everyone loved and measuring myself against the bar he and my sisters set so high I could never reach.
Montana didn’t have that shadow. Just the big blue sky and work and exhaustion at the end of the day that came from using your body so hard your mind finally shut up.
It had Ash, who never asked anything more of me than to parlay being a good soldier into being a good ranch hand.
It had the ranch and the crew and Eldon’s terrible coffee and Sunday church on the hill.
It also had Ivy Wylde, but I would not think about her right now.
My sisters deserved a response. I knew that. I also knew I needed to take care of one thing I came here to do. Put the past—the accident on the ship—behind me and move on.
Could I do that by Christmas? I could picture walking into Flora’s Diner to surprise Mom, and her face lighting up. The guilt hit me hard, especially on this day of all days.
I typed back a single response.
Colt: I’ll be there for Christmas.
Maisy sent back a string of heart emojis.
Chelsea sent back a photo of her holding one of her kids and crying.
I locked the phone and set it face down on the mattress.
One fight at a time. Tonight, the only obligation I had was showing up at the Sapphire Saloon and pretending I gave a damn about Cowboy Night. For both Knox’s and Ivy’s sake.
Knox appeared in the doorway, showered and reeking of aftershave, his ironed snap-button shirt tucked into jeans so new they still had the crease, and his long hair pulled up in a man bun.
The guys teased him now and then about the length of it, but he said the military forced him to keep it short and he’d vowed never again.
“You coming or not? Jake is driving.” The newest guy at the ranch had a double-cab truck.
“Yep.” I stood, grabbed my hat, and waved it in front of my nose. “A little heavy-handed with the cologne, per usual.”
“Women like it.” He grinned and pointed the brim of his hat at me.
“Does Daisy?”
“She rolls her eyes at everything I say or do.”
“Maybe less aftershave and she wouldn’t.”
He stared hard at me for a moment, then cursed and went back into the bathroom. As I passed through the hall, I saw him through the open door scrubbing his neck with a washcloth. Good. Maybe now I could breathe in the truck on the way to the saloon.
New string lights across the ceiling, and a banner over the stage that read COWBOY NIGHT in hand-painted letters, greeted us when we walked into the saloon. A DJ played all the latest country hits. I’d say it was a little more crowded than the typical saloon Friday night in town. But not packed.
Would Ivy be satisfied with the turnout? She’d actually pulled it off, though. I spotted her near the stage talking to Daisy and Sage, her blonde hair down her back, and a black dress that showed off her curves.
My eyes did a quick tour of her, as usual, trying not to linger in any one particular place, but I couldn’t help noticing the thigh-high boots that were less ranch wear and more something I might have seen women wear back home in New York.
She was stunning. No matter our friendship status, I was a man with eyes who could see Ivy’s beauty—inside and out.
I was proud of her. The thought landed before I could stop it, simple and clear and completely unhelpful.
She’d made a plan and set out to accomplish it because Ivy Wylde had decided it would be.
I was proud of a woman who was not mine and of whom I had no business being proud. And I needed a beer immediately.
Knox and I claimed our spots at the end of the bar.
Jake and some of the other ranch hands joined us.
Amidst the loud music and the energy in the room, we all checked out the women here.
Some were young, college age maybe, and too young for my tastes.
Besides, I wasn’t walking out of here with any hope for a new relationship status.
Not if I were heading home for the holidays and likely not coming back.
I took a long pull of my beer, thinking over the past year here at the ranch.
Had it fixed me? I didn’t know. Some days the answer was yes.
Some days it was Caleb’s face and a sound like the world cracking open during the accident, and I was right back on that deck with salt spray on my lips and blood that wasn’t mine on my hands.
“What’s eating you?” Knox asked, jolting me out of the past.
“Nothing.”
“You look like you’re somewhere else.”
I took another drink. “Just thinking about what comes next. Whether I should head home sooner rather than later. My sisters are on me about it.”