Chapter two
Got hired. Hell yeah—I’m finally gettin’ out of Texas.
Damn tumble weeds, rattlesnakes and a shit ton of dust—I’m sick of it.
I applied for an outfit up north in Montana.
Some place called Silo Springs Ranch. When the cowboy in charge called to tell me I was in, I admit, I squealed like a little girl. After I hung up of course.
There isn’t much I’m gonna miss about Texas, there isn’t a thing left for me there.
No family—none that care about me, anyway.
And I’m bringing my horse, Blaze. She’s a red and white painted palomino who runs like the wind.
Her blonde mane and tail really add to the flame effect she gives off—especially when she’s racing.
There’s no one else on earth I’d rather have as a companion.
Me and her—we don’t do the male species.
My only regret is that she isn’t a dog and couldn’t ride in the cab of my pickup with me.
I reach into my center console and grab a granola bar.
I’m not stopping for anything. We’re driving straight through—except for the few times I know I’ll have to pull over at a truck stop and rest. I hate sleeping.
I wish I could just snap my fingers and be there.
Even though I know I’ll be in a bunkhouse with a bunch of dirty cowboys—the man kind.
I’m a cowboy too, just one who can make babies…
And therein lies my problem. My speech is all prepared for when I get there.
I’ll walk in and those jackasses won’t know what hit ‘em.
I chuckle to myself because damn; I hope those cowboys shit their pants right in front of me when I eventually get to say it all.
I mean I’m sure some of ‘em are nice, maybe even straight arrows. But even a straight one can be guilty by association. The cowboys down in Texas never tried to mess with me. Not since I was eighteen—after I beat three of ‘em in a roping event. I don’t want to think about that though. Those sons of bitches don’t deserve my emotional bandwidth.
Some people might not like me, might say I’m too hard.
But when you’ve been through what I have, you learn how to protect yourself.
So that’s what I’ve done. Every outfit I’ve ridden with has known Dixie Wilder sleeps alone.
No one touches my bed, my body, my horse, my hat, or my heart—period.
They nod when they see me, and they respect the hell out of me too.
Cowboy to cowboy. Now that I’m starting over, I’ve got to be on my toes.
The sun dipped below the mountains about an hour ago.
Damnit. I get sleepy when it gets dark so I’ll pull off the next exit.
I don’t know how far the next town or truck stop is, but I won’t make it there, not with the way I’m feeling.
The side of the road out in the middle of nowhere will have to do.
I don’t need a full night's sleep, just a few hours of shuteye, maybe not even that. I’ll set an alarm on my phone.
I stop my truck and open the door to get out and check on my Blazey girl.
She’s got hay and water back there with her, but I want to make sure she knows, it’s all okay.
My boots crunch through the weeds and gravel as I make my way back to the trailer.
I reach through the metal slats and pet down the side of her neck, then give her nose a nuzzle with mine.
It’s like a kiss. My mama always gave me those, and it made me feel safe—until she wasn’t there to give ‘em to me anymore. It didn’t take long for me to realize the only person who was comin’ for me, was me.
I had to do the saving and the comforting.
Too bad, I was six and shit outta luck. I didn’t know how to comfort myself.
A few years down the road I learned how to build a fence, so I built one around me—put on a pair of spurs, a cowboy hat, grabbed my gun and said, fuck it—and fuck anyone who tried to climb over my fence to get to me.
Marching again over the weeds, back to the cab of my truck, I climb inside and shut the door.
Hitting the lock button, I lift my 9mm out from under the seat, rack one round into the chamber to make it hot, then tuck it under my thigh.
I set the alarm on my phone and check my surroundings before I lean the seat back and close my eyes.
Some creepy asshole tries to sneak up on me, I’ll be ready.
Welcome to Montana.
The sign at the state line had a giant elk on it and the elevation.
I don’t remember how high it said it was, but higher than where I’m from, that’s for damn sure.
My GPS says I’ll be to Silo Springs Ranch in about ten miles.
Hallelujah, Blaze is gonna be ready to head for the hills when I pull her out of that damn trailer.
No one snuck up on me last night. I pulled off somewhere in Colorado.
The views just keep getting prettier and prettier the higher I drive.
Texas has a lot of plains. Up here the mountains don’t stop.
There’s still snow on the peaks of some of them.
I drive steadily down a county road that looks like it’s headed straight out to the middle of nowhere.
I passed a small town a ways back. The sign said, Amber Ridge.
It isn't long before the Australian man voicing my map, talks. “In two hundred feet, turn right, your destination is on the right.”
I always talk back. “Yeah Steve, I can see it.” I named him after Steve Irwin.
He’s the only Australian I know, so it made sense.
At the head of a gravel road there’s a wooden archway with a sign hanging from the top that says, Silo Springs Ranch.
I don’t know how many cowboys run this outfit, but they better watch out because I’m hell on wheels and if they get in my way, I’ll run ‘em the hell over.
I turn slowly, careful not to whip and jack-knife my horse trailer.
I drive under the arch and down the road a short way.
As I get closer, approaching my new home, I can see there’s a cowboy waiting at the iron gate.
He’s got on a denim button-up shirt, and the dirtiest cowboy hat I’ve ever seen.
Hopefully, he’s ready to let me in. I unroll the window and stick my elbow out.
“Hi, I’m Dixie Wilder. You?”
He raises his hand and uses a finger to flick his hat up so I can see his eyes better. “Toby. We spoke on the phone. You sure don’t look like a cowboy. Nothing like what I pictured in my head.”
I scoff and turn my nose to look out my windshield.
“Oh—and what exactly were you picturing? Someone who looks a little more like you? Someone who never brushes their damn hat off because apparently felt ain't as sacred up here in the mountains?” I turn my nose back just in time to watch him have the fuckin’ nerve to smirk before swiping his tongue across his bottom lip.
“I guess you could say I was picturing something a little like that—yeah.”
“Well, crumple that picture up and burn it. I’m a cowboy. I ain’t no man. Open the gate and show me where to park so I can put my horse up.”
I might ride like a man and talk like one too, but I’ve never been able to hide my face from one. I don’t wear a lick of makeup, but somehow they still think I’m pretty. Pretty enough to grab, pretty enough to hurt.
Toby opens the gate and I pull through it. He stretches his arm and points to an open area with a couple other trucks, so I roll over there and park. Cutting the engine, I reach under the seat for my gun and lift my shirt with my other hand so I can holster it on my hip. I go nowhere without it.
By the time I open my door, there’s a handful of cowboys walking up to my horse trailer.
I jump out and race around to get the latch before they do.
Chivalry isn’t something I normally accept.
I can hold my own. “I got her.” I say to the men walking toward me.
One of ‘em jogs a little faster, still attempting to help. When he greets me it doesn’t feel like he’s got ulterior motives. I think this one might be okay.
“Brian.” He introduces himself. “I’ll hold the door while you get your ride.”
I nod back, acknowledging and accepting his help.
As long as no one tries to treat me like a girl, I won’t fight back.
I put a boot up on the edge and step into the trailer.
As I move toward Blaze, she turns her neck and catches my eye.
I reach out and place my palm gently on her neck, brushing it up and down.
“Welcome home, girl. It’s gonna be great. We’ll stick together.”
She’s wearing a halter, so I wrap my fingers around the lead rope, and guide her out.
Brian points toward the barn and tells me to pick whatever empty stall I want, so that’s what I do.
I get Blaze comfortable and make sure she’s alright before heading back out to get my duffle bag and unload the rest of my belongings.
I don’t have much, so it will be easy to situate in the bunkhouse.
Brian’s still standing by my truck as I walk up. He reaches his hand out but I don’t shake hands with strangers. I don’t like the risk of being manhandled. So instead, I bring my hand up to my hip and casually wrap my fingers around the grip of my weapon.
He smirks. “I see. No problem… What's your name?”
“Dixie Wilder. Where do I sleep? I’ll just bring my duffle bag right now. I can come back for the rest.”
Brian throws his head sideways. “Come on.”
I open the back door of my black F-250 and swing my bag over my shoulder. I follow Brian down a small hill and around the side of what I can tell is the main house. It’s white with blue shutters and a big wrap-around porch. It looks nice.
The bunkhouse is white too, but the doors are red and there’s a giant letter S on the side, twice.
Most likely the Silo Springs brand. Both letters intertwine at the bottom, one straight and the other hanging upside down, tails looped together.
I bet it looks nice on the hind end of a cow.
If they have to be branded, it’s not a horrible look.
Brian opens the door and walks through first. We head toward the back of the building and stop by the bed positioned across the back wall.
“This one’ll be yours. No bunk on top, and you’ll have more space than anyone else.
” Wow, he really caught my drift. I like this guy more by the second.
I smile, thank him, and lay my bag down on the mattress.
“We’ll have dinner in about fifteen minutes.
Why don’t you get settled. The boys will come in and we can all sit down and get to know each other.
” He tips his hat and turns, leaving me to unpack.
I don’t trust men, let alone ones I’ve barely met.
But if I was in a trusting mood–-he seems trustable.
I take the hat off my head and lay down on my new bed.
It was a long fuckin’ drive and I’m alone.
So I grip my gun, put my hat on my belly and let my head hit the pillow.