Chapter Eight
Caine
Two Months Later
“Goddamnit, Pat, get your shit together!” I yell at my brother as he pulls up to the barn an hour late for work… again. It’s six AM, and we all have shit we need to do. And I’ve already been working for the last hour.
Our ranch has a small staff, but each of us has his or her place, and he’s been slacking.
“You really are an ass first thing in the morning.” He slams his car door shut, and scowls at me.
“You’re late, so now you get to muck the stalls.” I point my finger in his face. I’m sick of his laziness.
“Get Max or Jeff or Zeke to do it,” Patrick complains, referring to our stable hands and trainers.
“They are exercising the horses or working with riders,” I say. “And they were on time.” My voice is firm and irritated, as usual.
No one wants to muck the stalls. It’s the worst; it’s disgusting, really. But it has to be done.
When our father ran this ranch, that was our punishment when we were misbehaving or if we were late for work. Why would it change just cause our dad’s retired?
Hugh doesn’t work on the ranch. He’s a local veterinarian. Tiffany is our bookkeeper—well, sort of. She keeps the books for the ranch, but she really is the Vice President of Finance for Montgomery Oil.
The ranch is just our family’s local business, but it’s not our primary source of income, though we do better than most with our diverse riding and training courses.
Tiffany works at our corporate office for the primary company and does our books on the side. She doesn’t work on the ranch itself. She can and does it when needed. She’s the brains of the family and keeps all our financial records in order.
I’m in charge of training the horses and running the ranch itself, hiring, training and firing staff. Patrick acts as a manager of sorts and is also the man who manages the purchasing and selling of horses.
We also have a good-sized horse camp we provide for local kids, especially when school is out for holidays and vacations. Lance runs that side of the house.
When the kids get old enough, and if they are skilled and show promise, I take on the instruction for those that want to specialize in bronc training. But western style riding is all done by Lance, and he enjoys that.
But with all the shit we do, at the end of the day, we run a ranch that has horses, and they need to be taken care of, and part of that includes cleaning their shit.
“Fuck off, Caine! My priorities are my family, and my wife woke up sick again. She’s my number one priority, and I won’t apologize for it,” he yells at me.
“Is Rabecca pregnant?” my dad asks curiously, walking out of the barn.
Patrick frowns. “What do you mean?” he asks, brows drawn, confusion on his face.
My father smiles and walks to my brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. “She was sick again this morning?” Dad asks, emphasizing the word again as he smiles at Patrick.
“Well, yeah,” Patrick says. “What’s that got to do with being pregnant?” he asks, his brow creased as he looks from me to my father.
I just shake my head. I love my brother, but he needs to get his head out of his ass.
“Go help Max after you muck the stalls,” Dad says, shaking his head.
Patrick just shrugs but does as he’s told.
“You alright?” my dad asks me as I saddle up my horse, preparing for a ride.
I’m getting ready to put some of the horses out to pasture for the day. I also plan on checking out the rigs that we have on our land.
Dad’s family invested in this land about fifty years ago but did nothing with it.
When Dad quit bronc riding, he decided he wanted to make this land into a ranch.
But his father, Franklin Caine Montgomery the first, discovered that his land had oil.
We ended up building the ranch around the rigs he built.
And let’s be honest, that’s how my family makes the bulk of our money.
My family is known throughout Texas, and not just because my dad and I were successful bronc riders, which we both were. We are well known because of Montgomery Oil. It’s the second largest oil distribution company in Texas.
The majority of our business is done in the Gulf of Mexico, which has several oil rigs along the coast. So, obviously when my grandfather discovered this land had oil, he built three rigs to subsidize ranching, which by and large, is a dying industry in Texas.
Later on in the day, I have a few new riders that I’m going to begin training for the season. Lance told me they showed promise, and he thought they would make strong bronc riders.
Inside the barn, we have a machine that simulates the different speeds of a bronco.
It’s basically like riding, giving new, inexperienced students the feel of what it is like to ride a bronco.
It’s a great way for those who are just beginning to learn.
The goal is to hold on for at least eight seconds, which may sound like nothing, but when that horse bucks, trust that it’s no mean feat to stay on for even two seconds.
It takes skill, and it’s grueling on the body.
“I’m fine,” I tell my dad, surprised by the question.
“Bullshit,” my dad says forcefully. “You’ve been walking around with a chip on your shoulder for the last few weeks. Yelling at everyone within a five-yard radius.”
I look at my father and blink. I have been feeling off lately, but I didn’t think I was acting any differently than usual.
“You’ve been riding out more. Zeke said he’s been taking on more of the training.”
“I’ve just enjoyed being with the horses lately. Zeke is better with people. Plus, I’m teaching the young class we just added this week. I thought you were supposed to be retired?” I remind him, raising a brow as I tighten the harness around my horse.
“Well, I do still live here, even if you and your brothers run the place.” My father raises an identical brow as mine.
Looking at him, sometimes it’s creepy, like seeing myself in the future. “Why don’t we take a ride out together?”
That’s code for let’s talk.
Fuck. I groan at the realization that he wants to have a real conversation. We never talk, at least not about serious things like feelings.
The day is perfect for taking the horses out to pasture, so I guess today it’s a two-person job.
I wait for my dad to saddle up his horse, and then we ride out together, allowing the other horses to trot around us.
I’m surprised when my dad and I just ride out in companionable silence.
My father has a full head of white hair now, but the man is as strong and fit as ever. He’s seventy-two, a bit weathered from his time outdoors, but for the most part, he’s still handsome.
The ranch is hundreds of acres of land, and we all have our own houses on the property, while he and our mother still live in the main house. We are a family ranch through and through, and while he has retired, he’s not the type to be idle.
I take in our surroundings. While it’s sunny and warm today, the grass is getting greener; the trees are beginning to darken. You can feel the season is changing. The water gleams in the river that runs along the property line. I love my home.
“Are you happy, son?” my dad asks as we dismount from our horses.
I look at him in surprise. This isn’t a typical conversation that we’ve had in the past. My dad and I are close, don’t get me wrong, but we just don’t talk about these kinds of things.
“I think so.” I don’t really know how else to answer the question. So… I frown.
I walk beside my father as we make our way down to the river that flows along our property line.
Franklin Montgomery the second, my dad, is just an inch shy of me.
I’m six four and sometimes when I look at him, I can see his disappointment, and today, something in his eyes hits harder.
It’s like I can see my future… when I’m his age…
and I’m gonna be alone. The thought causes an ache to form in my chest.
“You’re seeing it now, aren’t you?” he asks me, walking beside me along the path.
My brothers and I leveled this trail thirty years ago.
Hugh, Lance and I worked together for three weeks to get the trail perfect for our mother.
We wanted her to have a nice path to walk on without having to worry about tripping.
It’s held up well over the years, now a well-trodden path that she uses every morning.
“Look, son, I understand why you wanted to stay single after you divorced Janine, but it’s been close to fifteen years. I don’t want you to end up alone,” he says to me. “And frankly, I don’t think you do either. I think you’ve been ornery these last few months for that very reason.”
“Last few months?” I ask in disbelief. “I thought you said weeks?”
“I’d say years, but I’m trying to be kind here,” he replies in annoyance, raising a brow at me in challenge.
“I take this ranch seriously. Sometimes I think you coddle Pat,” I argue, trying to divert the conversation away from me.
He nods and looks out over the property.
“That may be true. But I don’t think those things are mutually exclusive.
In fact, they have nothing to do with each other, my boy.
” He sighs and looks at me again. “Look, you do a fine job on the ranch. And you have some great talent you’re training, and come February, I’m sure you’ll get them in line, especially that Weston kid.
But when the sun goes down and you go home…
” he trails off, looking at me. And I see sadness in his eyes.
We leave the horses out to pasture for the day but ride ours back. They’re older and can roam closer to the barn. We return in silence. I don’t know what to say. I know that he’s right in a sense.
My mind drifts to that green-eyed girl I met at Shirley’s, and I kick myself for not getting her number. That missed opportunity keeps me up late at night. I wonder how she’s doing—if she worked things out with her mother.
Once back at my house, I call my buddy, Kyle, and ask if he wants to go out with me tonight. He’s single too. Maybe getting out will do me some good.