by Sarah Monzon
She stepped up to join us.
“Gran’s up at the house making supper, so I hope y’all are hungry. We’re excited you could join us, and hope you enjoy your visit. Now, if the men would like to follow Nate, he’ll show you to the bunkhouse where you’ll be staying. You ladies follow me, and I’ll show you to your accommodations. Dinner’s at six o’clock, and Gran’s whipped up something special, so be sure not to be late.”
Nate had a shuffling of lost pups behind him as he led the way to the bunkhouse, which was really a cabin filled with lodgepole pine furniture and hand-made quilts. Our guests may be searching for an authentic experience, but we wanted them to be comfortable as well.
Scout trailed beside Miss Jocelyn, and I snapped my fingers at him to heel by my side. He looked at me…then completely ignored the command and pressed his speckled fur against the woman’s leg. Traitorous mutt.
“I have to admit”—Miss Jocelyn ran tapered fingers across my dog’s snout—“I’ve never been camping before. Just the idea of it made me freak out a little at first. But the pictures on your website are beautiful. Almost glamorous.”
Miss Tonya snorted. “That’s because the set up here is glamping. Isn’t that right, Mr. Thomas? True camping consists of sleeping bags and a pitched tent.”
I didn’t really care for the woman’s snooty tone, but even vinegar could be sweetened with a little honey. “Malachi is fine, ma’am. And we want all our guests to have a relaxing place to kick off their boots after a day on the range.”
Miss Jocelyn let the condescending tone of her coworker roll off her like water from a duck’s back. We approached the campsite, the bright white canvas we’d special ordered in a circular yurt design billowing gently against the cedar support beams. The wooden deck I’d built over the winter added a level of hominess I hoped our guests would appreciate. By the intake of Miss Jocelyn’s breath, I’d say I succeeded.
She climbed the small risers and stared into the tent, its flaps tied back to reveal two full-sized wrought-iron beds with bright white quilts covering the mattresses. I’d reasoned for darker linens, but both Gran and Miriam had argued for an all-white palette. White didn’t make sense on a ranch full of dust and grime, but watching the rapture overtake Miss Jocelyn’s smooth features, I conceded to their better judgement.
She studied every detail, pure delight in the moment making her seem so light she could fly. “This isn’t comparable to homeless living at all. It’s more like a dream I never thought to imagine.”
What sort of dreams had she imagined?
Not that the desires and wishes of the heart of one of our guests was any of my business.
“You sound as if you’ve never done anything or been anywhere. Really, Jocelyn, if you don’t watch the words that come out of your mouth, you never know what people will think of you.”
Miss Tonya effectively took a pair of shears to the wings of Miss Jocelyn’s imagination. With the wind removed from under the little sparrows wings, she shuddered.
I couldn’t let her fall. Not if I could somehow soften the blow. I moistened my lips, praying something articulate would pass through them that would make her fly again. I slipped my fingers into my front pockets and found a freckle on her left cheek to focus on.
“I think you’re right fine, ma’am.” My voice came out soft, all the authority I’d channeled into interacting with the group so far leaving me faster than a retreating military realizing they couldn’t win the war.
She blinked those large eyes up at me, and heat wrapped around the tips of my ears. I ducked my head, not ashamed for speaking the truth but embarrassed just the same. Cattle prices, horse stock, John Deere versus Kubota tractors—all topics I found more comfortable to speak about than any personal impressions I might have.
Her full lips curved in slow motion, releasing the tightness along my spine and allowing me to raise my head. I found my own lips relaxing in response to her smile.
Thank you she mouthed, and I dipped my chin in acknowledgement.
Turning to go, I patted the outside of my leg, signaling Scout to follow. He whined as he looked forlornly back at Miss Jocelyn, then hung his head and walked slowly to my side. I gave him a comforting pat on his neck.
Miss Jocelyn had cast some kind of spell over my dog. If I wasn’t careful, I could find myself succumbing to her enchantments as well.
5
Jocelyn
My phone vibrated from the small night table beside my bed. I pressed my eyes tighter, pulling back to me not only the covers but the vivid images of angel food cake topped with fresh sliced strawberries, buttery croissants with rich Nutella centers, and the mile long table laden with sugary treats I’d been depriving myself of for the past two weeks in a cleanse I hadn’t wanted to participate in in the first place. Darn Nicole and her insistence on clean eating. Because of her, my subconscious had lost all gluttonous self-control.
Buzz. Buzz.
With a huff, I threw off the warmth of the blanket. If it was Nicole channeling her inner Jillian Michaels, then I swore I’d take seconds of whatever delicious breakfast Gran Thomas had whipped up. Because if her spread this morning was anything like it had been the night before, then my own double Bs would be in danger of enlarging to double Ds by the end of my stay, and I wouldn’t have to worry about trying to impersonate Dolly when I rode Domino.
A choked inhale interrupted Tonya’s even breathing. I grabbed my phone and pressed the device to my middle, muffling the vibration. Tonya quieted, and I tiptoed outside.
Mama’s name lit my screen as I pressed the accept button. “Morning, Mama.” I gingerly picked my way through the dew-covered grass, the cool dampness soaking into my bare feet and causing chill bumps to break out across my skin. I wrapped one arm around my middle and hugged my other arm. SoCal mornings could be deceptively cold, and I was even farther north than home. I found a fallen tree a few yards away from the river and lowered myself to its musty bark, huddling to contain my body heat.
“Good morning, Jo Jo.”
Mama sounded tired. “Did you just get off your shift? How was work?”
“Same as always. People buy stuff online, I fulfill their order.” She stifled a yawn. “Damien called.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. I loved my brother to death, but he seriously needed to stop using Mama as a middleman. I forced cheerfulness into my voice. “Oh, yeah? How is he?”
Mama laughed like I’d told the funniest joke she’d heard all day. “Damien is Damien.”
“But his grades? He’s managed to turn them around?” I’d been the first person in my family to go to college, but I was determined not to be the last. Damien needed a shot, and what kind of sister would I be if I didn’t do all I could to give it to him? Didn’t matter if I was still paying off my own student loans. Damien would have every opportunity to make something of himself.
“The tutor you hired has helped.” Mama paused, and I could picture her face—gratefulness adding a sheen to her eyes even as shame pulled at her shoulders. In her mind, she should be the one financially responsible for her children’s education, but when minimum wage barely covered the rent of a studio apartment in the city, how could she? Every time I sent a check to cover tuition, her pride took a hit. I hated hurting her but didn’t know what else to do.
“He says he needs to buy another textbook. I have fifty dollars I can spare, but you know as well as I that amount would only cover about a quarter of the book. I hate to ask, Jo Jo—”
“You’re not asking, Mama. I’m offering. I’ll deposit money into his account as soon as we hang up.”
“You’re a good girl.” Her voice sounded sad, and my heart strained.
If only she’d let me help out with her own finances. Not that I had a surplus, but I could pinch corners a bit tighter. At least get her into a better neighborhood. But helping with Damien’s school expenses was about all her pride could take, so I backed off.
“Love you, Mama. Get some rest
.”
After I hung up, I signed into my online banking and transferred a couple hundred dollars into Damien’s school account. I needed to call him and reiterate yet again that when he needed money he should call me directly. Involving Mama just made her feel bad. I had to find a way to make him see that.
Tonya was awake by the time I made it back to the…temporary housing. I really couldn’t call it a tent. Tents were flimsy and uncomfortable and a last resort for somewhat of a roof, and this dream-like room was anything but those things.
Tonya tied off a short braid and flipped the end over her shoulder, completely ignoring me. A stalk of straw lay on the ground—trailed in by one of our boots yesterday, no doubt—and I picked it up and threw it at her. “Hay, girl.”
She plucked the golden offender out of her equally golden locks and smirked at me. “Funny.”
I shrugged. “Couldn’t resist.”
“Yes, well.” She adjusted the hem of her shirt. “I guess I’ll see you up at the house for breakfast.”
I sighed at her retreating back. Must be tiresome and lonely keeping that wall up all the time.
I quickly changed and trudged my way to the main house. Sweet smells of maple syrup and cinnamon welcomed me like long-lost friends as I opened the door, my dream the night before coming true. I envisioned a stack of French toast with sticky syrup running like waterfalls down the smothered bread’s sides. So worth a lecture from Nicole if she ever found out I’d cheated on my cleanse.
Voices pulled me toward the dining room, but I bypassed the bass and baritone and entered the kitchen where two out of the three other women on the premises were busily preparing the meal. “Can I help you with anything, Mrs. Thomas? Everything smells so good.”
Gran Thomas wiped her hands on a solid red apron as she turned from mixing a large pot on the stove. Her eyes were kind, flanked by the deepest laugh lines I’d ever seen, attesting to a life of joy and hinting at not a few secrets. “That’s very sweet of you, but my grandchildren plan to put you to work soon enough.”
I turned to Miriam, who was bent over a thick book at the dinette table. “What about you, Miriam? Need any help?”
She looked over at me, cheek resting on a fist. “Know anything about quadratic equations?”
“Does a parabola curve like a horseshoe?”
Her eyelids lowered over glazed eyes.
I laughed. “The answer is yes. Scoot over.” She moved to the next chair, and I took the vacated spot, pulling her textbook toward me. “Homeschool?”
“Yeah. I can usually get all my schoolwork done in time to help my brothers with the ranch or guests, but math has never been my strong suit.”
I leaned closer to her. “I’ll let you in on a little secret: mine neither.”
Her nose scrunched. “But I thought you worked in finance. Isn’t that, like, numbers all day long?”
I shrugged. “Hard work can overcome any obstacle.”
“You sound like Malachi.”
I think you’re right fine, ma’am. Her brother’s soft-spoken words from the evening before came rushing back, along with a tide of warmth. My skin tingled at the remembrance, which was silly. He hadn’t meant anything by the statement. In fact, the way he’d averted his eyes after the words left his lips led me to believe he’d been embarrassed by speaking up at all. Tonya’s deliberate set-down had simply stirred up the good manners Gran Thomas had no doubt instilled in him—a cowboy’s code of chivalry when he thought me a damsel in distress. Nothing more.
I focused on the first equation. Not too hard. Grabbing her paper, I wrote out the problem. “To solve this equation, we first have to determine the coefficients: a = 1, b = 5 and c = 4. Now all you have to do is insert coefficients into the formula”—I jotted it down on her paper a few lines below—“and voila. You can also solve quadratic equations by factoring or solving the square, but I think for this page they’re wanting you to use the formula.”
Miriam squinted at my writing. “I think I get it.”
I pushed the paper and pencil toward her. “You try the next one and I’ll check it.”
A large frame filled the entryway. “Gran, you need help carrying—”
Malachi blinked at seeing me seated next to his sister, surprise freezing his question in his throat.
I groaned inwardly. Maybe I should have stopped at the dining room instead of barging my way into the kitchen. This was their home as well as their business, and common sense should have seen the invisible “employees only” sign flashing above the door frame.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, standing. “I only meant to help, not intrude.”
Gran grunted. “No one said you were intruding, isn’t that right, Malachi?” Her silver brows lifted in unspoken censure.
His stilled expression melted under Gran’s look, one side of his lips pulling into his cheek. “No, ma’am.” He turned his steady gaze to me. “We want our guests to feel at home here, so of course you all are welcome.”
Gran snorted from the stove. “Now, don’t be extending that invitation farther than I intended. I don’t want a bunch of strangers underfoot in my kitchen.” She winked at me. “But you’re welcome anytime, dear.”
My shoulders relaxed. “Thank you, Mrs. Thomas.”
She waved a hand at me. “Now, that won’t do at all. I’m Gran to you, same as these other trouble-makers here.”
“Done.” Miriam slammed her book shut and held her paper out to me.
I quickly glanced over the equations then smiled at her. “Looks like you’ve got the hang of it.”
She gave me a quick hug. “Thanks for your help.”
I squeezed her back. “Anytime.” She ducked under my arm and headed out the back door.
Both Gran and Malachi stared at me when I turned back around. Gran with a peculiar twinkle in her eyes, and Malachi with a look I sometimes bore when I stared at a spreadsheet for hours but couldn’t figure out where the discrepancy lay.
Malachi shook his head and retreated, mumbling something about first his dog then Gran and now Miriam. Whatever that meant.
I helped Gran bring the dishes into the dining room, my coworkers scrambling for seats around the table. After grace and not a little surprise at watching people who survived off coffee and meals delivered by their assistants wolf down thick slices of grilled brioche bread and bowls of oatmeal, we headed outdoors.
Ten-year-old YouTubers, don’t fail me now.
I had no illusions that I’d be a great horsewoman, but I’d settle for not landing in a heap of broken bones on the ground.
A whinny from the corral pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked up. All the horses stood in a line at the fence, saddles on their backs and bits in their mouths. My lungs released a breath. Obstacles one and two already tackled for me.
I walked to Domino and ran a hand over his velvet-soft nose. “Only one of us can freak out at a time, and I’m reserving that position right now, so no losing your head, okay?”
Bill chuckled beside me. “As the rider, you’re the one in control.”
Pretty sure Domino had a good twelve hundred pounds on me, and if he wanted to do something, nothing I could do would stop him. I patted his long neck, pushing up on my toes to whisper into his ear. “Don’t listen to him. I’m fine with you taking the lead if you promise not to hurt me.”
Domino shook his large head. Yes, I’d seen the fly buzzing around his ears. No, I didn’t mind believing the delusion that Domino and I had an understanding and his head shake was in response to me and not a bothersome insect.
Leather creaked as each of the three Thomas siblings mounted their horses in one fluid motion. Tonya and Bill followed next. Even surfer boss Jayden managed to hoist himself into the saddle. Only Sam, Henry, Donald, and I remained on the ground. I gathered Domino’s reins in my hand and turned him toward the center of the corral. That was where the mounting blocks on the Internet videos I’d watched had been located.
Nothing but sand, a few
rocks, and patches of grass.
Now what?
Sam hopped in my peripheral vision, and I turned toward him. He had one foot in the stirrup, but instead of standing still, his horse had decided right then was the perfect time to meander around.
“Where are the brakes on this thing?” Sam called out as he continued to bounce along with one foot held hostage about waist high.
Laughter burned my ears as Nate maneuvered his horse to stand as a roadblock and bent down to retrieve Sam’s loose reins. He gave Sam a few pointers on how to mount, but even so, Sam strained to lift himself into the saddle.
Next committee meeting, we needed to discuss a gym membership as part of our employee package.
I quickly scanned the area. There had to be an easier way than repeating Sam’s graceless assent. My gaze homed in on the fence. The boards were spaced apart like ladder rungs. “Donald. Henry,” I called, tilting my head toward the fence.
Unlike Henry’s horse, who required a little more encouragement to move, Domino followed along behind, and I parallel parked him beside the wooden slats. Once I’d climbed the two lowest beams, I was able to swing my leg across Domino’s black rump and settle my own into the saddle.
I really hoped I could last more than eight seconds before being tossed on my backside.
6
Malachi
“It helps if you open your eyes, Miss Jocelyn,” I said, my words softer than I’d intended. Not that I’d calculated on being harsh, but the calloused edges of my speech had a way of rounding and smoothing when I spoke to this particular lady. I’d never been a Don Juan when it came to women. Not exactly a stammering Porky Pig either, but searching for words when conversing with females was like finding that proverbial needle in a haystack. If only my confidence didn’t go scurrying to the foothills, leaving a hesitation in its wake.