Chapter Twenty-two
Jake had the reins in both hands, monumentally failing to sit the trot they had broken into, evidence that his horse was not exactly a smooth ride.
He attempted a posting trot, remembering how he’d been taught to lift himself out of the saddle, up and down like a pogo stick, and his comfort grew.
It was harder in the big saddle, but not impossible. Tanner gave him a strange look.
He heard Liz behind him, laughing at something Brady had said, and sighed inwardly.
Tanner was barely moving in the saddle, the exact opposite of how he must look.
He continued with his feeble efforts for comfort, his toes in the slightly too big boots he’d borrowed from the mudroom sliding in the stirrups.
He lost his balance, cursing under his breath.
Tanner cleared his throat awkwardly and flicked a glance in his direction.
“Relax your back and open your hips. It’s easier to balance when you settle onto your seat bones. Dad’s old trail saddle is meant for sitting,” Tanner said.
Had he just talked to him directly? Jake nodded, deferring to his brother, tucking the other tidbit that he was riding in one of his father’s saddles away. He didn’t need to dwell on that right now or it would consume him, and he wouldn’t enjoy the ride.
He was determined to make the most of this, to understand the life he would’ve had if his mother had never taken him away.
He felt out of place more often than not, but there was this hum of recognition in the background that wouldn’t go away.
That where he was right now was important to be present for.
Maybe it was opening locked memories, or he was connecting with his genetic heritage?
It certainly wasn’t midtown Manhattan, the daily rhythm of the city fading each time he thought about it, and that stark difference made everything new he discovered about this ranch magnified.
“Thanks. A bit rusty,” Jake replied. He sat, gave it his best try, and as he relaxed his spine and sat deeper into the back of the saddle, it helped somewhat.
“Sandy’s got a long back, it makes her jog terrible. Can you gallop?” Tanner asked. “We’ll lope for a bit first, so you can feel it out.”
Jake took Tanner in as he spoke, envious of his brother’s effortless ease.
He had one hand on his thigh, the other holding the reins loosely, the leather looped.
The only sign of the tension Tanner carried with him everywhere was his scowl and shoulders so tense they were halfway to his ears.
Jake wondered if Brett had been like that too.
Their eyes met, Tanner waiting for his yes or no. It was something, at least. He’d take this back and forth over shouting and insults.
“Sure,” Jake replied. His horse’s lope, which he seemed to recall was the same as a canter, had to be better than the teeth-cracking trot they had settled into.
Tanner whistled twice, and then he and his horse surged forward.
Jake clucked at Sandy, and she followed suit, picking up a rocking cadence that he easily sank into.
Much better. He looked quickly behind him, and Liz and Brady were close on their tails.
Brady had a huge grin on his face, and he spurred his horse up beside Jake as Tanner’s pulled ahead, Chip tossing his head and squealing while Tanner muttered, “Hey, shithead, can it,” and tightened his reins.
“This is better,” Brady quipped as they loped along the gravel road. The sun was shining, there were a few birds out, and the breeze swishing through the long grass at the side of the road sounded soft and inviting.
“Definitely. I think my spine may be compressed,” Jake replied, and winced. “This saddle will take some getting used to.”
Brady chuckled and gestured at Sandy. “She’s a good, safe girl.
She’s built like a barn, but she’s never been lame in her entire life.
Not sure how, since she’s got the conformation of a camel, but we don’t mind.
Liz would breed her, if we weren’t so sure the foal would come out looking like more of a camel than her mama. ”
Jake only understood about half of what Brady had spewed out, but he nodded all the same. “I don’t mind. Safe is good. I haven’t ridden in a long time.”
“You’re gonna hurt tomorrow, New York,” was all Brady said, still smiling. “But I’m glad you rose to the challenge. Maybe that West blood will kick in, and we’ll make a cowboy out of you yet.”
That made Jake laugh, and Brady joined him, earning a peevish look back from Tanner.
“Coming around,” Liz called, and spurred ahead of them, catching up to Tanner and pulling abreast. Jake watched her as she gestured to the west, and Tanner nodded, pointing in the same direction.
Regret and want for a life he could have lived stole over him.
His brothers and Liz were comfortable and easy in the saddle, proving they belonged here.
Liz held up a hand, and he was prevented from diving into that train of thought as they eased into a walk, the horses snorting and jostling. Jake barely had to do anything, Sandy automatically slowing down as soon as Brady’s horse did.
“We’ll skirt up over there, check the fence lines on the south pasture while we’re here. I have fifty head of yearling cattle in that field that haven’t had eyes on ’em yet this week,” Tanner called back. “Up for it?”
“Sure thing,” Jake lied, and shifted in his saddle. Brady echoed with a “Yep!” and gathered his reins in.
Tanner whistled and they took off, this time at a gallop.
Jake grappled for the horn and held on until Sandy picked her pace, and then he let go and enjoyed the speed.
Liz was leaned over in her saddle, churning up dirt behind her as her horse and Tanner’s bumped each other, Liz’s laughter echoing back to him, the two of them obviously racing.
Brady was still smiling ear to ear but keeping pace with him.
They followed along, and Jake leaned forward like his brother beside him, shortening his reins as Sandy tossed her head, her mane bouncing over her neck. She was also happy to get moving.
As they rounded a bend in the road, dirt flying everywhere, hoofbeats rattling on the packed dirt of the road, Jake’s breath caught in the wind whipping into his face.
The adrenaline rush stole over him, along with a hum of recognition in his body that whispered, You are where you are supposed to be.
He liked it, because the only other time he ever felt like this was when he was in the kitchen, cooking.
* * *
“Doin’ okay?” Liz asked him later on.
“Yes. I may need to be carried back to my room when we get back, might need a full-body massage,” he murmured, hoping it would make Liz blush.
He loved making her blush. Something about that, in complete odds with the unflappable woman, was so intriguing, and he wanted to explore that as much as possible.
Plus, when she got flustered, he knew he was affecting her, which gave his ego a kick.
“Fat chance, City Boy,” she sassed back, one eyebrow raised, but then laughed, her cheeks pink.
They had stopped by a gate, and Tanner, having dismounted, was opening the lock. He was scanning the field, squinting into the sun.
“Don’t see ’em. Do you, Brady?”
“No. Could be over the rise,” Brady replied, fishing something out of his saddlebag. He uttered a, “Heads up,” and threw a granola bar at Tanner, who caught it without looking, stuffing it back in the pocket with his keys, and then levering the gate open, the hinges squealing.
“In we go,” Tanner said as he led his horse through.
Brady made to throw a granola bar at Jake, but Jake shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”
“I’ll take one,” Liz said, and kicked her horse over to Brady, grabbed the bar, and tore into it. Her cheek full of food like a chipmunk, she muttered something to her horse and filed through the gate behind Brady.
Jake followed Liz through and pulled up beside her as they waited for Tanner to mount back up.
“You three work well together,” Jake remarked, thinking that the camaraderie they had was so easy.
“We’ve worked together a long time,” Liz answered.
“Soon as I arrived, Brett gave me a job for the summer. Kept me out of mischief, I suppose. I followed Tan around on the cattle side until he got tired of me and gave me over to Keith, who used to run the stables. Worked alongside Brady for a few years, he was more interested in the horses as a kid, then later on he picked up a wrench and that was that.”
“Brady was into horses?” Jake asked. “Huh. He’s the mechanic and manages the crops end of things now. What happened?”
“He lost a horse he loved more than anything. It devastated him,” she answered quietly. The sadness in her voice made Jake turn his head to look over at the ever-smiling Brady, not believing anything could get him down.
“Ah,” he replied.
Liz uh-huhed and shrugged. “He stopped riding for a while and fell into fixin’ the machinery.
He was good at that too. Brady is good at anything he picks up, really—he’s ridiculously smart, like Mensa level.
Brett noticed he could do math calculations in his head and could estimate seed and yield like it was breathing, so he put him to work on the crops as well.
He liked it, and things ran well so he stayed put.
Still rides and competes at the local rodeo, but for fun now. ”
Tanner walked past towing Chip behind him, eyeballing the ground, looking at the patches of clipped-down grass, kicking at the round plops of cow manure, his face a mask of concentration.
“What is he doing?” Jake asked.
“Checking the pasture quality. We’ll move the cows if it’s too eaten down. They need fattening, and this is a great way to do it. We’re lucky to have pasture. Most operations use feedlots exclusively, but we have the acreage to feed summer beef without having to maintain so many pens.”
“Is it better?” Jake asked.
“Some think so, the cows exercise more and you have a leaner, more marbled product, less overhead, but it’s labor intensive according to the big outfits, having to move the herd the old-fashioned way.”
“Old fashioned?” He had always assumed cows were in a big field and ranchers herded them. He had so much to learn.
“With horses and punchers, you know? Not through a chute into a big truck.” Liz smiled as she slouched in the saddle, her eyes roaming the horizon in front of them.
“Honestly? The beef is so much better when it hits market, and we get a heftier price per pound on the hoof when we advertise as grass-fed.”
Jake brightened because this was he knew something about.
The food industry had latched onto the niche of organic and free range, and if you served grass-fed beef and dairy products, customers flocked in.
People assumed it was healthier for them, tasted better, had fewer chemicals and hormones, all that bullshit that the media said to stay away from.
“So these are all grass-fed? Costs restaurants an arm and a leg to serve premium ingredients like that,” he remarked. Liz looked at him, tilting her head, and he knew he’d caught her off guard.
“Yeah. Truthfully, not on purpose,” she replied. “It’s cheaper this way for us, don’t have to buy as much haylage and corn. Tan noticed a couple of years ago that people were bidding up lots at auction for beef that was pasture-raised, and he went with it. He calls it his ‘hippie beef.’”
“Smart,” Jake remarked, and a new picture of his brothers formed in his mind.
They were tied to this place not only by their ancestry, but by their passions, and their life-long learning with their feet planted firmly on the ground that gave them their livelihood.
From Brady’s know-how of ranch operations to Tanner’s understanding of trends in the market, they had a history and knowledge of the ranch that was more than he could ever have.
Jake mentally measured his own footprint in the restaurant industry as he sat quietly on Sandy, her head dropped to crop at the grass, her tail swishing the odd bug away.
His career as a chef wasn’t small, but his influence in the restaurant industry felt transient and temporary, easily forgotten in the constant change New York seemed to nurture.
There wasn’t permanence in it like the longevity this ranch held for his brothers, giving them the impetus to make it work no matter what.
He wanted to live up to his West name and ensure that the next generation could sit here on a horse and look out over the land the way he was. The thought hit him like a punch in the gut. Was it his legacy too? Was he overthinking it again? It was a confusing mess.
What was crystal clear was that this was home for his brothers, for Peony, Liz, the crew too. They’d known nothing else. His father had, in the oddest of ways, given him the chance to see and understand it all, and he was finally getting it. Tanner’s anger made sense.
This was as heavy as learning that his dad had looked for him, and Jake added it to the tally of baggage he would have to deal with at some point.
“Shit,” he muttered to himself, and Liz looked at him questioningly.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. Just getting stiff,” he lied, and stretched his back.
Tanner had remounted while they were chatting and had disappeared from view over a small dip in the land.
Fast hoofbeats made Liz stand up in the stirrups, her body tense, a squawk of alarm coming from her.
Tanner and Chip reappeared, galloping up the hill.
His face said it all. Something was wrong.
“What is it?” Brady asked.
“The cattle. They’ve broken through the far side fence. Looks fresh. We have to go before they make the soybean fields across the creek,” Tanner barked, turning his horse and galloping back the way he came. Brady spurred after him immediately.
Liz turned to Jake, her face grim as her horse fidgeted to leave and catch up to them. “You up for this? We can send you back. Gonna be a lot of new thrown at you all at once, Jake. It’s—”
“You can probably use me. Just show me what to do—if nothing else I can put Sandy in there, and she’ll take care of me, right?” Jake interrupted, and hoped Liz would agree. If he wanted to learn, this was the way to do it. Trial by fire, so to speak.
Liz examined him a moment, obviously debating whether he should be there, then nodded curtly.
They turned their horses together, and Jake grabbed for his saddle horn again as they took off at a gallop to follow Tanner and Brady back down the hill.